Princesas

Princesas. 2005. Directed by Fernando León de Aranoa.

We all want. We all need. We share those wants and needs and they go on, end­lessly. Loneliness, like a phone call in a small, pub­lic phone booth. The child, thou­sands of miles away. The mother, in another world, mak­ing a liv­ing as best she can, send­ing money home, hop­ing to bring the child there or go back. Madrid is noth­ing like the Caribbean. Nothing like the Dominican Republic.

Class and race, immi­grants and turf. But mostly turf. New girls on the block, immi­grants, the street, the Calle, sell­ing for less, hus­tling just a lit­tle bit harder. Making life tougher for the estab­lished girls, the ones from Madrid. But there are beau­ti­ful moments and sub­lime times. Dancing, laugh­ing, show­ing off the Eternal Feminine for cars and more cars. For the Street. The poetry of that. The exquis­ite ges­tures look­ing into cars. The slow sad­ness of hard lives fac­ing other hard lives. The sad­ness, the tragedy of exploita­tion. The lone­li­ness of it all. But sud­den friend­ships grow out of dan­ger and pain. Solidarity comes from that, from fac­ing obsta­cles together and get­ting through them. Though they shouldn’t have to so often. They shouldn’t have to face that pain again and again.

No one is fooled, really. Perhaps not even the fam­i­lies. They may just play along. They may just pre­tend to not notice the odd cell phone calls. But within that fam­ily, within that mid­dle class organ­ism, oth­ers play games and fool them­selves and their chil­dren. It’s not just the one who walks the streets. It’s not just Caye.

This is a very good film. It’s mov­ing and hon­est and has a heart. It lets you into another world, which is the best thing movies can do. Transport you to other worlds you might never have known oth­er­wise. At least for a moment or two. It makes you think and feel new things. When art does that, it suc­ceeds in ful­fill­ing much of its mission.

The lead actresses are tremen­dous. Candela Peña plays Caye, the pros­ti­tute with the soul of a philoso­pher, though she does not know it yet. Micaela Nevárez plays Zulema, an ille­gal immi­grant from the Dominican Republic who works the streets to sup­port her son back home. Their friend­ship is like a warm rain after years of drought, giv­ing both women exactly what they need at that moment in time. An echo. A home. A sign that luck will change. That they can do bet­ter and will.

It’s a world that most of us know noth­ing about, but is every­where. Here’s a story about that every­where, set in Madrid, set right under our noses.

 

 

 

 

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