El Carrito (2022) Short Film Review
Some short films are scripted and shot with an absolute regard to the medium they’re being run in. It’s a relevant point considering not all short films are consistent with this pattern that‘s “only effective when done well”: You don’t have the luxury to tell the whole story and there are some facts that the viewers will have to observe by themselves and their immersion in the film.
In Zahida Pirani’s El Carrito, a woman’s struggle is so necessary she has become a survivor in her own world of crisis, improvisation and risk. She endures fear. When she’s inside her tiny home, she must deal with her ill father who innocently lets everyone inside their home. But when she’s outside, failure becomes massively horrific. She sells food out of her broken cart to anyone on the streets. She isn’t alone. Her competition is important.
Nelly is a reflection of illegal immigration and the depressive outcome some fear when facing the reality of americana and lack of opportunities. And in El Carrito nothing is confirmed by dramatics, long dialogues or excessive expressions. Pirani decides to do something out of the silence, the dark and Nelly’s constant disappointment. In her personality, one that can’t triumph by any means, a spirit of resilience lies. And when surviving, happiness is a luxury we can’t afford. Nelly can only “win” when she enters the track confidently and without any immediate concern.
At only 15 minutes long, El Carrito submits Nelly to a wide array of issues that condensed in such a short film may seem unfair. But it’s the world of the informal worker, the street vendor who can see their world crumble down in a few seconds due to crime, violence and even those who are supposed to serve and protect. Her tranquility is only apparent when she decides to trust another element out of desperation. I won’t say what it is, but her surprise is part of the reason the film works in its conclusion.
And then justice arrives. Nelly’s sacrifice pays off in a very awkward realization of the world she lives in. One where kindness resides in chances that are quite small. However, what the story provides in the ending isn’t exactly a turning point for the viewer. Nelly doesn’t necessarily encounter the change she needs. She just loses control and out of that loss, something positive arrives. In the same improvisational fashion, she has found her “enemies” aren’t exactly that.
From its first frantic seconds, Eli Zavala’s performance is sharp enough to let you know her current state. She’s a resource for Pirani whose layered direction allows the story to be known from the very beginning. Zavala doesn’t attempt to overkill, even if her character allows for desperation to overwhelm her at any second.
El Carrito tells a story. One that’s born out of a thousand tales of workers who must survive a system that seems ideal, but isn’t at the end. The universality of some films is inevitable. In Pirani’s short film, it’s invasive.
