Maya (2024) Film Review
In the very complex conversation about the influence of social media during the key phases of childhood, we’ve learned about the importance of including matters that are extremely uncomfortable to talk about. However, it feels like it’s never enough. Children are prey, and the hunters have found creative ways to work around the shields society has established. All this to say, we’ve taken trust for granted. The trust that we give children for them to figure out what’s wrong or convenient. As protective as parents should be, opinions differ on what should be done and from what perspective. Should awkward discussions be more graphic to cause an impact? Prohibiting the access seems extreme, but it’s an extreme measure that feels logical on some cases, such like the one presented in the film Maya, an indie feature that’s much more relevant to our current times than we think.
But don’t get me wrong. The formula is simple and integral to the message. Maya doesn’t twirl around pretending to be a film it isn’t. It’s an impactful retelling of thousands of stories that center around a child whose circumstances drive her to a hole that in the past we’ve addressed as pure doom. Sure, it gets a little bit too dramatic, but in the core of it, there’s a story that’s worth observing and analyzing further. Not exactly the point about why Maya does what she does, but why she feels the need to. That’s the part of the conversation we need to add, stat.
In the film, a teenage girl by the name of Maya is trying to deal with a situation she shouldn’t deal with. Her mother is an addict and is constantly under the threat of her abusive boyfriend. Maya is shocked when after a brutal attack, she takes him back. She seeks comfort in the communication hub that is her cellphone. Not much time passes when she meets a cute boy through the Internet.
Ray offers her the world her mother can’t offer, and Maya decides to trust him. At first, she becomes the “online girlfriend.” And then he says she could become a model, get married to him and move with him somewhere. Maya runs away from home and instantly becomes part of a human trafficking ring.
Maya does a good job at portraying the gruesome territory of sex trafficking. But it’s definitely not the most prominent aspect of the film. The character-driven story shows Maya’s fragile innocence being destroyed by a manipulative villain and her mother finding solace in her own rehabilitation process. When the film is based on their interaction it becomes a thought-provoking reflection of teenage angst and how the current social dynamics have an influence on that.
It’s exciting when a film like Maya is much broader in nature than we give it credit for at first. And this is what’s most important and effective about Verdin’s film. Halfway through Maya, it seems like the story is over and the conflict has been resolved. But trauma is still very much alive. Even if she’s hurt, both physically and emotionally, Maya believes Ray is the solution to all her problems. This great depiction of Stockholm Syndrome leads to a climax, but I’d rather stay with Maya’s personal conflict that speaks loudly about the ability to cope at that age, and how we sometimes take for granted the sacred trust that gets moved around during a period a maturity and growth. That’s what Maya is about. Recognizing and cleverly dealing with the fragility of that period of decision-making that is crucial when facing threats like grooming, sexual predators, and other online monstrosities.
And finally, performances by Patricia Velasquez and Isabella Feliciana as the mother and Maya respectively, are not only good. They’re essential to making the film believable and compelling.
