Lupe Under The Sun

Though it will undoubtedly be too minimalist and slow-moving for many tastes, director and screenwriter Rodrigo Reyes’s neorealist drama about an ageing Mexican migrant worker in California effectively explores isolation, loneliness, amid the dry, still air of the sunbaked US borderlands towns.

We are introduced to the titular Lupe, a sixty-something fruit picker of dubious health, in a near-wordless initial 30 minute first act, where we are shown, in meticulous detail, the rhythms of his extraordinary ordinary life. Lupe (Daniel Muratalla) is a man of few words, whether he is out in the orange groves performing backbreaking work that would test a younger man, or slumped in front of the battered television in his ratty, tiny apartment. He is a man used to few comforts: his lunch a simple wrap and fried egg every day, his only possession that gleams with the shine of care seems to be his three-wheeled blue bike.

Though the intentional monotony of the film’s first act will probably test the patience of some viewers, Reyes establishes a sense of the well-worn ritual that Lupe has acclimatised to, as well as showcasing the restraints on his existence due to poverty and his outsider status. Outside of carnal visits to his girlfriend Gloria (Ana Muratalla), and the odd can of energy drink, Lupe appears to have little else, or anyone, to occupy himself. Cycling through the well-heeled, sun-dappled suburbs, it is like he is a ghost.

Eventually, a visit to the doctor reminds him of his mortality, and Lupe finds his thoughts turning back to his family, who, as with many other migrants to America, were left behind when he crossed into the new country. But Reyes’ screenplay adds another dimension of tragedy onto this sacrificial act: Lupe’s wife and children no longer need him (or the money he used to send back) or have any interest in seeing him when he finally contacts them. His voyage over the Border looks like it was an all-encompassing one-way trip.

Employing non-professional actors results in some the dialogue exchanges feeling a little stiff, and Reyes’ arguably reaches too hard for a“poetic” look with some of the cinematography. But the film also conjures a potent atmosphere of “lostness”, providing a thought-provoking take on the migrant experience.