Tótem (Lila Avilés, 2023) (Patreon)

Lila Avilés' second film is as claustrophobic and enveloping as her debut, The Chambermaid, was standoffishly austere. Someone coming into the theater late would think they've seen something like Tótem before: the members of a large family bouncing off each other and getting under each other's skin as they prepare for a gathering. (It's a template that has produced films as otherwise diverse as Rachel Getting Married, The Anniversary Party, the insufferable Argentinian "comedy" Rolling Family, and pretty much every other Joe Swanberg effort.) 

And indeed, that is the outermost shell of Tótem, as various factions of a single clan assemble to mount a birthday celebration for Tona (Mateo García Elizondo). But in the opening scene, we see our main character, Sol (Naima Senties), in the back seat as her mother drives her to her grandfather's house. Sol is seven years old, and as her mother (Montserrat Marañon) drives under an overpass, Sol is told to make a wish. Following a split second of consideration, she says "I wish that Daddy won't die." 

Tona is indeed dying. He is in late-stage cancer, and is staying in his parents' old house where he is being cared for by Cruz (the great Teresa Sánchez), a nurse who the other family members treat like a maid. (Even her comment that she hasn't been paid in two weeks is pretty much blown off by Tona's sister.) As we watch Sol occupy herself while the family makes preparations for the party, Avilés reveals something quite remarkable. Although Sol is clearly bright, she is not some precocious movie kid with a grasp of reality incommensurate with her age. And yet, the time we spend watching events through her eyes, and seeing how everyone around her behaves, makes it clear. She has a firmer grasp on her father's situation than most of the other members of the family, even if she cannot fully process her emotions.

All Sol wants is to spend time with her father, something is mostly prevented from doing. Cruz is gentle with Sol but explains that Tona isn't feeling well and needs his rest. The cruel irony in all this is that Tona is struggling to get himself ready for a party in his honor, even though it is all he can do to sit up in his bed. He is incontinent, in constant agony, only feels better when he's on morphine, which affects his mood. And as we watch the event, and Tótem itself, take shape, it is painfully evident that this celebration is the family's way of saying goodbye to Tona, something that is about their needs and not his.

Sol is even more of an afterthought than Tona, despite the fact that it is her father who is dying before her eyes. She's one of those mature, well-behaved children that adults feel confident ignoring, because she'll stay out of trouble. But this means she is alone most of the time. She engages with random creepy-crawlies (snails, grasshoppers) that have come in from the grandfather's (Alberto Amador) greenhouse, or hides under a table asking Siri blunt questions like "what happens when you die?" At one point she and her cousin get in trouble for playing with their grandpa's electronic larynx. And later, once the party has started, some uncles tease Sol by flying their drone in her face. "Don't photograph me!" she pleads, and knocks the offending drone right out of the air.

Avilés spends a lot of time showing us Sol's relatives getting drunk, futzing over the icing on a birthday cake, or in the case of Tona's father, just ignoring everyone and pruning his Bonsai trees, only to cut back to Sol, lonely and confused, or Tona, struggling to get dressed and not soil himself. Without rubbing our faces in it, Tótem shows us how unequipped most people are to deal with sickness and death, and how easy it is to believe that one's solipsistic rituals are for others and not for oneself. This is a film about denial, willful distraction, and ultimately our inability to exist in the present with those we love.