Prayers for the Stolen, 2021.
Written and Directed by Tatiana Huezo.
Starring Ana Cristina Ordóñez González, Marya Membreño, Mayra Batalla, Norma Pablo, Eileen Yáñez, Alejandra Camacho, Memo Villegas, Julián Guzmán Girón, Blanca Itzel Pérez, Giselle Barrera Sánchez, Nohelia Moreno Álvarez, José Estrada, and Camila Gaal.
SYNOPSIS:
Life in a town at war is seen through the eyes of three young girls on the path to adolescence.
Writer and director Tatiana Huezo brings her observational skills as a documentarian to her first narrative feature (which has gone on to become Mexico’s official submission for the Oscars), Prayers for the Stolen, a rather bleak story about a town at war constantly under threats from having its young girls snatched by cartels and sold into sex slavery. However, while there are some devastating moments, the film strays away from full-on terror to focus on three girls and their daily routines trying to enjoy life under such horrid conditions that they aren’t fully aware of, all as they grow into adolescence.
Tatiana Huezo (basing this the novel by Jennifer Clement) primarily follows Ana (an excellent newcomer performance from Ana Cristina Ordóñez González capturing the inquisitiveness of the girl), fascinated by nature (the cinematography from Dariela Ludlow photographs several insects and creatures that sometimes play into the story metaphorically, such as the purpose of a scorpion), spending time with the slightly older Margarito (José Estrada) who has a crush on her, building and maintaining a beautiful girlhood with her friends Maria (Blanca Itzel Pérez) and Paula (Camila Gaal), and thriving academically at a time when teachers routinely abandon the village for fear of no guaranteed safety from the ongoing dangers.
Perhaps the scene that best encapsulates what Prayers for the Stolen is about is a brief but colorfully shot game of hide-and-seek between the girls. Although, it would also be a lie to say that it’s the only time these characters play hide-and-seek, as the opening sequence sees Ana’s protective and stressed mother Rita (Mayra Batalla turning in some excellent work despite feeling slightly underwritten) teaches her daughter how to hide inside a ditch whenever trouble is heading to their doors. Sadly, the father has moved to America and seemingly has no interest in sending financial support or speaking to his daughter. There’s also a sense that this is a communitywide problem, especially as dozens of residents try to catch the same signal boost outside presumably to contact other loved ones from abroad that either care or don’t care about the situation back home.
Despite all the dangers surrounding them, Rita (and the film itself) is also wise enough to let these girls be girls. Sure, they are forced into getting boyish haircuts (aside from one friend born with a defective mouth, implying that she wouldn’t have much value when it comes to sex trafficking, which is a gross thing even to type out) but are told it’s because of a lice problem. As the film goes on, tensions naturally begin to rise between Ana and Rita, except the narrative suddenly veers differently. In some ways, it’s for the best, but it also undercuts some definition to Rita as a character.
The three girls are now aged up to roughly 13 and played by different actors despite some incredible makeup work capable of confusing one into thinking they are still the same people and that the filmmakers took a Boyhood approach to the execution. Nevertheless, that is not the case, and they are now equally effectively played by Marya Membreño, Alejandra Camacho, and Giselle Barrera Sánchez. Naturally, they are more aware of their surroundings while still supporting one another and strengthening their already tight friendship. The creative decision to explore a more mature side of these girls (and also Margarito, now played by Julián Guzmán Girón, and still flirtatious with Ana albeit gradually falling into the wrong crowd) adds a cumulative emotional resonance to the darker closing chapter here.
That’s not to say Prayers for the Stolen edits this all together sharply or is consistently compelling, but the narrative hits its major beats well enough. There is both tenderness and sorrow in this quietly moving tale of coming-of-age within disorder, surrounded by suffering.
Flickering Myth Rating – Film: ★ ★ ★ / Movie: ★ ★ ★
Robert Kojder is a member of the Chicago Film Critics Association and the Critics Choice Association. He is also the Flickering Myth Reviews Editor. Check here for new reviews, follow my Twitter or Letterboxd, or email me at MetalGearSolid719@gmail.com
