Lila Avilés’ latest film, Totem, unfolds as an evocative family drama focused on the emotional dynamics of a Mexican family gathering for a farewell birthday party for the cancer stricken patriarch, Tonatiuh, affectionately known as Tona. In spite of Tona’s diminished physical presence, confined mostly to his bed, his spirit pervades every corner of the home, influencing all those present.Central to the plot is the innocent yet perceptive gaze of Tona’s young daughter Sol, a beacon of warmth amidst the rambunctious disorder of the family’s preparations for celebration. Sol’s confusion and heart-wrenching queries about her father’s illness forge a powerful emotional connection with viewers. The familial landscape is rich and alive, depicting adults alternating between moments of affection, tension, and spontaneous outbursts, highlighting the importance of human needs and the sometimes loud and in- your-face yet tender nature of human connections.Avilés crafts the narrative with meticulous detail, carving out space for each character to breathe and exist, including the committed nurse Cruz and Tona’s free-spirited partner Lucia. This deep dive into the characters’ world reveals the film’s core — a collective, chaotic, yet tender endeavour to celebrate life amidst impending loss, showcasing emotions ranging from joy to grief, with love binding them all.While the film vividly portrays a day of frantic preparation, candid moments, and the eventual celebration under festoons of Christmas lights, it also raises existential questions explored through Sol’s innocent curiosity, gently pressing viewers to ponder the deeper themes of mortality and the meaning of life.Totem stands as a testament to the raw, unfiltered portrayal of a family’s collective heartbreak and joy, an intricately woven tapestry of life’s simplest yet profound moments, rendered with an empathetic lens that honors the reality of human experience and the undying bonds of family.Nicole Guillemet