Reggie Reyes in La Familia (Film Movement)

 A certain kind of roughhousing is natural when children play. The Venezuelan film The Family portrays this perfectly in the first scenes when comradeship among boys is expressed with inoffensive name calling and harsh treatment, either through street games or pranks. The kids are fearless or pretend to be, while gangs live nearby and bullets casing are easy to find on the streets. This is Caracas, one of the most dangerous cities in the world. In this context, Pedro (Reggie Reyes), a 12-year-old boy, spends almost his entire time playing outdoors with other kids. His father, Andrés (Giovanni García), is often working late in one of his many jobs (house painter and waiter). They live in a block near a slum, and the mother is probably dead and barely mentioned.

When Pedro and one of his friends are assaulted by another kid, they defend themselves, but the fight escalates, and the attacker is seriously injured. Andrés knows that this situation would bring misfortune to his son; Pedro will suffer retaliation from the gangsters from the shantytown, where the injured youth is from, and so Andrés orders his son to gather his things, and they leave their apartment immediately to avoid retaliation. Pedro doesn’t understand the father’s decision and confronts his presumed cowardice. The difference between the adult and child is how the two perceive fear.

Venezuela’s official and well-deserved submission for foreign-language Oscar, The Family is a solid and strong debut by director Gustavo Rondón Córdova. It is no secret that Venezuela is a country in crisis, with a repressive and corrupt government that resembles more a dictatorship. For Venezuelans, the economically unstable situation has reduced the quality of life. Unlike most Venezuelan movies centered on crime, Andrés and Pablo represent the common people, whose most valuable victory is daily survival.

Almost everybody is at the edge of the law because they have to look out for themselves and advantage of any situation at the expense of others. (Andrés resells alcohol he steals from the parties he caters.) This is a sad but accurate depiction of life in Venezuela: Andrés looks constantly over his shoulders or stops on a corner while the cops are passing. Rondón Córdova presents the family unit as the most human and steadfast resource against succumbing entirely to moral decay, and as the last space where Andrés and Pedro can find true loyalty, even if their understanding of each other is imperfect.

The film’s greatest virtue is the way it conveys Venezuelans’ hard situation without making a sensational statement. There is no a direct political tone in any scene or dialogue, but small details speak volumes about what is wrong in the country. The movie is also easy to digest thanks to an effective story, and it becomes deeper as it moves along.

As a Venezuelan writer, I can attest it’s difficult to make a movie in Venezuela without selling your soul. Some of the renowned filmmakers of the country have bent the knee to the government at some point, just to obtain financial sponsorship. But hope lies in a new generation. Filmmaker Gustavo Rondón Córdova has set an example with a powerful film about human concerns while avoiding the burden of official censorship. As a result, this is one of the best Venezuelan movies of the last few years, an honest and subtle film that feels close to reality. I hope the rest of the world may appreciate what this rebellious movie says between the lines.