Before going to work, Carlos Spector feeds the gathering of birds that every morning congregates outside his door. If he’s in the mood for a brawl, rather than spreading the feed around, Spector stacks the grain in a neat pile for the birds to fight over. The fat fowl symbolize the gringos, while the smaller poultry, the ones with less power, represent the Mexicans. What’s the opposite of a talking heads documentary? For much of the time, Arteaga keeps her camera in flight, an “eye in the sky” constantly assessing the wreckage. Beauty is seldom uglier than when it’s used to make a sardonic point. Arteaga’s dire chronicle resorts to static closeups only when the deponent’s deportment is such that no image of impoverished surroundings, no matter how artistically lit and penetratingly composed, is sufficient. Nothing can equal the raw emotion found in a human face of a mother who, after losing both her sons, refuses to buckle under the weight of poignancy. The film screens virtually at the Digital Gym Cinema. (2019) — Scott Marks
This movie is not currently in theaters.