When it comes to determining the importance of making films, one has to sometimes wonder if it is occasionally enough to just record people in their natural habitat, and still find meaning in their everyday lives. Many filmmakers have endeavoured to answer this question, and one of the most recent examples of this theory in practice comes on behalf of Mamen Díaz, whose directorial debut is Violeta Does Not Take the Elevator (Spanish: Violeta no coge el ascensor), a wonderfully witty and enticing comedy that tells the story of a young woman making her way through contemporary Madrid, encountering a range of peculiar characters that weave their way in and out of her life as she gradually develops an understanding for the outside world, a place she has always yearned to be a part of, but never could quite muster up the courage to step out and entirely surrender to the wonderfully unknown nature of life and its many surprises. It doesn’t take a lot of work for this film to establish itself as something special – simple in the way that only the finest and most interesting independent comedies tend to be, and executed with the kind of nuanced wit and effervescent charm that makes it so profoundly entertaining, Violeta Does Not Take the Elevator feels like a major work, an introduction to an exciting new cinematic voice that finds inspiration in the most unexpected places, and seems to perpetually be intent on pushing her craft to a place of genuine and earnest artistic sincerity, where the intersection between real life and the creative process is well-documented in every frame of this film, which contains several unforgettable performances, a script that feels natural to a fault, and a directorial vision that constantly seems to be hinting at deeper meanings lurking just out of sight.

There are two artists in particular that Diaz has cited influences on Violeta Does Not Take the Elevator. The first is Joe Swanberg, who is even credited in the opening scene, where the director notes that her inspiration came from his seminal independent comedy, Hannah Takes the Stairs, which is widely considered one of the most important entries into the mumblecore movement that defined independent cinema over the past two decades, inspiring many burgeoning young filmmakers to produce work that may not always be particularly inventive, but have heart and genuine fondness for its characters. The second, and the one that is of most immense interest, is Éric Rohmer, whose body of work reflects very similar values and artistic curiosities as Diaz, who draws on many of the esteemed French filmmaker’s films in realizing her vision. There’s a simplicity in this general line of cinematic discussion that Diaz is actively engaging with – each moment of this film reflects a keen understanding of the outside world, and much like Rohmer, it’s not so much a case of a film being driven by the particular story as it is about a specific mood, tone and register, who is essentially what gives these films such a distinctly simple but still profoundly moving atmosphere, evoking a sensation of both provocative discourse and unimpeachable warmth the defines the lives of these characters and informs them on many of the most peculiar aspects of reality, which is what Diaz is frequently questioning throughout the film. The spectre of Rohmer’s work lingers heavily throughout this film, and while it may lack the visual depth with which he worked, there is still a very clear sense of pared-down, unfurnished honesty that comes through in the narrative, which is quite profoundly moving on its own terms.

Diaz is consistently drawing inspiration from the outside world throughout this film. Violeta Does Not Take the Elevator is not a film that pays too much attention to the specific mechanics of the story, being a stream-of-consciousness narrative that employs elements of comedy and romance, which are embedded in the conversations conducted between characters as they work towards understanding a world that they don’t really quite grasp, even if their entire lives have been a series of attempts to make sense of an existence that really doesn’t fit into what they considered adult life to be. It’s an abstract concept that is difficult to put into words – Violeta Does Not Take the Elevator is about a time and a place and the people who populate them, while still being a universal story that could resonate with anyone, especially the younger generation who are more likely to see themselves reflected in this film, since many of the struggles and curiosities felt by the protagonists are widespread amongst those closer to the beginning of adulthood. Diaz implicitly understands the small details, presenting us with a vivid portrait of a group of people navigating the world, taking it one step at a time as they try and work through a series of challenges, most of the inspiration coming less from pre-ordained meta-narratives, but rather the idea of chance. Whether it be a chance encounter, or a moment of pure luck, the conversations conducted throughout this film contain a multitude of discussions surrounding the nature of reality, all condensed into a raw, unfiltered dialogue between ordinary characters who don’t have any particularly discerning features outside of their irrepressible humanity that makes them such interesting individuals, and the perfect representatives for Diaz’s continuously provocative, but always very charming, glimpse into the young adult mentality.

The director employs a very interesting method in telling the story, acknowledging the imperfections that come with an independent production, and actively embracing them. I refer to this as the “show your work” approach, since there are a moment in Violeta Does Not Take the Elevator where it is undeniably rough around the edges – the handheld photography can sometimes appear like the work of an amateur, and the acting is often quite stilted (while still being excellent in their own way – Violeta Rodríguez in particular is a diamond in the rough, a raw talent that should be appropriated by the mainstream industry as fast as possible), but rather than trying to conceal these aspects, the director instead chooses to celebrate them, invoking the sensation that implies that Violeta Does Not Take the Elevator is a perpetual work-in-progress. Considering the story centres on a young woman trying to find her own place in the world, working through her own personal issues while experimenting with her environment and the people she encounters through her metaphysical explorations, it seems oddly appropriate that this would be seen as a work that isn’t theoretically complete from conception, but rather uses the space and time afforded by the filmmaking process to meditate on a number of themes, developing them in a way that is authentic and organic, which contributes to the very naturalistic style of the film, and helps it gain a sense of genuine understanding, which could only be done through taking a set of interesting issues, and filtering them through these spirited discussions, which seem far more authentic in how they appear to be the product of improvisation and collaboration, rather than the work of some omniscient creative force that guided the story from the outset.

Violeta Does Not Take the Elevator is a tremendously interesting film that understands that the filmmaking process isn’t one that needs to be accurately plotted and planned from the outset. The methods undertaken to make this film aren’t very clear, but it is quite obvious that it entailed a lot of careful collaboration between the director and writer, and her ensemble, who are all doing tremendous work in putting this film together. It often feels like a natural explosion of life, carefully curated by a director whose interests reside less with the specific cultural nuances, and more with establishing a particular tone, which she explores with vivid honesty and genuine earnestness. It’s difficult to describe a film like Violeta Does Not Take the Elevator, especially when it is essentially just 90 minutes of characters engaging in conversations, taking place in limited locations and not having much dramatic tension or any real structure – yet, it’s so profoundly interesting and moving, using the space and time constructively and creatively, and constantly looking inward while asking some fascinating questions. It’s a small film, but a dynamic one, and Diaz proves that she has quite a wide range of talents, both in how she facilitates these interesting conversations, and how she captures them, using the results in a way that is always riveting, even if it takes a short while to fully reach a point where we understand the director’s methods. It’s delightful and very funny, and has an abundance of heart – and coupled with the very sincere meaning at the core of the film, Violeta Does Not Take the Elevator is a real triumph.