Esta Isla

It’s curious how one’s locale can simultaneously inspire mixed feelings of fondness and contempt. One might well be maddeningly frustrated by its prevailing conditions and desperately want to get out while at the same time feeling a certain affection for it simply because it’s one’s home. That kind of love/hate relationship permeates the lives of a family living in a small, impoverished Puerto Rican coastal town where every day is a struggle to get by. Such is the life experience of brothers Charlie (Xavier Antonio Morales) and Bebo (Zion Ortiz), fishermen by day who pursue an array of side hustles largely at night to make ends meet, some of them of a rather sordid nature. Charlie, the elder sibling, does what he can to protect his younger brother from the perils of the gangsta life while attempting to keep up respectable appearances for the devout but practical grandmother (Georgina Borri) who raised the boys after their parents died. But, when Bebo becomes involved with a “well-meaning” drug dealer (Audicio Robles) who wants to help the young man supplement his income, troubles arise. To complicate matters, in the meantime, Bebo falls for one of his clients, Lola (Fabiola Brown), a onetime aspiring ballerina from a wealthy but dysfunctional family whose privileged economic status is the polar opposite of her new boyfriend. However, when trouble unexpectedly erupts, Bebo must hurriedly flee for his safety, with Lola tagging along for the ride in a classic coming of age, young-lovers-on-the-run tale in order to seek sanctuary in a remote location. During this eventful road trip journey, viewers are taken on a panoramic tour of Puerto Rico’s diverse landscape, one that includes stops at a diverse array of locales that spotlight the island’s beauty and the challenges of living in an economically, environmentally and socially distressed “colonial” territory. Throughout this odyssey, Bebo and Lola routinely vent their frustrations about their circumstances and the conditions on “this island,” a term often uttered in a decidedly disdainful tone (hence the title). But, for all of “this island’s” shortcomings, it’s also home for the young protagonists, a challenge to which they struggle to come to terms in the face of all their own personal ordeals, scenarios that metaphorically reflect the larger societal conditions present in “Boricua.” First-time feature writer-directors Cristian Carretero and Lorraine Jones have assembled a richly layered story that effectively illustrates the many parallels between the life of the island and that of its residents, deftly portrayed with nuance, subtlety, deliberate and skillful restraint, and lush cinematography, with fine performances from its principal and supporting cast members. Admittedly, the story takes a little longer than expected to find its footing, and it can become a tad meandering as it plays out, particularly in the final act. Nevertheless, this is generally a fine first directorial effort that helped the picture capture the Independent Spirit Awards’ John Cassavetes Award, the first offering from Puerto Rico ever to win such a prize. What’s more, though, it also effectively illustrates how it’s indeed possible to both adore and berate something simultaneously and showing us, ironically, how both can ultimately be true.