Fascinating because these fantastical strains were in the stories my grandmother used to tell me, visions she had as a child, as a young widow, and an old woman battling infirmities from age.
“I was raised on stories where fantastical things cohabitated with everyday life. For me this has nothing to do with the “magical realism” often discussed in Latin American literature and culture. I don’t agree with this idea that there exists some sort of layer of magic over reality. Because this assumes that there is a concrete reality and every now and then something magical appears. In contrast, our real experience is based in the intermingling of reality and the fantastical.
As a child, and even today, I have always been captivated by the form not only of stories and storytelling, but also of conversation and the way people pause and leave space for someone to intervene. All the ways that, especially when you’re a child, you’re charmed and steered just by words alone.
When I saw La Ciénaga finished, I realized that the overall structure of the movie was very similar to the way my mother would have told the story of a child’s death, trying to find a lot of small situations to foretell that death that was going to occur.”