Of condors and men with metal skin: a review of Pachamama

Pachamama

Directed by Juan Antin

Written by Christophe Poujol & Juan Antin

Produced by Didier Brunner

Starring Adam Moussamih, Charli Birdgenaw, Vlasta Vrana

Music by Pierre Hamon

Production company Folivari

Distributed by Netflix

Running time 72 minutes

Countries France, Luxembourg, Canada

Languages English & French

Pachamama is another of those little treasures that would have simply vanished into obscurity had Netflix not decided to add it to their library. They really do have good luck—and expertise—in finding foreign productions that deserve a wider audience.

This feature is a children’s story, about and for children. A boy in a small village dreams of becoming shaman, but is too shallow and immature to be considered for the task. A revenue agent from the Incan capital turns up and takes the village’s Huaca, a small golden statue that the village believes is their conduit to the gods. Tepulpai, the boy, ends up traveling to the capital with a peer frenemy, Naira, in hopes of convincing the Great Inca (ruler who may never touch the ground) of returning the statue. En route they find a Chasqui, a foot messenger who conveys news across the vast empire. Dying, he tells a grim tale of floating cities, with men with metal skins and hair on their faces who are approaching from the east. The children take this news to the Great Inca, hoping to use it to leverage return of the statue. He doesn’t believe them, but shortly thereafter the Spaniards turn up, and one of the grimmest times in Mesoamerica begins.

Being a children’s tale, the resolution of this particular story isn’t as horrible as historic reality, but it’s obvious the children have won what is only a respite. It gives what otherwise might be a lightweight tale a bittersweet and foreboding air, and adds gravitas to the movie.

Now on Netflix.