Marisol (Esmerelda Camargo) has dreamed for years of going to college, to be the first person in her family to get a degree and do exactly what she wants to do. She’s earned a scholarship and she has an opportunity to be admitted to college–but something has happened. Now falsely accused of a crime, the life that she has worked toward is hanging in the balance. Everything is about to change, and Marisol needs to make things right.
Marisol is a character that the world has seen hundreds of times–well, they’ve seen characters similar to her. Marisol approaches the idea of illegal immigrants in a way that is just slightly different than when I’ve seen before–and that small change makes a massive difference in the narrative. It’s often hard to feel bad for people that have done illegal things, for people that have done things that they know they shouldn’t and then think that it’s alright to play victim. However, Marisol is different. While she has technically done something illegal, she can’t be blamed for her actions–not in the slightest. Marisol appears as if it will be like every other film like this that has come before, but the shift in the narrative happens so quickly–and from that moment forward viewers will be rooting for Marisol.
What the film does that frustrated me so much was the fact that they seemingly work toward ostracizing one particular group of people. It seems that Writer Claire Audrey Aguayo and Director Kevin Abrams want to point out that one specific group of individuals is beyond saving, and that they don’t deserve the luxury of being forgiven for their shortcomings. The film’s antagonist is Justin (Theo Taplitz), a scumbag of epic proportions–there’s no discounting that, but he’s painted in a way that makes him part of a bigger, more obvious group. In these moments, and there really aren’t too many of them, I found myself frustrated, as if certain ideas and ideals were being shoved down my throat–and that’s not what a film needs to do. The film effectively eliminates part of its potential audience by being too aggressive in these moments.
There are certain aspects regarding the cinematography that I found confusing. There is a significant height difference between some of the characters in Marisol–and the way in which they are shown on screen together a handful of times steals from their performances and the intended drama at those points. There was one scene in particular, one between Marisol’s cousin, Jaime (Max Pelayo), and her best friend, Helen (Mia King), in which only part of Jaime’s face can be seen. He, too, is important to the scene, to that moment–but viewers don’t get to experience his emotion, to understand how he’s feeling. Instances like these steal from the emotional relevance and the film as a whole.
I genuinely enjoyed the attention to detail and the subtle nuances strewn throughout the course of Marisol in regard to things going on in the background. Even things like social media sites when viewers are able to see the chat feed present on a computer screen are well developed. I often find it cheesy, the language that is used in social media and text conversations in films, almost cringey, but Marisol captures the true essence of these conversations. They feel real and honest, and they help to strengthen the narrative and make the film feel more real.
Marisol is a powerful drama that manipulates familiar stories in a way that allows viewers to access them and better appreciate them. There are certainly moments when the narrative oversteps, when the film shines light on certain individuals in a way that is unsavory and unfair. There’s never a real balance in this regard–however, there is enough good to make viewers forget about the bad. Marisol has its flaws, but it’s honestly a really well made movie with a lot of value.
Directed by Kevin Abrams.
Written by Claire Audrey Aguayo.
Starring Esmerelda Camargo, David Delao, Liana Mendoza, Max Pelayo, Mia King, Theo Taplitz, etc.
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐/10
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