All the Small Things: Eimbcke Explores the Pleasures of Disruption
The titular insects of Fernando Eimbcke’s latest feature, Flies (Moscas), metaphorically represent an unwanted, aggravating presence. But sometimes, these are elements which force us to snap out of stagnation and ennui, as is the case with the somewhat cold, and initially closed off Olga, an older woman who’s resigned herself to a sort of social oblivion in modern day Mexico City. Shot in black and white by DP Maria Secco, the Mexican metropolis is reduced to gray, dismal stretches of a sprawling apartment block, which visually feels more akin to East Berlin. An unexpected necessity for extra cash leads Olga to open her apartment to a temporary tenant (under quite specific circumstances), and much to her (and our) surprise, the innocence of a young boy resuscitates her empathy.
Olga (Teresita Sánchez) lives a quiet, humdrum existence. A pesky fly awakens her doze, eluding her frustrated attempts to stop its buzzing. She seems rather nonplussed with her neighbors, viewing others as taking up space, tearing down ads for residents attempting to rent out additional rooms. A visit to the doctor reveals Olga is actually in need of nail surgery on her big toe. But the procedure requires local anesthetization, and is not something she can easily afford. Inspired by the ads she’d torn down, Olga decides to rent out her own spare room to relatives needing to be near patients in the hospital around the corner. She immediately receives a call from Tulio (Hugo Ramírez), whose wife, currently receiving chemotherapy, has been hospitalized. But Tulio has a nine-year-old son, Cristian (Bastian Escobar). Rather than tell Olga, he sneaks the child in and out of the room, a situation she quickly discovers. Demanding they leave, a situation presents itself where Olga is alone with the child. And despite her demeanor, Cristian gets under her skin.
There’s always the danger of precocious children to appear as twee, especially when they’re central narrative figures, but newcomer Bastian Escobar is quite exceptionally naturalistic as the playful, observant Cristian. In part this is due to Eimbcke’s script, co-written by Vanesa Garnica (who also co wrote his last feature, Olmo, 2025). Dialogue is sparse, often unassuming, as we witness the tender but hardworking Tulio managing an impossible situation. Out of necessity, he sneaks Cristian into the rented room, partially because Olga is so damn unfeeling. Her first words upon his arrival are “I don’t want to hear about your sick relative.” The reaction upon her discovery of her undocumented guest hardly suggests his assumptions were wrong, cruelly demanding they find new lodging within a week’s time.
The main dramatic catalyst moving the plot forward is money. Olga needs to pay for an expensive nail surgery (the discomfort of which is likely exacerbating her already ornery nature) and the costs of lodging and expensive medication require Tulio to disappear to find work, leaving Cristian alone with Olga. Quickly we realize the young boy has become adept at recognizing the desires and needs which motivate people to be helpful or kind, as evidenced by his tenacity in gaining entrance to the hospital to visit his mother (where unaccompanied children are not allowed). The female guards, at first dismissive, quickly grow fond of him, an unwanted presence who ends up brightening their day. Of course, he eventually becomes this for Olga, who reveals, in not so many words, a loss which explains her self-isolation.
Sánchez (from Lila Avilés’ Totem, 2023), transforms quite quickly from gruff curmudgeon to graceful helpmate, all which follow an act of human intimacy. Secco is often showcasing how human touch dissipates the fog of urban despair. On paper, such an about face might sound unbelievable, but in reality it’s always formidable how fast kindness works. But the real momentum of the film belongs to Bastian Escobar, who is, in essence, just being a child who misses his mother. The lesson learned here is old as human existence – you catch more flies with honey.
Reviewed on February 18th at the 2026 Berlin International Film Festival (76th edition) – Main Competition. 99 mins.
★★★½/☆☆☆☆☆
