by Gary M. Kramer, Staff Writer

At the Sundance Film Festival, there were several exciting world premieres from, well, around the world. Here are three highlights from this year’s fest.

Utama (dir. Alejandro Loayza Grisi)

Utama, which means “our home” is a spare, a striking feature debut for Bolivian writer/director Alejandro Loayza Grisi. The film is set in the country’s highlands, and the vast landscapes (albeit quite barren) are spectacular—it is a shame that audiences were unable to see this film on the big screen. The sense of place is so palpable, viewers can feel the sun beating down on the characters. 

An elderly couple, Virginio (José Calcina) and Sisa (Luisa Quispe) eke out a simple life, tending llamas in this desolate region. The area is facing a drought, and yet Virginio is hopeful for rain. However, many of the villagers are leaving for the city. When their grandson Clever (Santos Choque) arrives unexpectedly, with food and to help out, Virginio is suspicious of his intentions. Clever does want his grandparents to move into the city, but he also is concerned about Virginio’s health; the elderly man is breathing heavy and subject to fits of coughing. He is keeping his condition from his wife, in part because he does not want to break her heart.

Utama is a deliberately-paced drama (that’s film fest descriptive copy for slow) but it is gorgeously made, and viewers will sink into the rhythms of Virginio and Sisa’s unhurried life. He takes the llamas out to graze. She treks to the river for water. They have a quiet existence—and that is all they want. As Virginio tells Clever, “The condor dies when he feels useless.” 

Loayza Grisi captures this vanishing way of life—it is being destroyed by climate change, and other factors such as migration to cities—and his tone is wistful. The drama may feel slight, but the film has many remarkable moments, from an ominous reflection in water, to a cultural practice of sacrificing an animal in a ceremony to sow for water. 

The acting by Calcina and Quispe—both non-professionals—is very restrained. Loayza Grisi focuses his camera on their finely-etched faces and their love for each other, and their stubbornness feels real. 

Utama is a heartfelt film that is as moving as it is gorgeous.

Watcher (dir. Chloe Okuno)

The sleek, stylish thriller, Watcher, unfolds in Bucharest, Romania, where Julia (Maika Monroe) is adrift and alone because her husband, Francis (Karl Glusman), is busy at work in his marketing job. She looks out of the big window in their gorgeous, only-in-the-movies apartment and sees a man, Weber (Burn Gorman), staring back at her from the building across the street. Weber unnerves Julia. So, too, does the news that there is a serial killer out cutting the throats of—and even decapitating—young women. 

When Julia goes to the movies one afternoon, she feels Weber’s eyes on her, and, she insists, he follows her to the store after she leaves. A report to the police does not soothe her fears, nor does Francis’ effort to rationalize things. Another afternoon Julia follows Weber—in a sequence that feels right out of Hitchcock—which only leads to more unease for Julia.

Director and cowriter Chloe Okuno may lean into the conventions of the genre, but her efficient film feels more like an homage than a rip-off. Yes, there are red herrings, and tropes ranging from a gun in a literal drawer to a scary moment that is, in fact, a dream. And there are nods to Rear Window, and Night Must Fall, as well as a clip from Charade, that wink at cinephiles. But Okuno is smart with her visuals, and this strategy pulls viewers in. She captures the light and the rain on the window reflecting on Julia’s sad face, to scenes of her isolated in hallways and staircases, mirroring the discomfort she feels in a foreign city. There are terrific shots of her eyes peering out as she spies on Weber, and a scene of her and Weber glancing at each other through an elevator. 

There are layers upon layers of voyeurism at play here, and that is what makes the film is so strong. Julia is watching as much as she is being watched, so seeing her prowling the supermarket aisles hoping to avoid Weber is as intriguing as her slinking through an underground sex club in pursuit of Weber. And when the two neighbors meet in an empty subway car and have a discussion that is polite on the surface, but sinister underneath, Okuno ratchets up the tension.

Watcher may build to a predictable conclusion—the film has few surprises—but it benefits from Maika Monroe’s expressive, internal performance; she makes Julia’s anxiety real. Okuno’s film may be slick and contrived at times, but it is still worthwhile.

La Guerra Civil (dir. Eva Longoria)

La Guerra Civil, the first feature-length documentary directed by Eva Longoria, is a nimble recounting the 1996 “Ultimate Glory” match between boxing legends Julio César Chávez and Oscar De La Hoya. Longoria traces both fighters’ careers, showing how Chávez, who came from a humble background in Mexico, was a man of the people that both Mexicans and Mexican Americans supported because he represented the marginalized and immigrants. In contrast, De La Hoya was from East LA, and never really considered to be Mexican; he fought almost as hard outside the ring to prove he was “Mexican enough.” Longoria addresses the cultural significance of this with commentaries by members of the boxing community, sportswriter Claudia Trejos, as well as actors Mario Lopez, and George Lopez, who believed in Chávez with their hearts and De La Hoya with their wallets. 

La Guerra Civil features terrific clips from interviews and observations about both boxer’s careers to build the excitement for the big match. Chávez describes his first fight as a child—he lost to a girl he thought was a boy—before he began his professional debut as a teen. He was undefeated, having unexpectedly knocked out Meldrick Taylor, and beat Hector Camacho and Greg Haugen before his first loss against Frankie Randall. 

In his backstory, De La Hoya explains he never planned to go into the sport, but after losing a family matchup as a 5-year-old against his cousin, he trained at the gym and as a youth, became a boxing sensation. Moreover, when De La Hoya waved the Mexican and American flags at his Olympic win, it was a political act. But still he was not “Mexican enough” for his father’s generation. But he did draw crowds of women to the sport because of his good looks, and De La Hoya became a spokesman for various products marketed to Mexican and American consumers.

Longoria emphasizes the “Mexican enough” point but repeating it does not make it any stronger. More interesting is how each boxer fared as their fame grew. Chávez “has it all,” but does not enjoy his success, eventually succumbing to drug and alcohol addiction. (De La Hoya has substance abuse issues as well). There is also the mention of a concern that the Mexican cartels, who supported Chávez, might harm De La Hoya if he wins the big match, but that threat, which generates some tension, goes nowhere. 

The pleasure of La Guerre Civil is not just watching these great fighters in their prime, but seeing them now, recounting this experience and its importance. Longoria’s documentary justly celebrates these men and this match. It is hard not to root for both boxers, even if the outcome of the bout is known.