Some of the most meaningful people are those who enter our lives when we least expect it, or who present themselves as being far less impactful than they eventually will become. This is something that we find Fernando Eimbcke exploring in Flies (Spanish: Moscas), his incredibly moving and deeply compassionate sixth directorial outing (and something of a companion piece to his wonderful Olmo from last year), in which he looks at the fascinating and resonant subject of intergenerational friendships. The film is set in contemporary Mexico City, and revolves around two sets of characters: Olga is a middle-aged woman who spends her days in relative isolation, a result of her quiet disdain for the rest of her community, whereas Tulio is a working-class man struggling to find employment, which is made even more difficult when his wife is diagnosed with an aggressive form of cancer and admitted to hospital, leaving him to care for their son, the precocious and curious Cristian, who is blissfully unaware of what his parents are going through. A chance encounter leads Olga and Tulio to cross paths when the latter discovers that she has a room to rent, and despite her stern, cold-hearted veneer, she allows them to take up residence, although with some very strict rules in place. It doesn’t take awfully long for Olga to fall under Cristian’s adorable spell (which he makes very easy to do, since he’s effortlessly charming), as his joie de vivre brought on by childhood innocence leads the pair to become unexpected friends, in spite of the many differences between them. An eternally compassionate and deeply moving film that blends softhearted drama with idiosyncratic humour in a way that is absolutely bewitching, Flies is a tremendously moving film that knows exactly how to draw the audience’s attention, being a wholeheartedly entertaining affair that is fully in command of its emotions, and more than willing to have the difficult conversations whenever it is necessary, a hallmark of this wonderfully engaging and deeply unforgettable glimpse into the human condition in all of its unconventional beauty.

One of the most effective aspects of Flies is how incredibly simple it is, in both subject and execution. The story evidently started as a story of two unlikely companions: a delightfully quirky young boy who sees nothing but joy in a world filled with despair, and the grouchy older woman who finds her cynical worldview gradually thawing as she grows closer to her new friend, who shows her that there is always value in being optimistic. From this very simple premise, Eimbcke constructs a film that draws heavily from the odd couple scenario that has become a mainstay of many artistic works (almost to the point where it can border on cliché when not handled correctly), while also finding ways to challenge certain aspects of these stories, allowing the film to flourish into something much more complex than it would appear at a glance. The core of Flies is mostly built on the push-and-pull between Olga and Cristian, two characters who are on very different sides of life – one has only just started to gain awareness of the world around him, being presented with some harsh realities but not having the maturity to realise what they all mean, while the other has mostly resigned to leading a solitary life, where it is far easier to just apply a misanthropic perspective to absolutely everything and therefore not have to struggle to fit in. It eventually becomes clear that both protagonists are simply people who do not understand the world in which they are living, which is eventually what draws them together. It’s always a delightful experience to find a film that is this enamoured with the human condition that it spends so much of its time exploring its inner depths, using it as the foundation for a delightful story of friendship, especially one that was not immediate but rather gradual, forming as a close bond between two characters who seem simple on the surface but have undeniable depth, which the film examines carefully and with incredible precision, showing their individual journeys to make sense of their often hostile surroundings and helping each other on their individual journeys.

At the heart of Flies are three central performances that feel so rich and evocative that every other aspect of the film seems to be in service of their work. In particular, Teresita Sánchez as Olga and Bastian Escobar as Cristian are the absolute standouts, but also of the year as a whole, since they’re both able to touch on something so raw and honest, which is the foundation on which the entire story is constructed. Olga is a woman who has essentially chosen to live the life of a curmudgeon, growing weary of everyday pleasantries and allowing herself to grow bitter and jaded as a result of feeling like she is morally superior to all of those around her, something that changes once she is forced to learn immediate compassion when encountering a couple of people who genuinely have reason to complain, but yet they always find room for joy. Sánchez came relatively late to acting, and prior to Flies, she mainly occupied secondary or supporting roles, which were most certainly not nearly strong enough showcases for her innate gifts. She’s such a captivating screen presence, turning an otherwise deeply unlikable character into one of the year’s most lovable eccentrics, a woman who sees the world through a very particular lens at first, but has her perspective changed when she is introduced to someone who redefines her life in a small but significant way. To her credit, none of us would be able to resist the absolute delight that is Escobar’s performance, which immediately steals the film the moment he arrives on screen. We’re so used to expecting (or at least hoping) that child performers are at least capable enough to be convincing at the very least that it can be disorienting to come across one that is not only natural, but talented in a way that we’d expect from someone far older. It’s even more surprising that this is Escobar’s first performance, making him the very definition of a discovery – Olga may be the primary focus for most of the film, but it is Cristian who is the beating heart of Flies, the person who may not kickstart the narrative, but most definitely injects it with the youthful, free-wheeling energy that ultimately comes to define its overall identity. The chemistry between Sánchez and Escobar is undeniable, and they play off each other so well, never at any point coming across as inauthentic, which is quite an achievement for such wildly different actors. Flies is entirely dependent on these performances, and neither of them disappoints, turning in absolutely stunning performances that are wholeheartedly moving and undeniably effective.

It would have been exceptionally easy for Eimbcke to make Flies a hopelessly overwrought, heavy-handed affair, filling it to the brim with dense emotions that put the audience through the wringer solely because he wants to stir a particular sensation. However, there is something much more effective taking place throughout this story, which is built on authenticity more than anything else, and like any good social realist, the director understands that the most meaningful depictions of everyday life are those which find a balance between the natural comedy and tragedy of existence, which occur in tandem. There cannot be joy without sadness, and vice versa – and there has rarely been a film that is more committed to exploring them both than this one, which is about as compassionate and sincere as such a story can be. There’s something so incredibly captivating in how this film explores the lives of these characters, trying to observe their day-to-day routine while also offering insights into their inner worlds, focusing on the emotions and existential quandaries that exist beneath the surface, and inform so much of how they see the world. The most effective way to tell this story is also the simplest: unfurnished, direct and without any embellishment. The film is shot in gorgeous black-and-white (director of photography NAME deserves credit for his stunning compositions, since we haven’t seen urban spaces look this enchanting in quite some time, and his ability to highlight certain aspects that others would have easily overlooked warrants nothing but praise) and features very little music, nearly every use of it being diegetic and therefore contributing to the intentionally bare-boned nature of the film. In choosing a more direct approach, Eimbcke proves that there is absolutely nowhere for this film to hide when it comes to its foundational themes – there’s not any point in trying to be more complex than it needed to be, and while a more glossy, offbeat approach may have been slightly more entertaining, it would come at the expense of the deep emotional honesty, which is far more important to this film’s identity, and the primary reason Flies works so exceptionally well.

While it may not seem to be particularly daring based on a cursory glance, Flies proves to be an exceptionally special film once we are fully immersed in this incredible sensory experience, one that draws out so many complex emotions within us without ever once coming across as needlessly tacky or overwrought, which is a common trait for films that explore intergenerational friendships. It is capable of being sentimental without becoming saccharine, a rare achievement that comes from the director knowing precisely how to capture the intricate nuances of the human condition on screen. A large amount of this comes through Eimbcke’s collaboration with his cast, with the two leads in particular being absolutely remarkable – we rarely see two actors so mismatched in every superficial way having such astonishing chemistry, both of them selling absolutely every moment together, and bringing such a rigorous, heartfelt humanity to a story that can sometimes seem like it is heading towards the heavy-handed, but in every instance where this seems to be the case, the film manages to surprise us, being genuinely very moving without needing to resort to the obvious techniques to court emotions that simply are not there. It’s a wonderfully engaging piece of filmmaking that knows how to draw the audience in, relying on its deep humanity and undeniable sincerity to capture something far more enthralling than anyone may have initially expected. It’s a wonderful film that understands its audience and works closely with us to tell this story, proving to be one of the year’s most unforgettable and deeply moving humanistic odysseys, and just a wonderfully engaging glimpse into the many complex layers of modern life, all filtered through a touching story of friendship, individuality and undeniable empathy.