Built from intuitive hunches (she calls them “hunches”), Mexican writer and director Lila Avilés’ work acts as an invitation to her characters’ most vulnerable states, not to judge them but to share her experience.
“Tótem,” the latest of his quiet miracles (it’s Avilés’ second feature film after 2018’s “La camarera”), unfolds in a single day as a Mexico City family plans a birthday party that also serves as a a sad celebration of life. Sol (Naíma Senties), a perceptive 7-year-old girl, wants to spend more time with her father, who is terminally ill, weak from cancer and suffering in a back room. Instead, she watches the adults cope through various expressions of love, baking an elaborate cake or tending to a bonsai tree. Woven into her deep look at her loss, “Totem” also presents much lightness and luminosity.
“Directing is an exercise in taking care of hearts,” Avilés, 42, tells me in Spanish about his way of working with the ensemble, including the young Senties, who was 8 years old at the time of filming. Although “Tótem,” which opens in theaters Friday, did not receive an Oscar nomination for best international film, its moving power has earned Avilés several famous admirers. Salma Hayek Pinault recently joined the project as executive producer.
“'Totem' manages to cheer you up in tragic circumstances,” Hayek Pinault says via email when asked why she responded to the film. “Lila has the ability to transform the ordinary into the extraordinary, reminding us of the importance of the simple things in life.”
Naíma Sentíes in the film “Tótem”, directed by Lila Avilés.
(Janus Movies)
In addition, the three famous “Tres Amigos” of Mexico have expressed their admiration for Avilés' work. “Birdman” director Alejandro González Iñárritu hosted a Q&A with Avilés in Los Angeles last month. Guillermo del Toro took to social media to praise “Tótem.” And “Roma’s” Alfonso Cuarón hosted a screening of the film at the Telluride Film Festival in September.
While on the phone in Los Angeles, Cuarón describes “Tótem” as a “miniature about everyday life broken by a sense of loss.” He is especially impressed by the spontaneity that Avilés elicits in Sentíes scene after scene. “Only a director who knows perfectly what he wants can achieve that,” says Cuarón. “Lila's greatest tools are the clarity of her vision and the rich inner world of her.”
Sitting in an elegant private club in West Hollywood, Avilés seems out of place. His down-to-earth demeanor radiates a gentle resolve as he talks about filmmaking not as a cerebral practice but rather as a profession that relies on instinct.
“I firmly believe that we, humanity, must listen more carefully to our intuition,” says Avilés, “to let go of control a little and connect with something very deep within us.”
For its creator, “Tótem” evokes the comfort of “a bowl of hot soup,” an affectionate hug (“apapacho,” she calls it). The film is simultaneously complex in its exploration of impending pain and simple in the way it illustrates how family can help us feel less alone.
“The film arose from the deepest love, which is the one I have for my daughter,” says the director. “It was nice to throw away any notions of style and let the film speak to me.”
“Lila's genius lies in the fact that she is not afraid to feel,” says Teresa Sánchez, the Sundance-winning actress who has played supporting roles in both of Avilés's films. “She throws herself into the abyss to direct, write, give herself completely.”
The impulse to focus on the inner world of a child took hold of Avilés when his own daughter lost her father at a young age. He remembers observing her daughter's grieving process, a painful period that fueled the script for “Totem.”
“I always say that childhood is destiny,” says Avilés. “There is something in those early years that marks who we become, that tells us which path to take.” (Her first short film of his, the gently comic “Dèjá Vu” from 2016, actually starred his now-teenage daughter playing an office worker trapped in a child's body.)
Naíma Sentíes in the film “Tótem”.
(Janus Movies)
“In this life that tries to label us and direct us towards the hegemonic, we have to return to those first vocations from when we were little,” says Avilés. “When I was a child I spent a lot of time alone. Luckily he had a lot of imagination and I was able to invent a stupid game with two chopsticks.”
Unlike many of his contemporaries who are causing a sensation in current Mexican cinema, Avilés is self-taught and never went to film school. He initially dedicated himself to acting on stage and screen while also producing plays.
But the desire to direct was bubbling. And already his connection with acting, a craft in which she never felt completely comfortable, was cooling her. On stage during a performance of Janne Teller's opera “Nothing” in 2018, he knew this would be his farewell.
“There is a biological death, but there are also those deaths that change our personality: you are one way and then something happens and something changes inside you,” he says, both about Sol's journey in “Totem” and his own change in vocations.
“Lila has so much faith in what she has felt since she decided to be a filmmaker that she doesn't pay attention to whether there is a safety net or not,” says Sánchez. “I felt very cared for by Lila. She scrutinizes you and that is a gift, because many directors take care of the form but do not take care of the substance.”
For the casting of “Tótem,” Avilés recruited her friend and “Chambermaid” star, Gabriela Cartol, as co-casting director.
“Lila is my compass in life and in fiction,” says Cartol. “When I have doubts about what career path to choose, I go to her. “I know she will speak to me from a very sincere and loving place.”
To find a young woman who could play Sol, the director searched a lot until one of the actors already chosen for the film, Iazua Larios, recommended his niece, Senties. Her confidence sparked a curiosity that the other audition candidates didn't.
“Naí had never acted before and it wasn't like she gave the best performance at first,” Avilés admits. “But I loved learning more about where her heart was and where her mind was.”
Directing the children (Sentíes and Saori Gurza, who plays Sol's preschool cousin) reminded Avilés to remain flexible. “They don't give importance to the things that adults do,” she says. “They have a free spirit and say, 'Let's see if the scene turns out well and if not, we'll repeat it,' and that alone makes things turn out better.”
“Totem” captures the flow of an imperfect family in which what is left unexpressed breeds conflict between people who otherwise love each other deeply. The bittersweet drama unfolds in a chaotic environment that makes it intensely human.
“I want to be thorough to make sure the film feels alive,” says the director. “And as a viewer, I'm a little tired of seeing so many perfect movies.”
Mateo García and Naíma Sentíes in the film “Tótem”.
(Kino Lorber)
The dialogue of “Totem” is peppered with colloquial words and phrases that ring true to Mexican viewers, particularly those in the country's capital. “When I write, there is a moment when I start laughing, when I say: 'This character speaks like this,' and I start inventing little words or ways of speaking,” says the filmmaker. (A slang term for work, “la chambis,” became “The waitress.”)
As entrenched as she is in the details, Avilés is now in the midst of an awards campaign in Los Angeles. It doesn't seem likely that he will throw it.
“Cinema has become my totem,” he says. “When you're filming, everyone (the sound engineer, the actors) is in that space of total presence that is more present than the present. You become very focused on your consciousness.”
But would you change your mind if the powers that be suddenly offered you a superhero franchise?
“That doesn't interest me,” says Avilés, smiling. “In this world there are too many heroines and heroes of flesh and blood who surround us every day of our lives. Those are the kind of heroes I would love to keep telling stories about.”
It is difficult not to have a warm impression of Avilés, who looks for the positive side (“the beautiful,” he said) in every experience. It's as if everything he says or does is an act of gratitude. Yes, it's a bit bohemian. But somehow, like in his movies, everything seems sincere.
