Naíma Sentíes in Tótem (Janus Films)

A mother negotiates with a small girl sitting on a potty, alternately chiding and coaxing the child to hurry up. Overcome by dark thoughts, another woman drinks more than she should and ruins a birthday cake. And an exorcist matter-of-factly chases demons from a home, then tries to hide exasperation when her embarrassed client tries to haggle down the fee. Such small vignettes add up to a bigger and sadder total in the Mexican film Tótem by Lila Avilés, a sometimes-chaotic family drama that takes the measure of facing terminal illness little by little, scene by scene.

It takes a while to piece together the relationships among a group of people in a sprawling house as they prepare for a party. Avilés hovers with a mostly unmoving cameras over their moody activities, phone calls, and conversations, some of which make us feel as though we are eavesdropping. It turns out we are in the midst of a family. An educated one by the sound of it, but prone to New Age therapy-speak and even open to a touch of witchcraft. And perhaps no wonder, as the family’s short on cash and on hope: The party is being readied for a beloved brother who we come to know is very sick and faces almost certain death. It’s an occasion to bring loved ones together for a last goodbye.

“Why am I watching these people?” some might wonder restlessly as actions play out at the beginning. “Why should I care about their problems?” But the scenes start to draw attention. Seven-year-old Sol (Naíma Soltes) interacts with snails and a praying mantis. A grandfather dodges a bird that flies alarmingly close. After a tracheotomy, the elderly man is forced to use a cumbersome valve to speak and struggles to express himself in the rough and tumble of the household. We detect signs gathering and wait to see what they mean.

When the stakes become clearer and matter-of-fact exchanges become more freighted and poignant, viewers at first tentatively interested may be fully drawn in. The youngish man bedridden by illness has been shut away in his room. He appears to be in such pain that his emerging for the party feels like an act of great courage. Likewise, those around him are trying to be brave. The very young don’t know what’s going on around them but sense a loss, while the elderly who thought they’d seen it all find themselves unnerved and sorrowful.

Moving on from its seemingly random initial focus, Tótem zeroes in on powerful emotions as friends as well as family offer moving tributes to the man they admire and love. It also draws on the power of the unsaid—a silent scene of an empty room stands out at the end, achingly sad. This is a film with a deceptively sure touch on its surface and deep power in its undertow.