The 41st annual edition of the Chicago Latino Film Festival – the longest continuously running event of its kind in the US – is now in the books, having featured an array of narrative, documentary and short films in local theaters and community centers.

While I must admit that I initially found the event’s lineup of 2025 offerings somewhat underwhelming (primarily due to a plethora of films that struck me as thematically redundant) and given my disappointing experience with last year’s festival, I must say I had my doubts going into this year’s edition. However, overall, I must have made my viewing choices count, as I was generally pleased with what I screened, somewhat to my surprise. In all, I managed to catch four feature films and three shorts during the festival’s 11-day run. My congratulations to the event’s programmers and organizers.

So, with that said, here’s my take on what I watched and what I thought.

Enjoy!

FEATURE FILMS

“Damned Old People” (“Viejos Malditos”) (Ecuador/Argentina) (5/5); Letterboxd (4.5/5), TMDB.com (9/10); Web site, Trailer

To most of us, an inconsolable loss is something from which recovery may often be next to impossible. The pain and anguish can be unbearable, especially when they’re piled on top of existing challenges and a legacy of disappointments. The elderly are particularly susceptible to these effects, as is the case with eighty-something widower Elias (Jaime Bonelli), who struggles to find a reason to carry on after the death of his wife. With his health failing, his finances in a freefall, his home in a shambles and his outlook on life being one of perpetual anger, the cantankerous senior reaches his last straw when he’s beset by the constant overnight howling of the neighborhood’s combative cats. Much to his surprise, though, one of the belligerent felines, a stubbornly affectionate tomcat, takes an undeniable liking to Elias, despite his longstanding and widely known contempt for pets of all kinds. However, given the animal’s loving persistence, he crawls his way into Elias’s heart. They become best buddies, providing the old man – who names his adopted new friend Simon – with a renewed outlook on life. Elias resumes taking care of himself, his house and his money matters, not to mention the well-being of his four-legged pal. (Think of this as like a latter-day “Harry and Tonto” (1974).) But, for various reasons, not everyone is agreeable with the changes in the old man’s ways, including his son (Danilo Esteves) and next-door neighbor (Poén Alarcón), circumstances fraught with consequences that can bring out the worst in those “damned old people.” This impressive debut feature from writer-director Xavier Chávez is a flat-out winner across the board, one that skillfully combines moving drama, ample heart tugs, dark comedy and macabre, chilling suspense with a seamlessly blended concoction of twists and turns sure to send one on a rollercoaster ride of emotions right up to the final shot. The earnest, gripping, heartfelt performance of Bonelli in his final film role will touch viewers in many ways, likely prompting frequent grabs for the hanky (so keep it handy). And then there’s dear Simon, who’s sure to work his magic on audiences as easily as he does with Elias. Admittedly, the opening act drags slightly in spots, but that’s more than made up for by what follows, a thoroughly engaging film that otherwise succeeds in virtually every way imaginable.

“Quadrilateral” (“Cuadrilátero”) (Peru) (4/5); Letterboxd (4/5), Imdb.com (8/10), TMDB.com (8/10); Web site, Trailer

Minimalism is a filmmaking style that most moviegoers either love or hate. Admittedly, it’s not one of my favorites, as I feel that it’s often somewhat (excuse the pun) “lacking.” Occasionally, though, I get pleasantly surprised, as is very much the case with writer-director Daniel Rodríguez Risco’s latest feature offering. This suspenseful minimalist domestic thriller tells the tale of an upper middle class family whose matriarch, Adriana (Lizet Chavez), is inexplicably obsessed with everything in her life being based on multiples of four (yes, you read that right). Her family unit, for example, consists of Adriana, her husband, Alfredo (Gonzalo Molina), and her two children, Lucía (Valentina Saba) and Felipe (Fausto Molina), all of whom live tidy, well-ordered lives in a home whose décor sports an undeniable preponderance of squares and rectangles. However, Adriana’s comfort level is decidedly upset when she gives birth to a third child, Tomás (Amil Mikati), because coping with something in her existence in a multiple of five is simply beyond what she can’t handle. As a consequence, her youngest is intentionally marginalized, excluded from family activities and even meals, forced to live inside a cramped armoire. But Tomás eventually grows tired of the ostracism and rebels against his relatives, who are subsequently quietly shunned in the same way he once was, a practice allowed to continue as long as the prototypical multiple of four is maintained. This, in turn, sets off a firestorm of retribution amongst the family members – including nasty physical violence toward one another – to effect exclusion aimed at maintaining the prevailing quadruple-based balance. However, this behavior soon takes a toll on the family, so all concerned willingly agree to take turns purposely disappearing from view from the others, voluntarily locking themselves out of sight in an oversized storage trunk until their turn is up. This arrangement isn’t much better, though, as these shifts of “nonexistence” begin seriously disrupting their lives outside the home. So how will this bizarre and puzzling approach to life play out? That’s what remains to be seen in a story that continually evolves, keeping viewers guessing about what’s coming next. This strange, creepy little narrative may prompt some audience members to wonder about the point of all this, and the director never supplies any definitive answers, skillfully keeping matters intentionally ambiguous. Nonetheless, the picture can certainly be interpreted in multiple ways with multiple messages, including the perils of limitation and excessive close-mindedness, the crippling effects of OCD when carried too far, the devastating pain of child neglect, and the metaphorical social and economic impact of inequality and willful segregation (especially the suffering of the have-nots in the shadow of the abundance of the haves), among other possibilities. The minimalist approach used in telling this story works quite effectively, particularly in the film’s production design, cinematography and scene settings, all of which are meticulously set up and executed. These elements are further enhanced by the purposely sparse dialogue, moody atmospheric score, deft film editing and fine performances of the cast, many of which recall the portrayals of characters from director Wes Anderson’s work. Admittedly, the pacing could stand to be stepped up somewhat in the first 30 minutes, but, once the picture finds its legs, it’s off to the races. Moreover, for all its clever misdirections, the conclusion is a tad on the predictable side as well, but these minor shortcomings aren’t enough to significantly detract from the overall quality of this quirky and understated production. “Quadrilateral” may be somewhat challenging to find outside of the Latino film festival circuit at the moment, but here’s hoping it at least earns a streaming release at some point, especially for cinephiles who truly believe that “less is more” when it comes to compelling filmmaking.

“23 Hours” (“23 Horas”) (Puerto Rico) (3/5); Letterboxd (3/5), Imdb.com (6/10), TMDB.com (6/10); Web site, Trailer

Movies about alternate realities and the multiverse have become increasingly common in recent years, as seen in films like “Everything Everywhere All at Once” (2022) and “Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness” (2022). And now the latest addition in this genre comes to us from Puerto Rico from writer-director Bruno Irizarry, a sci-fi comedy about a road construction worker, Manolo (Roy Sánchez-Vahamondes), who stumbles upon a fragment of a sacred Taíno medallion with magical powers lost centuries earlier in a remote location on the island, home of a mystical transcendental portal. In the process, he’s whisked away to an alternate version of reality, where he finds life very different from what he’s typically known. Fortunately, he finds much-needed help when he encounters a reality control field agent, Lorena (Jeirmarie Osorio), a newly assigned operative charged with reconciling discrepancies and anomalous conditions in various lines of probable existence (in this case, the stranger’s presence in a version of reality where he doesn’t belong). Together, this unlikely duo must work together to get him back to his indigenous existence before it’s too late, a challenge given that they only have 23 hours to accomplish this task. Nevertheless, even though Manolo is sorely out of his element, his deep knowledge as a sci-fi trivia geek makes him eminently qualified to work with his cohort to sort out his situation. And, simultaneously, this eye-opening and enlightening experience affords him valuable opportunities to learn important insights about his true self and the inherent nature of existence, including manifesting an idealized version of his island home. However, while the film spins a generally amusing and engaging yarn, its overall execution is somewhat uneven. Many elements, such as the picture’s decidedly quirky humor, work quite well, but, at times, it can spill over into overblown slapstickish silliness, an unfortunate tendency that undercuts the inspired wit used to carry much of the story. Moreover, various aspects of the narrative seem wholly extraneous, while others are left only partially (or, in some cases, entirely) unexplained, weakening the production’s credibility in imparting some genuinely useful theoretical knowledge about the nature of the multiverse. The result is a project that, while commendable, still feels like it should have gone through an additional round or two of script revisions, along with some refinement in the film editing. That aside, though, diehard sci-fi fans are sure to appreciate the picture’s many nods to iconic movie and TV offerings, especially those mentioned above, as well as the “The Matrix,” “Star Trek” and “Back to the Future” franchises, as well as its inventive special effects. Enjoy this one for what it’s worth, despite its room for improvement.

“The Business Women’s Club” (“O Clube das Mulheres de Negócios”) (Brazil) (2/5); Letterboxd (1.5/5), Imdb.com (3/10), TMDB.com (3/10); Web site

When a film tries to cover too much territory, it’s often doomed to failure. And such is the case with writer-director Anna Muylaert’s latest feature offering, a picture with an intriguing premise that ultimately doesn’t know where it’s trying to go or what it’s trying to say. This wildly meandering, supremely unfocused (alleged) dark comedy tells the tale of an exclusive São Paulo country club run by women that has fallen on hard times. To prop up the facility’s reputation, the club’s president (Cristina Pereira) arranges to have what she believes to be a puff piece written about it by a neophyte journalist (Rafael Vitti) (who just happens to be her grandson), accompanied by the images of a renowned photographer (Luis Miranda). On the day of the interviews for the article, the organization’s board members assemble at the club, where viewers soon learn that virtually all of them are polished but greedy, unsavory, unprincipled individuals who try to do whatever it takes to protect their reputations – and to stay out of jail. But, in the midst of all this intrigue and subterfuge, all hell breaks loose when three of the president’s pet jaguars escape from their confines at the club and begin running rampant throughout the property. This is where the film falls apart, turning silly, directionless, inconsistent and gratuitous as everyone scrambles to save their own hides from creatures depicted with some of the worst CGI effects I’ve seen since the overhyped Bollywood spectacle “RRR” (2022). What’s more, unexplained (and ultimately unresolved) story threads emerge from this narrative chaos. In many respects, the film struggles to adopt a metaphorically satirical approach in what amounts to a less-than-successful attempt at making statements about Brazilian politics, government, business and society, along with scathing though obvious attacks on its hypocritical religious practices and inept environmental policies. And then there are this offering’s strangely handled gender aspects. This is most notable in its ubiquitous inclusion of inexplicably androgynous, weak-willed males and women who have made misogyny an artform, elements that send questionably disempowering (some might even say woefully inappropriate) messages to viewers, despite the comeuppance experienced by those associated with such deplorable behavior. From this, it’s thus easy to see how this is an unduly overstuffed production that comes across as more muddle than riddle and undermines what could have been an engaging premise if better handled. Put simply, this one is a cinematic mess that’s easily passed over.

SHORTS

“Paris 70” (Spain) (5/5); Letterboxd (4.5/5), Imdb.com (9/10), TMDB.com (9/10); Web site, Trailer

I’m generally not a fan of shorts, but this offering from director Dani Feixas Roka is excellent on all fronts. The film tells the touching, fact-inspired story of a middle-aged musician (Alain Hernández) caring for his widowed mother (Luisa Gavasa), who is suffering the progressive effects of Alzheimer’s Disease. The filmmaker’s handling of this subject is deftly managed and heartwarming, despite the challenging circumstances involved. Superb performances, a taut script and an emotive background score combine to make for one of the better releases that I’ve seen in the dramatic short genre in quite some time. In fact, if I were to have any criticism, it would be that I would have liked to see the narrative expanded and further developed, especially given that what it currently does is handled so effectively. “Paris 70” may not be the easiest film to find, primarily playing at festivals, but it’s well worth the time if you have an opportunity to catch it.

“Arranca” (Puerto Rico/USA) (4/5); Letterboxd (4/5), TMDB.com (8/10); Web site, Trailer

Coping with the conditions of aging and loss is a theme with which we and our families must all eventually contend. Director Liliana M. Molina’s debut production, based on her own family circumstances, follows the challenges of Laura (Cristina Soler), the long-suffering adopted daughter of Carmen (Johanna Rosaly), her elderly mother, who’s in the early stages of dementia. Laura diligently endeavors to help her ailing mom, especially in her often-volatile dealings with her kindly caretaker, Norma (Magali Carrasquillo), the latest in a string of providers who have found Carmen to be too much to handle. In particular, Carmen routinely accuses Norma of various wrongdoings, such as theft of her belongings, allegations that Laura generally attributes to her mother’s failing faculties (and that, thankfully, Norma generally brushes off without reservation). But is Carmen’s mental decline truly everything it appears to be? As this delicious little film shows, with age comes wisdom, and that’s something that may not vanish as readily as everyone might think.

“Sertão 2138” (Brazil) (3/5); Letterboxd (3/5), TMBD.com (6/10); Web site

Set in 2138, writer-director Deuilton B. Júnior’s story about life in a dystopian version of Brazil’s arid sertão region follows a scientist (Clau Barros) conducting some last-minute research in advance of her relocation to the safety of an orbiting space station she helped design. But, after several cryptic encounters with a gifted young girl (Camilly Vitoria) and her ailing grandfather (Asaías Rodrigues), events take unexpected (and largely unexplained) turns. Nevertheless, as intriguing as the premise behind this offering may be, like many film shorts, it, too, feels incomplete, a project that probably would have worked better as a longer piece. Indeed, sometimes not enough is truly not enough.

Copyright © 2025, by Brent Marchant. All rights reserved.