To begin the research of Patricio Guzmán with a film such as La Batalla de Chile was quite the sight, as we dove into one of the most gruesome times in Chilean history where the Insurrection of the Bourgeoisie, the Coup d’état and Popular Power in the 1970s are all covered. Learning that Guzmãn was on the field of protests which occurred as almost all of Chile would strike and speak out to their government, was incredibly impactful as it takes a lot of courage to speak out against a government, aiming (literally) at their own civilians. Capturing events such as the workers strike and the final protest in the film where another filmmaker would be shot is quite horrifying yet necessary as it proves to show this dark period. I would further like to watch the full La Batalla de Chile film series as it would bring more clarity to the events of this government coup d’état.

Reflecting back on my final assignment about the Argentine Dirty War which was another gruesome event taking Argentine lives and disappearing their own civilians, it is quite similar to what had occurred in Chile. Having watched this film and other Guzman films such as The Pearl Button helped immensely as it opened my eyes to what a government military is able to achieve.

Arraial do Cabo, although being a short film, was quite interesting to watch in the class looking back as it took a traditional means of looking at the fishing world in Brazil. I wanted to discuss the difference between this film and Glauber Rocha’s narrative Barravento, as both films cover the same topic, but cover completely different grounds in terms of cinematography. With Barravento we get this extreme force of nature as Rocha decides to tackle spiritually, oppression and taking back what is rightfully one’s land. Arraial do Cabo in this sense lacks, as it only truly portrays the visual aspect of these fisherman doing work, not delving into their lives as much. Although Arraial do Cabo captures shots of the fisherman through wide lens of the process itself, characters such as Firmino and Aruã bring such drama to the concept of fishing as it is more of a means to living as they should. Overall however, learning about both films brought great pleasure as I had not known much Brazilian cinema before.

The 2013 film Pelo Malo was quite impactful as it touches on a subject to which is taboo in most Latin American households. Beginning with thoughts of changing one’s hair, Junior decides he wants to be a singer and change multiple means of his personality, acting more feminine as a means to acquire this culture. Being homophobic, the mother Marta begins to notice these patterns, claiming Junior is “sick”, gay and delusional. This film spoke to me as it was always a question in my household that would be dismissed due to a bigoted mindset. Being younger I too would question the state of my identity, would play Polly-Pockets with my sister and even try on my mothers shoes. Although out of curiosity and not so heavy, there would be phrases my family would say after seeing these actions. “Are you gay?” “I’m okay with you being gay I will still love you although it’s not natural.” These phrases would trigger me so often as I saw nothing wrong with those of LGBTQ+ background, and the thought of ever being dismissed or rejected by my family would hurt so.

With time passing on this nature would soon be taught to my family as they would grow out of their homophobic tendencies as they know it is wrong. After my sister coming out and bringing her girlfriend home, I was relieved as I thought my family would be more accepting of this topic, allowing me to explore if I so please. What the film touched on however is the brutal nature of whats taught to lineage so young, and the impact it has on a young person, with the film concluding with the beautiful hair of Junior being chopped off, just for approval from his mother. I pray for those who still feel this sense of being trapped, and hope they become who they are.

Patricio Guzmán’s Nostalgia for the Light was a heartbreaking film depicting the grief and dissatisfaction amongst the survivors of Pinochet’s dictatorship seen through the metaphorical perspective of studying the stars. In the Atacama Desert, the film juxtaposes the astronomers with the women creates a visually striking narrative between looking up at the stars and looking beneath the earth for answers from a past that grows ever distant. Following Chile, Obstinate Memory, this film unpacks the horrors of Pinochet from an even more distant vantage point, making the frequent motif of space pertinent to the feeling of time passing and memory lost. The subjects he interviews who were directly impacted by the dictatorship are now aging and the country losing direct connections to this time. The most striking image of the film was the cut between the women in the desert looking for remains of their loved ones dissolving from a large group in black and white to a group of less than ten. This visual theme of connections to the past lost was also seen in the former prisoner Guzmán interviewed who could still remember the names of former inmates although time wore down the ink and plaster where they first wrote it decades earlier. Nostalgia for the Light echoes the importance of memory from his previous film through the lens of direct sources and how telling their stories while they can still tell it is crucial to linking the past and the present.

Patricio Guzmán’s Chile, Obstinate Memory examines the generational impact of history and trauma while pondering the fragile nature of memory and experience. In his return to Chile following his exile after the coup, Guzmán finds himself in a country still timid to acknowledge the horrors they experienced during the dictatorship of Pinochet. The film’s editing was very impactful to me, particularly the dissolves between images from 1997 and 1973. The translucent images wordlessly create a dialogue between the past and present and creates a striking visual of recollection. We see the middle-aged soldier reflecting on his time in 1997 simultaneously with an image of him as a young man standing by Allende. His subjects range from aging revolutionaries attempting to recollect what they were not allowed to speak of to young students with no memory of such recent history. These varying perspectives offer not a complete narrative, but the possibility for them to create their own. These subjects tell the same events with drastically different experiences and feelings towards them, but all lead to the same question: with all these memories, what do we take with us as we move forward? Rather than seek to completely answer this question, Guzmán instead urges the public towards acknowledgement of the past as a first step to coming to a collective understanding and narrative for their past.

Black God, White Devil was a fascinating exploration of how a society in flux can either resist or succumb to authoritarian control. I saw Manuelo’s journey as a man who lacks the self-actualization to truly be free. Despite his newfound state of being a man on the run, he spends his time in the film trying again and again to replace his oppressor with a new one. From his initial rebellion against his tyrannical boss, Manuelo’s journey begins bleak but hopeful that he may have escaped the oppression that kept him and his family in poverty. But rather than seek freedom, he continuously finds himself bound again in again. Through religion and the Cangaceiros, he is subservient. First in Sebastian and then in Corisco, he is trapped This film bleakly examines the cyclical nature of radicalization on both a personal and national level. I liked the point made in our class discussion about how Rosa is the one who sees things as they are. Although she suffers immensely under the decisions of her husband, she never falls victim to his subservient mentality. Watching this through a feminist lens posits interesting questions on how the feminine experience (or an identity other than the default) may change ones view on economic subjugation since they experience it twofold.

We had the privilege to have a live conversation with Patricio Guzman before watching his film My Imaginary Country. So special to hear from the film maker himself, a man who has reshaped the way I engage with documentary film making and who has enlightened me on Chilien struggles, and the poetry of revolution. This being his latest project feels so fascinating, coming full circle to The Battle of Chile, Chile finds itself in chaos as it uprises against its government. Pinochet is gone, and now it’s something new. The footage here is no doubt inspiring, and it’s invigorating to see Guzman look out to our generation with such hope. You can see in his eyes, you can hear in his voice, he isn’t worried about being old and leaving the world behind. He knows it’s in good hands.

Guzman’s My Imaginary Country highlights the women perspective of revolutionary politics in Chile. The film feels like a direct sequel to the dark events captured in Guzman’s early work, showing how new waves of generations post Pinochet have raised up against tyrannical militant figures who are trying to suppress their rights to protest for a new constitution. What was the most captivating for me was the visuals of hundreds of women chanting the poem together blindfolded and taking back their bodily autonomy and pointing out the challenges of living in a patriarchal society.

The film’s emphasis on women as leaders of the movement as well as participants is among its most striking features. They are presented as pivotal players in the struggle for equality, justice, and political transformation. This emphasis questions conventional narratives that frequently marginalize women in accounts of upheaval and revolution.

During a performance by the feminist ensemble Las Tesis, a group of women in the streets screamed, “The rapist is you.” This particular scenario caught my attention. The ways that state institutions, such as the government and police, fail to protect women and condone violence against them were made clear by this potent moment. In another poignant moment, a young woman described how witnessing her younger brother’s injuries at the hands of the police inspired her to join the protests. Her testimony demonstrated how the rebellion was stoked by both individual and group suffering. The documentary delves into issues of optimism, remembrance, and resistance. It demonstrates how Chileans, particularly women, are taking back their voices and calling for a more equitable society. It also discusses the legacy of the dictatorship and how Chilean politics are still influenced by its scars.

Because it captures a historic event from a personal, intimate perspective, this movie is significant. It demonstrates how common people, particularly women, risk everything to speak up during revolutions rather than relying just on powerful political figures or speeches. The way that protest, art, and remembrance all combined to forge a sense of purpose and solidarity intrigued me the most. Real change frequently starts with the bravery of those whose voices are typically ignored, as My Imaginary Country reminds us.