Alamar

Every once in a while you come across a film that delivers on the promise of cinema, a film that transports you to another world, that reveals something deep and true about the human condition, and that shows a mastery of the art and craft of filmmaking. Right now for me, that film is Pedro González-Rubio’s Alamar (To the Sea).

Set in Banco Chinchorro, an endangered but naturally pristine coral reef in the Mexican Caribbean, Alamar centers on the relationship between a five-year-old boy (Natan) and his father (Jorge), who has taken him to live in a remote fishing village. Natan’s mom and Jorge, we learn through voice-over and an opening photo montage, are separating. Natan will ultimately live with his mother in Italy, but first will spend some quality time by the sea with Jorge and Matraca, an older friend of Jorge’s and a grandfatherly figure.

The film is in Spanish with subtitles, something I was concerned about with the kids. But the dialogue is sparse enough, and the story enchanting enough for children, that my three- and six-year-old were riveted the entire time and seemed unbothered by my reading subtitles to them.

Watching Alamar is very much like watching a documentary, and judging by the names of the cast, it seems that most characters are playing themselves. Natan really is Jorge’s son and the film seems to be a sort of hybrid between fact and fiction, giving it an emotional power. In one of the early scenes, we see Natan and Jorge on a motorboat on the way to the little house on piers where they will live. Natan is terribly seasick and his sympathetic father holds him lovingly. Throughout the film, the bond between them is evident and poignant.

There are many captivating scenes of life by the water. The men fish using spears and snorkels, and it is fascinating to watch them swimming underwater. One of the more surprising characters is a white egret, whom Natan names Blanquita. The bird arrives one day and sticks around, eating offerings from the fishermen and even climbing onto Jorge’s arm. According to notes I read about the film, Blanquita’s presence on the set was sheer luck, but she becomes an important part of the story, offering lessons about attachment and loss, and the potential for humans to connect with the natural world.

What is most notable about Alamar, as far as my kids go, is that very little happens. This is a good thing. There are no suspenseful scenes, no real danger or threat—just beautiful glimpses into a lifestyle and landscape that are little-known to us. There is love aplenty, and a sense of joy and discovery.

Knowing that the boy and his father would soon be separated gave the film an emotional depth that I appreciated. The kids were not so attuned to this, although it did spark some conversation about divorce with Pearl, my six-year-old. This was helpful as she has recently known friends whose parents are separating. It’s a hard topic for kids to understand, but the film makes clear that a parent’s love for a child can survive distance and separation. Jorge’s connection to Natan has a primordial quality to it—the bond between father and son seem as old and enduring as the sea itself.

I highly recommend this film for kids of all ages. Many thanks to my friend Annie’s mom, Lorna, for telling me about it!