Fausta's aged mother passes away, singing a song that tells of horrific suffering in the not-so-distant past. That suffering has been passed on to her daughter through, according to local folklore, her mother's breast milk. With a potato inserted in her vagina, Fausta hopes to ward off the ugly indignities inflicted on her mother. Fausta's poverty, both material and spiritual, is thrown into sharp relief when she gets work as a housekeeper at the home of a wealthy and celebrated, but arid musician. The musician draws Fausta's song from her. And so, she begins to sing. This is a slow-burn film that offers startling images at time, and is strongest in its representation of the rituals of courtship, marriage and death. There is a rhythm and intensity to these scenes, a beguiling charm, that is disarming. Less successful are the long takes of Fausta (Magaly Solier) staring off into space when in the throes of her existential plight. The film goes after an imagistic rather than narrative experience and only partly succeeds. A dense film, in fact impenetrable at times, it offers strong symbolism, gritty ethnographic authenticity, but ultimately demands patience that it fails to completely reward, Magaly Solier's intensity failing to compensate for the plodding pace.
Review of The Milk of Sorrow
