Director Robie Flores moves back to her hometown Eagle Pass on the U. S.-Mexico border to capture the moments of serenity and community she remembers from growing up there, in contrast to Pr-sident Tr-mp's depiction of the small town as a place where dr-gs and cr-me enter the U. S.
Sifting through home videos taken by her late brother Marcelo and candid shots of children and families who currently reside in the small town, Flores chases traces of what it felt like living there. She weaves together cinematic, close-up shots--of residents playing football, performing Selena, and singing karaoke--with long shots to remind us how easily we take the beauty of ordinary moments for granted.
Instead of interviews, we're immersed in the daily chatter in Eagle Pass, invited to feel the gentle breeze during sunset, stillness of nature on a fishing trip, and rumble of b-rder p-trol passing by children playing and running in the streets.
Sifting through home videos taken by her late brother Marcelo and candid shots of children and families who currently reside in the small town, Flores chases traces of what it felt like living there. She weaves together cinematic, close-up shots--of residents playing football, performing Selena, and singing karaoke--with long shots to remind us how easily we take the beauty of ordinary moments for granted.
Instead of interviews, we're immersed in the daily chatter in Eagle Pass, invited to feel the gentle breeze during sunset, stillness of nature on a fishing trip, and rumble of b-rder p-trol passing by children playing and running in the streets.
