User Reviews

The film poignantly illuminates the tragic issue of baby theft, and the indescribable pain endured by the mothers whose babies were stolen. While the film is set in Peru, it underscores a broader problem that has also transpired during the dictatorial regimes of Argentina and Spain. In addition to portraying the harrowing journey of Georgina to recover her stolen baby, the film exposes the pervasive institutional racism in Peru. It showcases a journalist's disillusionment with a corrupt political and judicial system, the suppression of his sexuality to the point of facing death threats, and the 80s Peruvian guerilla warfare waged against the State. The surprising and appreciable inclusion of scenes spoken in Quechua, a language often overlooked, especially in cinema, enhances the film's depth. It brings the audience closer to the lived experiences of the characters, also offering a window into popular traditions. The black-and-white, square-format cinematography lends the film an unmistakably artistic aesthetic.

Melina Leon's feature directorial debut Song Without A Name (Canción Sin Nombre) screens in Directors' Fortnight and is the first film by a female Peruvian director to play in Cannes. In general, films that are focused on indigenous people, not in a Hollywood-like fictional presentation, have always been a bit on the back burner of cinema. The film portrays the indigenous culture of the impoverished Peruvian people in a realistic, informative light and is a moving portrayal of a serious situation encountered in indigenous (and other) communities. This film's existence is very important because it presents a story and a thematic that is rarely arguable in cinema, the stealing of indigenous people's children. In our case, the mafia with the complicity of Peruvian judges stole indigenous women's babies and sold them abroad for profit. Our story is being filmed from the point of view of our main character, Georgina. The film can be subjective and at the same time neutral at the political situation, but never without clever hints. We are aware that this kind of human trafficking continues to this day, but we are failing to acknowledge that this was happening on a massive scale in the minority groups of indigenous people, all across the American continent. This international incident continued for years, but people never were vindicated from this heinous and unjust crime. Newcomer and activist Pamela Mendoza plays Georgina, an Andean woman whose baby is stolen at a fake clinic in the late 1980s. The story takes place against the backdrop of the government's fight against the Shining Path guerrilla group. Director Melina Leon says that the spate of baby thefts happened in 1981, but because she was too young to remember she chose that the story should take place in 1988. She says that there were hundreds of them who were stolen and sold in Europe.

Saw this at the Munich film festival 2019 (in German: Film Fest München). For me is was a big disappointment, given the ingredients. Firstly, the quaint screen format and the unnecessary black&white annoy me, both probably intentional and with a special meaning that goes over a layman's head. Secondly, the story did not move me at all, despite the obvious fact that it was intended to do so, given the heart-breaking circumstances and the inequalities in the battle. Thirdly, the improbabilities hindered me. For instance, how did they suddenly find other women with similar stories??

Fourthly, how are we able to deduce that the parents are illegal immigrants and thus cannot produce an ID when filing a complaint at the police station?? I assume that their origin and status is obvious to everyone in Peru, but we are left guessing. The connection with contemporary immigration issues seems force fed to us, though not really relevant for the plot. (Side note: Maybe it was true for the parents in 1981, so not really forced fed. In case it is true to the original story, I apologise for my accusation.)

Of course, their quest was hopeless from the outset. No happy ending possible. We know that the children in question are already given to their respective adoptive parents, probably abroad or otherwise in a family with deep pockets and not prepared to let their new child go. It also raises an existential question, as spoken out loud in a hallway meeting with one of the lawyers: one can argue that the children in question are much better off now, with a solid future and bound to grow up in a prosperous family. I know it is against human nature to ask such questions, but it is a valid one: what right do the physical parents have when looking at it objectively and coldly??

The director told us before the screening that the actual story ran in 1981, but she translated all of it to 1988, being a pivotal period of Peru's history. It is her prerogative to do so, and it will be applauded by many as a vehicle to bring that era closer to us --we only know it from newspapers--, by showing how people lived there at the time. I personally do not care about this at all.

A bogus extra story line was the contact that Pedro had with an upcoming actor, who later turned out to be sexually interested in him. Petro got a death threat near the finale of the movie, stating they two were pigs and would be killed. Pedro immediately went out to break their would-be relationship with a poor excuse that neither of them really believed (he was accused on the spot to be weak). It would have been more interesting when the letter had been sent by the people that ran the shady business of stealing newborn children to sell them to parents, but nothing in the story pointed to such a connection.

All in all, I normally would have scored a 1 (out of 5) for the audience award, given that I hate format over contents (screen format, black&white, etc, and no compelling story to hold my attention). The transition to 1988 plus the contemporary element of investigative journalism made me hesitate. I eventually scored a 2, a tiny bit better but still not much. It defies the high praises that I read everywhere, but it is not the first time I disagree with the crowd.