All I knew was that it was a story about a live-in housekeeper/nanny who did not look too happy in the poster image. I also knew that things are complicated when you have help in the household because I am from India where part-time and full-time help are as common as a common sparrow - you notice it only when it makes too much noise. In the very first scene, Raquel, the maid, looks up from her plate at the kitchen table: her perch, her cage, her refuge. She looks straight at the camera and the spectators find themselves being stared down. Raquel seemed to be saying, "you watch, I'll show you what I can do!" and, "welcome to my life, ever see it from this side?" and because she was in uniform, she seemed to be speaking for all maids all over the world, "it's not funny!" I loved that moment. It spoke volumes. After more than two decades of her most youthful years used up cleaning after the kids, cooking, serving, and staying out of the way yet available when needed, Raquel is spent. Her symptoms include bad headaches, spells of dizziness and a perpetual glowering, smoldering expression, passive-aggressive to say the least. The feverish camera movements are synchronized perfectly with Raquel's perspective and Silva's intentions: to make us appreciate her perspective, the ascent and descent of her everyday life. Rising every morning before everyone else, showering, preparing breakfast and snacks for the kids, sending them to school, serving coffee in bed to her masters, vacuuming, scrubbing, laundering, popping pills as she goes along, and then one day finally falling down the stairs in a fainting spell. It had to be that or I was sure she was going to kill someone. If looks could kill, hers surely would have. Driven by the fear (anger and hurt, really) of losing her "family" spot or being "replaced" by a younger more energetic type, Raquel had started showing signs of abnormal and anti-social behavior. When the decision to hire a new maid is finally announced, it is received as nothing less than a declaration of war. It's betrayal, blackball, and banishment, and since Raquel apparently has no where else to go, she fights for what she believes is hers alone. Locking the new maids out of the house, using liberal doses of sarcasm, hiding food from the kids, scrubbing bathtubs with Clorox each time the new maids shower in it
even getting rid of the new kitten who would seemed to be threatening to take her place in receiving whatever little love and affection she gets from the kids. Silva never lets us decide who is going to win.
The first additional help hired is a young Peruvian girl who probably symbolizes the current reality in big cities such as Santiago where many Peruvians work as housemaids. Sarcasm directed at the new arrival highlights the intercultural tension present just below the surface of things: "So, you're obviously going to feed Peruvian fare to the family!" This continues for a while until, of course, the good-natured Lucy shows up, and, little by little, wins Raquel's friendship and heart, and provides the opportunity for a dignified exit to all concerned. Sebastián Silva managed to make me laugh about a dark subject by capturing the human elements out of a sea of depressing and gloomy facts: an unorganized, unaccounted for, underpaid, overworked, silent, oft-abused and more-oft simply ignored group of workers. The dark uniform with white collar and front plastic zipper is a great touch. It helps eliminate any tell-tale signs of the life and context of the donner and provides an even and nameless exterior soothing any guilt the employer might harbor. I kept shifting in my seat trying to get comfortable and realized later that perhaps my unease had to do with the fact that Silva reminded me about how socio-economic differences and race play themselves out in reality, about how people are most comfortable within the circle of their own class (when Lucy takes Raquel home to spend Christmas together), how class differences alienate and isolate, and how they are simply there, that's all there is to it. These days, most middle- class families that hire domestic help get part-time help to cook, clean, do laundry and dusting so that the masters can go to work and not have to worry about it all when they get home tired after a day's work. Many Westerners would be less able to relate to this film for lack of experience in this area. Many others would. For it's not just in countries like Chile and India that there is domestic help. We have it here in the US as well. Raquel, being a live- in maid, though, complicates matters a lot. A live-in maid suggests that she is working for a wealthier family who can afford to have someone provide a gentle wake-up call in the morning with coffee in bed. Raquel does not go home to a family (remember the heart- wrenching scene when she cries uncontrollably while talking to her mother we never see), she does not have a life of her own or hobbies to pursue during her time off, and she does not know how to (cannot) get herself out of it. While Raquel is considered "family" by her employers — Pilar certainly makes an effort to treat her with kindness and concern — the subtitle of the movie reads "she's more or less family." In that euphemism resides, in my humble opinion, the core of this dark comedy. After the film, as we were walking back to the parking garage on 2nd street, Katharine remarked (I paraphrase), "you know, I read somewhere that after the film was made, the director's real maid saw it and took off, deciding to get a (new) life!" For this 30-year old director the film has earned a lot of fame, and for his maids, it has earned freedom,
The first additional help hired is a young Peruvian girl who probably symbolizes the current reality in big cities such as Santiago where many Peruvians work as housemaids. Sarcasm directed at the new arrival highlights the intercultural tension present just below the surface of things: "So, you're obviously going to feed Peruvian fare to the family!" This continues for a while until, of course, the good-natured Lucy shows up, and, little by little, wins Raquel's friendship and heart, and provides the opportunity for a dignified exit to all concerned. Sebastián Silva managed to make me laugh about a dark subject by capturing the human elements out of a sea of depressing and gloomy facts: an unorganized, unaccounted for, underpaid, overworked, silent, oft-abused and more-oft simply ignored group of workers. The dark uniform with white collar and front plastic zipper is a great touch. It helps eliminate any tell-tale signs of the life and context of the donner and provides an even and nameless exterior soothing any guilt the employer might harbor. I kept shifting in my seat trying to get comfortable and realized later that perhaps my unease had to do with the fact that Silva reminded me about how socio-economic differences and race play themselves out in reality, about how people are most comfortable within the circle of their own class (when Lucy takes Raquel home to spend Christmas together), how class differences alienate and isolate, and how they are simply there, that's all there is to it. These days, most middle- class families that hire domestic help get part-time help to cook, clean, do laundry and dusting so that the masters can go to work and not have to worry about it all when they get home tired after a day's work. Many Westerners would be less able to relate to this film for lack of experience in this area. Many others would. For it's not just in countries like Chile and India that there is domestic help. We have it here in the US as well. Raquel, being a live- in maid, though, complicates matters a lot. A live-in maid suggests that she is working for a wealthier family who can afford to have someone provide a gentle wake-up call in the morning with coffee in bed. Raquel does not go home to a family (remember the heart- wrenching scene when she cries uncontrollably while talking to her mother we never see), she does not have a life of her own or hobbies to pursue during her time off, and she does not know how to (cannot) get herself out of it. While Raquel is considered "family" by her employers — Pilar certainly makes an effort to treat her with kindness and concern — the subtitle of the movie reads "she's more or less family." In that euphemism resides, in my humble opinion, the core of this dark comedy. After the film, as we were walking back to the parking garage on 2nd street, Katharine remarked (I paraphrase), "you know, I read somewhere that after the film was made, the director's real maid saw it and took off, deciding to get a (new) life!" For this 30-year old director the film has earned a lot of fame, and for his maids, it has earned freedom,