Sol’s grandfather’s house has always been buzzing with activity. The customary chaos is starting to get a bit overwhelming for the seven-year-old girl, whose father is bedridden. To celebrate his talent as a young artist, the family have planned a party. Alongside the bustle of her two aunts, who reflect on the absence of male figures and faded patriarchy, the family’s inner climate slowly comes undone. Little Sol is not yet aware of all this. Something else is stirring in her chest: the realisation that an unspeakable loss is slowly, half-whisperingly seeping into the world of her childhood. 

Films like Lila Avilés’ Totem, with their raw fragility and emotional intensity, are what make festivals into meaningful events for audiences. Since it premiered in the main competition at Berlinale where it received glowing reviews, this film seems to have reached a transformative level of cinema. Continuing the visual style of her debut film The Chambermaid (2019), the Mexican director’s second feature is clear, straightforward and compelling in its storytelling. However, the life-like nature of the camera, the chorus-like dialogue, and the heart of the film—young actress Naíma Sentíes—place the viewer in a new space of inner time. It is worth looking into this space to consider goodbyes as a life ritual and how closely cinema stands alongside our willingness to remember.