Marcelo Müller) and director, Benjamín Ávila (at left) makes certain that we understand the necessity of activists rising up against a tyrannical dictatorship at the same time as he makes clear how deprived in certain ways is their child, the boy who is at the center of this relative-ly stringent movie.
The film's greatest strength -- aside from being compulsively interesting and occasionally nail-bitingly suspenseful -- is that it forces you to identify with all its major characters: those who must fight against oppression, even if it takes their own lives, leaving their children bereft (and who knows what else?); the relatives who want to help the family but are too frightened and cowed by the violence against dissidents to join in their "revolution"; and most of all, the boy himself, torn between the normal needs and desires of approaching adolescence and the need and desire to help and be part of his immediate family.
Teo Gutiérrez Romero, shown above center, with mom and dad), who will soon be living under the alias of Ernesto, with a fake passport, birth date, birth place, history -- the works.
Ernesto Alterio, above, right) and father argue over the birthday party for the boy soon to take place here at "home" with all his school mates. Does the revolution halt for this event, or is the party merely a wasteful pastime?
Cristina Banegas), and the rest of his immediate family, partic-ularly his mother (a rich, multi-layered perfor-mance from Natalia Oreiro, at left, with gun, and 3 photos above), about the child's well-being. There is no "answer" to these questions, only despair, anger and maybe, just a little, hope. The movie is based upon real-life characters; how truthful to the actual characters the film is, I have no idea. But as an entertaining, thought-provoking movie, Clandestine Childhood hits the proverbial nail dead center, with its shock waves manifesting still.