‘Olmo’ Review: Fernando Eimbcke’s Coming-of-Age Story Strikes a Winning Balance Between Melancholy and Gentle Farce

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Occasionally, particularly when you’re fourteen, everything seems to revolve around attending a party, and the pressure intensifies when obstacles constantly pop up along the way. For the protagonist of the subtle charm Olmo, these obstacles create a day filled with crucial turns and disclosures, moments that might reshape one’s life then and there, but prove even more significant in hindsight.

Since his 2004 debut, “Duck Season“, Fernando Eimbcke has consistently showcased a unique talent in his teenage-focused films – the ability to blend dry, humorous incongruity with the underlying melancholy that often surrounds ordinary life. His latest work maintains this style without resorting to overly sappy emotions. Instead, it emanates the comforting ambiance of a nostalgic tale.

The screenplay by Eimbcke and Vanesa Garnica, which showcases Olmo’s honesty in a captivating manner, primarily focuses on a modest neighborhood of mobile homes situated on the outskirts of town, surrounded by trains and towering mountains. However, for Olmo Lopez (portrayed by Aivan Uttapa), his primary fascination, both real and imagined, lies with his older neighbor Nina (played by Melanie Frometa).

At home, Olmo and his elder sister Ana (Rosa Armendariz) converse in English despite their Mexican parents speaking Spanish. This linguistic situation, common among first-generation Americans, unfolds here seamlessly. Olmo, the more amiable of the two, may occasionally complain, while Ana, in response to parental requests, often exhibits a blunt defiance that’s reminiscent of dragon breath filled with cigarette smoke.

The movie’s pace intensifies with an almost comedic crisis involving a wet bed caused by an accidental spill. However, the humor is tempered by the gravity of the situation since at the heart of this predicament lies Olmo’s father, Nestor (Gustavo Sánchez Parra), who is bedridden due to multiple sclerosis as revealed later in the film. The struggle to care for him forms one of the hardships of life, like a malfunctioning car or unpaid rent, which the characters confront without slipping into despair. Suárez Paz skillfully portrays the determination, elegance, and exhaustion in Olmo’s mother, Cecilia (Andrea Suárez Paz), as she strives to maintain the household’s order.

Due to unexpected circumstances, Olmo’s plan to spend the evening with his friend Miguel (Diego Olmedo) encounters trouble. Cecilia needs to work an additional shift at her job and Ana adamantly refuses to postpone her roller disco outing. Feeling disheartened, Olmo reluctantly goes along with this turn of events. Miguel arrives wearing a fresh pair of Tony Lama boots, and they both settle for a quiet night in. However, an opportunity arises where they can be helpful to Nina, which they eagerly seize.

Neighboring to their home, a woman whom Miguel nicknamed a “goddess” had vowed to bring a stereo to an upcoming party. However, upon learning that her father had sold their own stereo, she was unable to fulfill her promise. In hopes of spending time with Nina and attending the party, Olmo offered the Lopez family’s stereo instead. This stereo, however, turned out to be broken just like their car, leading Nestor to explain electronic components such as transistors, transformers, and cathodes. He also shared heartfelt memories of when he had given it to Cecilia as an anniversary gift. Miguel, with his innocent expression, proved to be a more attentive pupil in these matters compared to Olmo, who appeared uninterested in mechanics. However, this assumption would be proven wrong later on when Olmo fixed his mother’s car, took Miguel and the broken stereo along for the ride, and successfully navigated them towards the party.

This version aims to provide a more straightforward and easier-to-understand explanation of the original text while maintaining its essence and narrative flow.

Olmo and Miguel are well-behaved youngsters, and there’s a warm, amused affection that runs throughout the movie, reminiscent of the late ’70s. This is reflected in Lorus Allen’s subtle production design, Cailey Breneman’s realistic costumes, and the choice of period songs that enhance the narrative, from lesser-known Mexican garage rock to a popular hit by Slade (the music supervisors are Joe Rodríguez and Javier Nuño). However, it is worth noting a mistake in the film: The call letters for the Las Cruces radio station heard in the movie should begin with a K, not a W.

Italian composer Giosuè Greco, known for his work on the recent teenage drama ‘Dìdi‘, provides a touching and uncluttered musical score filled with poignant chords and livelier sections. This fitting accompaniment enhances the movie’s narrative, which follows the back-and-forth journey of a stereo system across town. This small yet significant piece of equipment carries echoes of one generation’s past while playing a role in the dance routines reminiscent of ‘Saturday Night Fever’, performed by Olmo and Miguel.

Giosuè Greco, who worked on the movie ‘Dìdi‘, contributes an elegant score with both melancholic chords and livelier parts to the story. The plot revolves around a stereo moving across town, symbolizing one generation’s memories and acting as a prop for Olmo and Miguel’s dance sequences inspired by ‘Saturday Night Fever’).

The two performers skillfully portray their characters’ youthful allure with a naive charm that feels boyishly innocent. Uttapa, at the heart of the narrative, gracefully navigates the story’s tonal changes, mirroring Olmo’s moments of enlightenment, which range from profound to potentially devastating.

Among the impressive actors in the ensemble, Sánchez Parra delivers a striking performance. Néstor is a character struggling to uphold his self-respect amidst the constant influence of those around him. His simmering irritations frequently burst out due to petty provocations from his mouthy children or his flashy younger brother, Valentin Mexico, who drives a Trans Am.

Carolina Costa’s camera work seamlessly aligns with the director’s intuition, intimately capturing these characters and their surroundings, as well as the constant struggle of light versus dark: the soft turquoise hues of the dawn sky, deserted streets and dimly lit interiors, the liquor-soaked shadows during Olmo and Miguel’s night adventure. For a brief while, they are not amidst a crowd of teenagers, but at a stranger’s funeral. A torrent of feelings spills over, after which they make a quiet exit, one that movies rarely show – untouched yet, like authentic heroes, not unaffected.

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2025-02-17 20:25