Isabel Castro, documentary filmmaker, sought to capture the perspective of an immigrant who was both well-known and widely experienced. And there’s a line late in “Mija”That sums up her sensitive and empathetic approach so well that it could be taken out and used as a guideline. “We inherit our families’ dreams, but also their fears.”
The observation is sighed as much as it’s said, by aspiring musician Jacks Haupt. Haupt is one of Castro’s two young protagonists, but her story is depicted as a connective bridge to many others.
Both of Castro’s subjects are first-generation Mexican-Americans who carry the full weight of their undocumented parents’ lives. This includes their hopes and fears, but also their immediate choices and challenges.
The film’s formidable center is Doris Muñoz, who at 25 is already working overtime as a music manager, an activist and the person most responsible for keeping her family afloat. As the only U.S. citizen, she helps support her older brother (who was deported to Mexico several years earlier) while trying to get green cards for her parents, who can’t leave the country to see him.
She’s still stunned at her own financial and professional success which started when she was a manager. “a kid named Omar,”who she met in her San Bernardino neighbourhood. Cuco became Omar’s nickname and soon their backyard parties turned into sold-out arena concerts thanks to his growing fanbase.
Castro’s choice to work so closely with Muñoz, rather than at a traditional documentarian’s distance, does create a valuable and tender familiarity. The director makes nice use of old family videos and develops a strong enough bond that it often feels as if Muñoz is inviting us into her life personally. This interconnected approach can lead to some lapses.
After several scenes depicting Muñoz’s early professional achievements, we learn that she and Cuco have parted ways. Muñoz, who is devastated, prefers to keep the details of their break private. She worked for months with Castro to shape her own voiceover, which means we’re left with a markedly wide hole in the middle of the movie. “I think we just wanted different things, or maybe I’m just not cut out for this industry,”This is her vague explanation. A fuller portrait would have asked more not just from her but would have included Cuco’s viewpoint as well.
However, this unexpected setback leads to the film’s compelling second half, in which Muñoz decides she is, indeed, cut out for the music industry. Haupt is a young singer-songwriter she finds and she brings her to LA.
Again, much of this segment has been shaped by Muñoz and Castro, which gives some scenes a sheen of professional promotion. But the struggles, mentorship, and support between Muñoz and Haupt feel poignantly real. It is still incredibly moving to watch how they work together to achieve their dreams and alleviate the fears of their families.
Castro and editor-cinematographer Ora Dekornfeld do a beautiful job capturing the schism between a first-generation child’s micro desires and macro responsibilities. Haupt is treated to a wonderful segment that includes a meeting with a record producer and dressing up for a fantasy shoot. But, she and we are both brought back to earth by a distressing call home. While she is able to see unimaginable success, her parents are unable to see the same. She must choose the safer route by attending school or working full-time.
The film’s best scenes are, in a way, the flip side to its weaker ones: the closeness between Castro and her subjects lessens their objectivity but strengthens their intimacy. There is a segment towards the end, when Muñoz and her parents share an intensely important, personal and fraught moment, that should reduce even the most hard-hearted viewer to tears.
“We are a continuation of something bigger than ourselves” Muñoz asserts, and proves, over and over. Throughout “Mija,”Castro and she both expand that “something”Include everyone she touches. Audience included.
“Mija”The film opens in U.S. theaters August 5th and will debut on Disney+ later, in 2022.