SXSW 2024 Review: THE IN BETWEEN, Stop Your Sobbing
Director Robie Flores and producer Alejandro Flores fill their debut feature with wistful yearning and thoughtful observations on their hometown, straddling Texas and Mexico.
Mourn a personal loss by making a film about it. Only: make it something more than that.
The In Between
The documentary enjoyed its world premiere tonight at SXSW 2024. It screens again on March 11 (twice) and March 15.
Recently I watched God Save Texas, an anthology of three documentaries made by filmmakers returning to their hometowns in Texas. One of them, God Saves Texas: La Frontera, goes deep on director Iliana Sosa and her relationship with her hometown, El Paso, known as a sister city to Juarez, Mexico. (It's now streaming on MAX.)
In a similar vein, director Robie Flores returned to her hometown, Eagle Pass, Texas (population 28, 130), which borders Piedras Negras, Mexico. The two communities are much smaller than El Paso/Juarez, but the citizens on each side of the border share many of the same mixed feelings: those born in Mexico adapt some American customs, those born in America adapt some Mexico customs. Everyone seems to be bilingual, and the voiceover narration by Robie Flores and the conversations recorded reflect the bilingual nature of the people, switching from Spanish to English and then back again.
Robie Flores says she was eager to leave the small town of her roots behind, and left promptly at age 18 for university and a big city. Sadly, the unexpected death of beloved brother Marcelo (nicknamed Mars) brings her back home. Once there, she started processing her loss; as a fledgling filmmaker, she naturally got behind her video camera and began recording. She also enlisted her brother Alejandro (called Alex throughout) to serve as producer and fellow camera operator.
While El Paso/Juarez is, judging by God Save Texas: La Frontera, rife with division and beset by crime, Eagle Pass/Piedras Negras is calm and peaceful. The Rio Grande flows between the towns gently; boys can swim in it without fear of being shot. Citizens of both countries cross the border daily; automobiles line up, but there are no conflagrations. Helicopters are seen and heard often, and we see a nearly military presence, but that's not the primary thing on anyone's minds.
Perhaps it's because Flores is, first and foremost, grieving her brother. The border and its incendiary implications recede into the background, always present, but just a part of life. To deal with her grief, Flores records everything that's happening. The people that she's recording know her and feel comfortable around her. There are no staged interviews and no confrontations.
It feels as though life is unfolding around Flores as the film captures everyday life, with a constant acknowledgement of her brother. His in-person absence is mitigated a touch by his own filmmaking instincts. He planned to be a filmmaker himself, and so he gravitated toward a habit of recording anything and everything, just like Robie Flores. She assembles the footage in an artful manner, never rushing, always allowing for meditative pauses between narrative points, even while building toward a wistful conclusion.
We always miss people when they're gone, when it's too late to say the things we always wanted to say. The In Between acknowledges that feeling. Robie Flores empowers that inclination by doing something about it: making an affecting film that is both a loving memorial to her brother and also a finely-tuned reflection on learning from experience.
