THE STORY – Mexico, early 90s. Bruno grows up in a happy, carefree family. On his eleventh birthday, as he learns his father is ill, this zest for life takes over. Everyone keeps on singing and dancing to ward off fate, like in a salsa song. Thirty years later, Bruno films and revisits the memories he couldn’t quite fathom as a child.
THE CAST – Jade Reyes, Sofía Espinosa, Lázaro Gabino, Eduardo Ayala, Valeria Vanegas, Anuar Vera, Teresa Sánchez, Valentina Cohen, Nara Carreira & Demick Lopes
THE TEAM – Bruno Santamaría Razo (Director/Writer)
THE RUNNING TIME – 105 Minutes
Melding documentary elements into narrative-style filmmaking isn’t necessarily groundbreaking. It could be argued that films like “Nomadland,” “Flee,” and “The Thin Blue Line” famously blur these genre lines. The next filmmaker to do so successfully might be Mexican writer-director Bruno Santamaria Razo, who has come to Cannes Critics’ Week with an autobiographical film, “Six Months in a Pink and Blue Building.” His most bespoke project yet is a reflective and stirring queer drama in which Razo revisits his own personal, heart-wrenching subject matter from his childhood 30 years later, and does so in a tactful and authentic style.
Set in Mexico City in the early 1990s, “Six Months in a Pink and Blue Building” follows 11-year-old Bruno (portrayed by a stirring Jade Reyes), a young boy grappling with his growing feelings for his best friend, Vladimir. And while this is reason enough to spur a crisis, especially for a child, Bruno’s troubles are exacerbated by the announcement that his father (Lázaro Gabino) has been diagnosed with HIV. Already feeling an insurmountable amount of confusion, guilt, and ambivalence due to his feelings, the young boy is plunged into an even more difficult situation while witnessing his family around him absorb and manage this emotional blow.
It makes sense that elements of documentary filmmaking are apparent throughout “Six Months in a Pink and Blue Building,” as Razo has notable previous experience in documentaries, such as “Margarita” and “Things We Dare Not Do.” Throughout his latest film, Razo makes appearances alongside his parents in talking-head interviews, which adds a unique element that fuses genres, blurring the lines between what is real and what is truly happening on the screen. If done incorrectly, this bold choice could’ve broken the carefully built rhythm and tone, but Razo weaves the docudrama elements together in a way that maintains mood, narrative, and style.
The film’s performances are all solid and memorable. In particular, Reyes shines through despite the rather daunting task of portraying his own director in his youth. With doe eyes and a gentle demeanor, the young actor captures the full range of emotions that come with growing up: denial, acceptance, and self-discovery. Lázaro Gabino offers a moving performance acting as Razo’s HIV-positive father, and Nara Carriera carries her own as a distraught mother and wife attempting to manage an unfathomable situation with both grace and a level head.
The visuals of “Six Months in a Pink and Blue Building” stand out thanks to Fernando Hernández García’s engaging cinematography. From the way certain colors shine through the screen to the gorgeous grain on display (thanks to the decision to shoot on 16mm), the film is more than pleasing to the eyes. Artists Daniela Guardado and Constanza Martinez combine forces to deliver immersive, era-appropriate wardrobes, while Ivonne Fuentes’s art direction helps the film feel palpable and lived-in; at times, it’s as if we’re stepping into Razo’s own childhood memories via projector and VHS.
“Six Months in a Pink and Blue Building” may feel quite succinct at a 105-minute runtime. Still, the film’s unique yet fractured docu-hybrid structure – although executed successfully in a narrative sense – produces a side effect that gives the impression of a lengthier film. Though a small gripe, it nonetheless affects the flow of such an intimate and delicate story. The marriage of genres within the film may be done with purpose and produce a refreshing narrative structure, but it also has the potential to dilute its own message by disconcerting some of its audience.
Constructing an unconventional coming-of-age film that’s both unique and memorable is no simple feat. This is especially impressive given the sheer number of similar stories told and produced every year, but Razo pulls off something special with “Six Months in a Pink and Blue Building.” As the first Mexican feature premiering at Cannes Critics’ Week in over 20 years, Razo’s autobiographical tale holds immense importance in several respects. Ultimately, “Six Months in a Pink and Blue Building” can flaunt its stunning visuals, moving and authentic performances, and a rejuvenating structure that sets it apart from other films of its type. Imperfect yet palpably familiar, Raz’s charming feature emits empathy, embraces nostalgia, and showcases an inspirational strength in adversity, which is perhaps the exact type of story the world could use more of.
