Review: Malqueridas – BFMAF 2024

Director Tana Gilbert’s innovative, and powerful (multi-award-winning) documentary Malqueridas proved an unquestionable high point of BFMAF 2024. This BFMAF UK Premiere highlights the plight of mothers in the Chilean prison system. Created by, rather than about its subjects, Malqueridas relies entirely upon stills and video captured on elicit mobile phones. The film is scripted in the first person, with the experiences of over 20 former prisoners woven into rich, hard-hitting, tragic, but surprisingly warm testimonies.

It’s a clever device, at once preserving the participant’s anonymity, whilst basing the project in reality. The intimate participation of ex-convict Karina Sánchez in the film’s creation, script and as narrator, grounds it further still.

Malqueridas begins within a mother and child unit, where new mothers and the heavily pregnant are housed separately from the main prison cohort. The love of parents for their baby emanates from the screen, sparkling, but circumscribed by bars and guards. These days seem halcyon once their children turn 2, and are forced out into the world, whilst their mothers move into the general prison population.

The script effortlessly captures the sense of powerlessness of mothers forced to rely on estranged husbands, or sketchy relatives as their babies’ keepers. Gilbert finds a strong narrative structure in her assembled materials, making it natural for the audience to invest in the factional women, their hopes, fears, and joys.

Because there is happiness in Malqueridas, one born of solidarity and found family within the prison walls. Deprived of contact with their flesh and blood families they adopt each other into mutually supportive tribes. Grooming becomes a bonding ritual, whilst fireworks glimpsed from cell windows are enough to entertain New Year parties.

Of course, these mothers are in prison, and subject to the depredations of guards, and the pitfalls of drugs and despair. There’s immense tension when raids threaten to discover the phones and rob the inmates of their voices, coupled with breathless relief when they aren’t. Love stories spring up only for one lover to lose hope and their grip on sobriety. Even if they resist the lure of drug-induced euphoria, the prison staff still view them all as addicts.

Pervading all is the separation from their children, an inescapable wound to their souls. This isn’t a tale of women who’ve forgotten their children, but of mothers fearing their children will forget them.

Malqueridas doesn’t spend much time identifying the offences which have landed our protagonists in prison. Still, there’s a strong implication of people forced, or tempted, into the lowest rungs of the drug trade to make ends meet. Judging by the distinct lack of prisoner-on-prisoner violence present in the testimonies, one suspects the true dangers to the public are mostly at large, and far wealthier than the inmates.

It is, however, the strong sense of story to Malqueridas which elevates it well above a simple exposé. Gilbert weaves her assembled materials together to create the appearance of a consistent, familiar environment. There’s the red courtyard, sometimes hosting a swimming pool, and other times visiting cats and dogs. There are the cells, the bars, the salon, and the bunks where life takes place. Faces and names take on meaning, making the solidarity between the prison populace meaningful and precious in fact, not just theory.

“There’s immense tension when raids threaten to discover the phones and rob the inmates of their voices…”

Thanks to Sánchez we feel the hopes and despairs of the avatars created to carry these women’s stories. We want them to avoid tragedy whilst expecting it at any moment. The petty pace of incarcerated life creeps in, rhythmic, predictable, but perilous. No doubt some of the film’s awful, and doubtless true catastrophes will stay with those who see it long after the credits toll.

Malqueridas is not a dark film, far from it, but it cannot escape the darkness threatened by an indifferent system, and an inadequate social care network. There are no fairytale endings here, only the resilience of the human spirit in the face of misfortune and a remarkable ability to find life amidst the ruins.

In the making of Malqueridas the production team carefully printed and re-digitised every image sent their way (over 4000 photos, and 2000 videos). This loving, respectful care thrums through the movie. Skilful editing, a strong script, and the ideal narrator transmute this bold, compassionate premise into a superior piece of documentary filmmaking.

Berwick Film & Media Arts Festival (BFMAF) takes place every March. For more information on the Festival, click here.