LA BESTIA: FILM REVIEW
In just under eight minutes, Ram Tamez, Marlijin Van Nuenen and Alfredo Gerard Kuttikatt’s animated short La Bestia breaks hearts, as the film centers a Mexican girl and a young smuggler at the heart of a dangerous journey on top of a cargo train. I stumbled upon this project after I saw one of my favorite film critics, Carlos Aguilar, tweet that the film recently won Best Student Film at the 48th Annie Awards, as the thesis project of students at the infamous French school of Gobelins, l’Ecole de l’image.
La Bestia (“The Beast”) refers to the network of freight trains that run the length of Mexico, which more than half a million migrants ride every year to cross the border. However, these trains are not meant for passengers — often referred to as the Death Train, the vehicle doesn’t have seats, windows, or even a roof. The ride is often fatal, as many fall to their death during the long journey or while trying to board the train while in motion.
La Bestia tells the story of a Mexican smuggler and a little girl, who travel on top of La Bestia to get to the United States. The film opens with the smuggler grabbing the girl from her home, as they run to the train and board onto its top immediately before its departure. Gorgeous purple and blue hues paint the sky, giving the journey a momentary and false sense of comfort. The smuggler tells the girl that her family paid him good money to protect her and he only has one request: don’t die. The short film documents their journey, which becomes defined almost entirely by the Mexican smuggler’s leg injury — a nasty, open gash on his leg which only festers as time goes on. The smuggler and the girl form a necessary and indisputable bond, as the two are each other’s sole company and only have one goal: to survive.
Tools of magical realism inform the film, both in the storyline and through the film’s stunning and incredibly dynamic animations. The smuggler’s injury is tied to the motion of the cargo train. When it becomes worse, the train swells and drips an unrecognizable but icky blood red substance. With the passing of time, the smuggler’s injury only becomes worse and the train gets closer and closer to bursting — a tension that drives the film throughout.
For a while, it seems that things might actually be okay. The clear blue sky opens up, and the smuggler and young girl stare in awe at the wonders of the world. A group of women known as “Las Patronas” throw bags of food on top of the cargo, feeding its riders. But that comfort — one that both the viewer and the film’s subjects crave, disappears almost as soon as it comes. Once again, we are reminded of the gushing open wound and the perilous journey ahead. Worry and concern crosses the girl’s face, but the smuggler refuses to give up. There is no other option but to continue.
La Bestia never feels too long-drawn or abstract — it sits perfectly in the middle of a strained tightrope, delicately balancing moments of tender solitude and hope with those of raging fear and despair — effectively highlighting the perilous and heartbreaking stories of those who risk everything they have in hope of a better future.