Directed by Tana Gilbert, Malqueridas premieres at SIC (Settimana Internazionale della Critica). Her first short documentary Rest, Zulema (2013) had received multiple accolades in international film festivals. It was a psychological portrait of a disadvantaged Chilean woman who meditates on her past and her life as she approaches the end of it. With I’m Still Here (2015), she drew the picture of an octogenarian mother (actually, her grandmother) and her mentally unstable son–depicting a bond that can transcend time and illness. With Lo Que Queda Entre Nosotros (2022) Gilbert once again focused on the intimacy of private life, as she documented a new family that arises with the birth of the first child of a couple.
It can therefore be assumed that family bonds are what interests the documentarist, and Malqueridas is yet another piece of this Chilean mosaique built by Tana Gilbert.
As the final credits say: “The story brings together the experience of different women who lived their motherhood in prison”. The feature film premiering in Venice is in fact the tale of a forgotten community; the ones of mothers serving their sentences in a correction facility in Chile. Through the use of found footage, specifically videos and photos taken from hidden smartphones (their use is prohibited there), the director creates a confused and heartbreaking audiovisual trip. She guides the audience in the mazes of the maternal bond (but not only that), a strength that overcomes the barrier of time and for sure those of space.
According to the law, after two years since their birth in prison, the kids must be given away, to anointed family members – when present – or to foster care. As the plot proves, neither of those are a guarantee to the safety of the child, but it seems rather the contrary.
The memory of them remains vivid in the heart of their imprisoned mothers, and thanks to the technology – the contact can be kept alive even at distance. In fact, Malqueridas is not only built with several videos and pictures taken inside the prison, but even from those received from outside, once the kids are away. The smartphone becomes a window to the outer world, and to love. Through the pixels or a small screen, the women – and the audience – can witness the growth of their children. It’s not completely discernible who belongs to whom, and the focus sometimes can change from a woman to the other. The direction is voluntarily unclear in this regard: despite the presence of a protagonist, the focus is more on the community, therefore the experience of spectatorship can and must remain chaotic. And rather suffocating.
Accompanying in first person voice over that guides the film, are not only family images, but also those of the prison. Sometimes they’re blurry, intermittent, still or in movement, sometimes dark or fuzzy. The sensation that they generate is that of a claustrophobic vision that matches perfectly with the personal story described. Sense of loss, despair, suicide, are alternated with pure love, cheerfulness and solidarity. The latter note of positivity mainly comes not only from the period spent with the children, which includes birthday parties, playing, cuddling and laughing (like in every “normal” house), but also comes from the strength of women which were able to build a community behind the bars. Finding solace with new partners is the only answer to the pain of the time that goes by and feels like a constant loss, and – in the common destiny – sharing is the only possible way of saving oneself. That is why we can still cling to some note of good, despite it being a painful movie, one of those which can make you raging with a sense of injustice.
We can easily comprehend that how in the end, the society is just about those who were born with privilege and those who were born in disadvantage and had very little chance to do better. Luck is terribly selective.
But nonetheless, the mutual support that this movie focuses on – the one between the protagonists of the film that are able to create a new familiar bond – is such an eloquent statement of resistance that in the end, the audience leaves the room overwhelmed by a sense of empowerment.
“Malqueridas” means “those who are unlucky with love”. But the film actually proves that these women are unlucky with life, as unconsidered by a society that too many times forget about them, but the love is never missing between them. It’s the only form of endurance, and the only answer.
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