A grieving woman is transported back in time and given the chance to
relive a weekend with her friends.
Review by
Eric Hillis
Directed by: Ana Guevara, Leticia Jorge
Starring: Chiara Hourcade, Victoria Jorge, Eva Dans
"And he was alright, the band was all together. Yes he was alright, the
song went on forever." So sings David Bowie on his tribute to Marc Bolan,
'Lady Stardust'. It's a song that packs an emotional punch when needle
dropped in Ana Guevara and Leticia Jorge's
tender time travel drama Don't You Let Me Go. In their film, prompted by the loss of a loved one, those lines take on
a new meaning: the "band" here is a trio of female friends, but sadly the
song won't go on forever.
At a funeral for her departed friend Elena (Victoria Jorge),
thirtysomething Adela (Chiara Hourcade) feels a sense of disconnect
from the proceedings. As Elena's sister comments about the innocuous
funeral home surroundings, "Nothing here reminds me of my sister." After
the ritual Adela sits in her car and contemplates until her attention is
caught by a bus whose destination seems to spark some memory. Boarding the
bus, she departs in a rural area and heads towards a secluded home, where
she finds she has somehow travelled back in time to a happy weekend she
once spent with Elena and their mutual friend Luci (Eva Dans).
With its theme of grief and a soundtrack peppered with rock
songs, Don't You Let Me Go might be considered a Uruguayan descendant of Lawrence
Kasdan's The Big Chill, but its deeply intimate nature makes it more of a little chill-out.
There's no big drama here, no major expressions of regret. We simply hang
out with these three women and observe as they share a weekend that is
relatively mundane but now imbued with a sense of magic. Bucking the trend
of time travel narrative protagonists, Adela never informs her companions
of her status, presumably because she doesn't want to break the bad news
of Elena's impending departure. The only clue we're given that Elena may
have an uncertain future is a throwaway line about an upcoming
"test."
There are surreal moments that suggest this may all be a dream on the
part of Adela. On a nearby beach shells blink their Dali-esque eyeballs
and an absurdist comic touch sees Adela pour a seemingly never-ending
stream of sand from a shoe. At one point the three protagonists disappear
into a painting of a boat and take a trip out to sea.
This could all be insufferably twee and create the unwelcome feeling of
watching a stranger's holiday footage, but the commitment to mundanity
over melodrama confirms it's a deeply personal venture on the part of the
directing duo. The three actresses have a natural ease with one another
that helps to sell the idea of longtime friends enjoying what they believe
is simply another weekend of fun.
What you take from Don't You Let Me Go will likely depend on your own life experience and how much of a
nostalgist you happen to be. The character shading of these three women is
so spare that it makes them feel like real people, yet at the same time it
also makes it difficult to connect with them beyond their tragedy. I'm not
entirely sure Don't You Let Me Go entirely "worked" for me, but I'm in no doubt its directors got
something from this venture, and in a project of such intimacy, that's
probably what counts.
