THE STORY – A Bolivian Andean midwife’s apprentice, bound by ancestral tradition, pursues her dream of becoming a singer in the city.
THE CAST – María Magdalena Sanizo, Marisol Vallejos Montaño & Nely Huayta
THE TEAM – Álvaro Olmos Torrico (Director/Writer)
THE RUNNING TIME – 109 Minutes
If good films permit us to discover hidden and even forgotten corners of our vast universe, perhaps no movie at TIFF 2025 was better than Bolivia’s “The Condor Daughter.” The film focuses on young Clara (21-year old actress Marisol Vallejos Montaño) and her adoptive mother Ana (María Magdalena Sanizo), an aging midwife. Both see their tranquil lives upended and challenged by the encroachment of the modern world, to differing results and consequences. The story, by Bolivian writer and director Álvaro Olmos Torrico, is one of the most understated yet beautiful of the ones we discovered at this year’s TIFF.
Clara is a teenager growing up in a small indigenous community high in the Andes. She spends her days as an assistant in training to Ana, who believes fiercely in the importance of certain Quechua rituals to ensure healthy deliveries in their remote indigenous community. The scenery is as breathtaking as it is remote and isolating. Cinematographer Nicolas Wong Diaz peppers the film with methodical, paused shots of volcanos, fields, clouds, and mountains. The filmmakers’ love of the environmental setting equals only that of their two main characters.
Ana is one of a long lineage of women that have followed ancient ways to guide mothers through childbirth and bring new lives into their peaceful environments. Clara is devoted to the trade, but she is also young and curious, and has a majestically stunning voice, one that’s discovered by chance by a talent seeker when she is roaming about the countryside. More generally, the community’s ability to carry on with all of their traditions is threatened by the reality of modernity. The death of a child during birth prompts government doctors to visit and to attempt to persuade women to use Western medicine and forego at-home births. Global climate change is destroying the lands and therefore the crops upon which the families depend for survival. Clara covets modernity and excitement, what with the existence of radios and iPhones, while Ana desperately wishes to cling on to tradition and for Clara to follow in her footsteps. But the allure of the city and the chance to develop a singing career may prove too powerful.
“The Condor Daughter” is in a way a straightforward, tried and true story about the challenges to traditions and customs that modernity brings. Filmmakers routinely explore the push and pull between convention and self-fulfillment, between ancient rituals and newer values and opportunities. But this movie ends up feeling vastly different than many others that take on similar subjects. For one, it feels more sincere. Olmos Torrico tries his hardest to paint an alluring picture of both sides of the argument, but his lyrical expression of love towards the Quechua community and the Quechua woman at the heart of his tale are powerful and obvious. He falls decidedly on the side of a family-centered group of people united in a common purpose. What’s more, he refuses to demonize or malign modernity. His choice is a preference, not a preaching lesson.
The aesthetic techniques in “The Condor Daughter” add significantly to this impassioned narrative. The landscapes and outdoors cinematography stand out, as previously mentioned, but Wong Diaz and Olmos Torrico also create a character out of the city that the film eventually visits. The lights, the hustle, the bustle, and the noise all come alive in spectacular fashion, even for those who consider themselves the most cynical of city dwellers. They overwhelm Ana but enamor Clara, which means the city scenes have a similar effect on the audience.
“The Condor Daughter” also features subtle, restrained sound design and scoring for the country, but jagged and pointed ones for the city. All of this helps further immerse us in the rhythms of the characters’ daily lives and in the emotional undertones of the narrative. The film’s pacing is deliberately measured, allowing audiences time to absorb both the beauty of the setting and the gravity of the characters’ choices. Through its careful craftsmanship, the film stands out not only as a cultural portrait, but as a quiet meditation.
At the heart of all of this are convincing performances from both women. Vallejos Montaño captivates with her jagged features, laser-focused eyes, and quiet determination. Sanizo is quiet but assured in her convictions of her craft, the chants she intones, and the prophecies she assuredly offers. The two actresses create likable characters in two women who will not be relatable to the vast majority, if not every single one of the audience members. This is no small feat for a tale of such a small little corner of the world. If anything bad can be said about “The Condor Daughter,” it’s that it is so niche as if almost to be made for an audience of none.
Despite this specificity, “The Condor Daughter” evokes universal emotions of belonging, loss, and coming of age. It thus, astonishingly, allows the viewers to connect with Clara and Ana’s journeys and their internal struggles, regardless of the viewer’s own background. The soft but determined portrayal of generational struggle and of the tension between progress and tradition resonates deeply. The complexities faced by communities grappling with change may not be one with which most audiences have experience, but will be one with which they will be able to sympathize.
