Totem is a masterpiece, and a masterpiece of simplicity. It’ll transport you to childhood and all its feelings.
In it we follow Sol, a calm little girl who needs to keep herself busy. As her family bustles around the house preparing for Sol’s father’s birthday celebration, each member is in their own universe.
Will we see him soon? Maybe; but for now, like always, he needs to stay in the back room to rest. Dad just needs to rest, OK?
As Sol follows her boredom and curiosity around the property; as she’s shuffled from room to room by a different nervous wreck this time; as the camera shows her daydreaming face and stays low with her eye-line, we can’t help but feel her feelings. The picture, writing, and acting—from the entire ensemble, truly—are so naturalistic that never once did I think of this as fictional tale. I still don’t.
Sol, sola.
Together, we’ll stress about cake; give up on vacuuming; and gossip instead of preparing. We’ll live, we’ll cry happy and sad, and we’ll feel some deep truths of life.
Totem is beautiful, and a totem in itself.
No words.