linkogecko
Joined Jun 2007
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This is the rare documentary where form is given the same importance as the subject. In an unusual choice, talking heads are avoided on behalf of "non-talking bodies" instead. Rather than film the interviewees as they speak, they are filmed standing still in their relevant locations, while the audio of their interviews plays in voice-over. Additionally, the interviewer's questions are not heard at all.
The subjects are also mostly name- and title-less, leaving it to the viewer to piece out who they are based on the context of their words. This results in a documentary that creates a very clear sense of place (how the touristic sites came to be, what is their appeal, their connection to the ever-changing senses of identity in the Balkans, etc.).
The sense of place is achieved at the expense of almost all other information, meaning that the work ends up feeling incomplete. Regardless, it is greatly successful as an almost-experimental way of documenting and, like many experimental works, might be best taken at a purely emotional level, letting yourself react to what is happening in the moment.
The subjects are also mostly name- and title-less, leaving it to the viewer to piece out who they are based on the context of their words. This results in a documentary that creates a very clear sense of place (how the touristic sites came to be, what is their appeal, their connection to the ever-changing senses of identity in the Balkans, etc.).
The sense of place is achieved at the expense of almost all other information, meaning that the work ends up feeling incomplete. Regardless, it is greatly successful as an almost-experimental way of documenting and, like many experimental works, might be best taken at a purely emotional level, letting yourself react to what is happening in the moment.
Fotosintesis Media is a pretty unique studio in the world of animation. While some of the big hitters like the U. S.'s Pixar and Disney can often be considered to put story or merchandise before representation, others in Japan or Europe seem intent on pushing the medium as a visual artform. This Mexican studio on the other hand, tends to prioritize representation and social enterprising. This is clear in their previous movie ("The Angel in the Clock", whose protagonist is a young girl undergoing chemotherapy) as well as "A Costume for Nicolás", where the title character has Down Syndrome.
The term "Down Syndrome" is not mentioned at all in the movie, however, so it falls on cues such as the shape of Nicolás's eyes compared to other characters, or his distinctive speech, to make it clear that he has it. Not addressing this directly could be seen as not conducive to representation, although I think the argument could be made that it is in fact better for it.
In the movie's "real world", Nicolás is not singled out as "special", which mashes well with his approach to the magical elements of the narrative. By not treating the appearance of portals inside chests or humanoid orangutans as anything out of the ordinary, he follows the Latin American tradition of magical realism (other characters do react to this, placing the work more squarely within the category of Fantasy). Nicolás being treated "normally" means that the movie pushes forward the intention for this to be the ideal way of disability being treated in the real world. Erasure of the condition is also avoided during the end credits, where behind-the-scenes footage showcases Nicolás's original voice actor, who also has Down Syndrome.
The other distinctive characteristic of Fotosintesis, now specifically within Mexican animation, is how much importance they give to the craft of animating. In terms of visuals and fluidity, their works might be the single most consistently solid in the country's industry. Though not as imaginative as "The Angel in the Clock", the imagery here is still quite unique, with compelling character designs and beautiful backgrounds.
With such a focus on representation and artistry, narrative is often one of the studio's weaknesses. For all their good intentions, the stories fall short of creating emotional resonance, with the conflicts being resolved conveniently after a journey full of shortcuts. This is often not a problem for the younger ones, however, who are definitely a part of the audiences included in their whole-family approach.
Given the studio's priorities, it makes sense that the focus is on highlighting diversity to all their viewers. In this sense, "A Costume for Nicolás" succeeds while also looking quite impressive for its context, despite any narrative shortcomings.
The term "Down Syndrome" is not mentioned at all in the movie, however, so it falls on cues such as the shape of Nicolás's eyes compared to other characters, or his distinctive speech, to make it clear that he has it. Not addressing this directly could be seen as not conducive to representation, although I think the argument could be made that it is in fact better for it.
In the movie's "real world", Nicolás is not singled out as "special", which mashes well with his approach to the magical elements of the narrative. By not treating the appearance of portals inside chests or humanoid orangutans as anything out of the ordinary, he follows the Latin American tradition of magical realism (other characters do react to this, placing the work more squarely within the category of Fantasy). Nicolás being treated "normally" means that the movie pushes forward the intention for this to be the ideal way of disability being treated in the real world. Erasure of the condition is also avoided during the end credits, where behind-the-scenes footage showcases Nicolás's original voice actor, who also has Down Syndrome.
The other distinctive characteristic of Fotosintesis, now specifically within Mexican animation, is how much importance they give to the craft of animating. In terms of visuals and fluidity, their works might be the single most consistently solid in the country's industry. Though not as imaginative as "The Angel in the Clock", the imagery here is still quite unique, with compelling character designs and beautiful backgrounds.
With such a focus on representation and artistry, narrative is often one of the studio's weaknesses. For all their good intentions, the stories fall short of creating emotional resonance, with the conflicts being resolved conveniently after a journey full of shortcuts. This is often not a problem for the younger ones, however, who are definitely a part of the audiences included in their whole-family approach.
Given the studio's priorities, it makes sense that the focus is on highlighting diversity to all their viewers. In this sense, "A Costume for Nicolás" succeeds while also looking quite impressive for its context, despite any narrative shortcomings.
It's easy to watch this series and only see the food, the calories, how unnecessary it all is. To be fair, that is most of what the series itself shows. While there are small talking head bits with science and humanities specialists explaining the biological and psychological concepts behind these creations, the sociocultural context specific to Mexico is practically not talked about.
Regardless, the context IS there, if you know where to look. Many of these culinary behemoths originated in working class neighborhoods of the country and represent the inventiveness that is often needed to succeed in these communities. Repairing tools and machines with parts that don't belong to them is often seen as resourceful, and so is the unexpected substitution of ingredients in traditional recipes during periods of scarcity (like the infamous canned tomato soup cake).
Then why not celebrate the resourcefulness of adding the snacks to your drink in the same glass (peanuts in Coke, micheladas)? Or putting messy foods inside a dry bread that allows more convenient eating with your hands while on the go?
That being said, in celebrating these overwhelming antojitos, one also celebrates the negatives they represent. With food waste, obesity, malnutrition and their related issues all running rampant, it makes perfect sense to question the celebration of plates that are not realistically going to be eaten in their entirety. And, if they are, they won't be particularly good for their "victims". Considering we live in a time where every act of consumption should probably be viewed as environmental, this questioning is extremely relevant.
The series takes a mostly positive approach to these concoctions, but it does leave lingering questions, with their answers not always being comfortable or clean-cut. In that sense, I think it succeeds as a documentary, where the whole story can't always be told, but the themes remain. Unquestionably, there is room for improvement in its rather superficial treatment of the subject, however.
It should also be pointed out that "Heavenly Bites" are far from a Mexico-only phenomenon. Future seasons could easily show the most outrageous of Scotland's munchie boxes, Australia's halal snack packs, Chile's chorrillanas and so much more (the U. S. already being fairly well-represented with "Man V. Food" and "Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives").
Regardless, the context IS there, if you know where to look. Many of these culinary behemoths originated in working class neighborhoods of the country and represent the inventiveness that is often needed to succeed in these communities. Repairing tools and machines with parts that don't belong to them is often seen as resourceful, and so is the unexpected substitution of ingredients in traditional recipes during periods of scarcity (like the infamous canned tomato soup cake).
Then why not celebrate the resourcefulness of adding the snacks to your drink in the same glass (peanuts in Coke, micheladas)? Or putting messy foods inside a dry bread that allows more convenient eating with your hands while on the go?
That being said, in celebrating these overwhelming antojitos, one also celebrates the negatives they represent. With food waste, obesity, malnutrition and their related issues all running rampant, it makes perfect sense to question the celebration of plates that are not realistically going to be eaten in their entirety. And, if they are, they won't be particularly good for their "victims". Considering we live in a time where every act of consumption should probably be viewed as environmental, this questioning is extremely relevant.
The series takes a mostly positive approach to these concoctions, but it does leave lingering questions, with their answers not always being comfortable or clean-cut. In that sense, I think it succeeds as a documentary, where the whole story can't always be told, but the themes remain. Unquestionably, there is room for improvement in its rather superficial treatment of the subject, however.
It should also be pointed out that "Heavenly Bites" are far from a Mexico-only phenomenon. Future seasons could easily show the most outrageous of Scotland's munchie boxes, Australia's halal snack packs, Chile's chorrillanas and so much more (the U. S. already being fairly well-represented with "Man V. Food" and "Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives").