‘The Devil Smokes (and Saves the Burnt Matches in the Same Box)’ Review: A Childhood Survival Story as Strange and Beguiling as Its Title

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In children’s stories, it’s common for parents to be removed from the plot, either swiftly or dramatically – like in Roald Dahl’s “James and the Giant Peach,” where it happens as brutally as a rhino attack (described later). This allows young characters to feel more independent. However, in the story “The Devil Smokes (and Saves the Burnt Matches in the Same Box),” the absence of the parents triggers a gradual unraveling of reality for the five main characters, causing fear rather than liberation. Mexican director Ernesto Martínez Bucio’s debut film, titled intriguingly, skillfully places viewers within a child’s perplexed perspective, offering no reassuring omniscient viewpoint.

In its narrative, the film by Martínez Bucio is cryptic yet powerfully vivid in depicting various childhood apprehensions and desires across different ages. This unique piece won the top honor at Berlinale’s newly formed Perspectives competition for debut films, showcasing its elusive tone and perspective, as well as the director’s skillful handling of a largely young, novice cast. The accolade is likely to spark distributor interest in a challenging, puzzling psychological drama that resembles Kore-eda’s “Nobody Knows” and Erice’s “The Spirit of the Beehive,” though it deviates from the typical heartwarming coming-of-age story one might anticipate given its plotline and charming protagonists.

The film begins with a chaotic arrangement of torn family photos created by young hands, symbolizing the disarray of their lives. This opening scene hints at both the movie’s narrative twists and its unconventional style, as the director, collaborating with co-writer Karen Plata and cinematographer Odei Zabaleta, intentionally mirrors the non-linear confusion and occasional gaps in recollections of a fractured childhood. Set during a hot, humid summer in Mexico City in the early 1990s, just before the arrival of Pope John Paul II, the residents of a cramped house in the suburbs sense an unwelcome presence that seems more sinister than divine. The elderly and senile Romana (played by Carmen Ramos) forewarns her grandchildren about the devil lurking nearby, ready to seep into their home and their very beings.

Despite not facing the danger of a satanic attack, the household remains susceptible due to internal struggles. Judith (Micaela Gramajo), a thirty-something nurse and mother, seems to be battling mental health problems and has abandoned her family. In her absence, she gives them five new pairs of shoes as a parting gift for her children: Vanessa (Laura Uribe Rojas), Victor (Donovan Said), Elsa (Mariapau Bravo Avina), Marisol (Regina Alejandra) and Tomas (Rafael Nieto Martinez). Emiliano (Bernardo Gamboa), the children’s father, has left to find Judith, leaving them in Romana’s weak and inconsistent care. The older siblings Vanessa and Victor take on what responsibilities they can for the younger ones; however, no one within this household seems well-prepared to look after themselves or others.

The young ones are not yet mature enough to dismiss Romana’s growing hysteria about impending doom. She’s a somewhat frightening and cold individual, who instills fear in her own right, leading her young followers into her paranoid beliefs. Together, they withdraw from the world outside, their home becoming a vulnerable bubble with newspapers on the windows and strips of sticky paper hanging ominously from the ceiling. The humor in this situation arises from the casual, eccentric conversations between the siblings, all portrayed superbly by newcomers, and their unusual, creative ideas, such as Victor’s attempts to speak with the devil using candles.

In some areas, the fogginess is unnecessary for advancing the storyline or creating a specific ambiance: It requires effort to distinguish individual characters and their relationships from the overall household disorder. Generally, “The Devil Smokes” skillfully portrays the children’s lack of comprehension regarding adult issues. By what isn’t shown or mentioned, we gradually come to sense an atmosphere of mental and marital deterioration that the children have unwittingly found themselves in the midst of. In other instances, flashbacks are depicted through home video footage, which sometimes gets glitchy, with snapshots of adult despair accidentally included in what should be moments of family happiness.

Martínez Bucio and Zabaleta’s preference for singed sepia tones might remind one of old, sun-faded or underdeveloped family photos, sometimes appearing with an effect of film burn around the edges. However, this aesthetic isn’t about creating a warm, nostalgic feeling. Instead, the movie’s visuals seem dry and shrouded in shadows, giving off a subtle sense of impending doom. As the camera, roaming like Zabaleta, explores the home, it makes it appear smaller with each passing moment. In many tales about children in crisis, the presence of social services is often portrayed as a threat; in this case, though, it could be that the authorities are bringing light into the situation.

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2025-02-26 19:48