Mothers of the World: A dusty, honest look at domestic weight

Is it worth your time?

If you like old-school, slow-burn dramas where people talk a lot in parlors, sure. Go for it. If you need a movie to keep you awake with plot twists or fancy camera work, skip it. You'll probably be checking your phone after twenty minutes.

There's this one scene where Alberto Galán just stares at a window for what feels like an eternity. I’m not sure if it was meant to be profound or if the actor just forgot his line for a second. It didn't matter. It felt weirdly real.

The pacing is… well, it’s not really there. It sort of drifts from one room to another. It reminds me a bit of the mood in Friend Husband, where the stakes feel tiny but the characters act like the world is ending. Maybe it is ending for them.

Odd moments that stuck

• The lighting in the second act is surprisingly dark. Like, maybe they ran out of bulbs?
• Estela Ametler has this way of sighing that makes you want to go wash the dishes.
• The background extras in the street scenes look like they’re waiting for a bus that never comes.

It’s not a masterpiece. It doesn't want to be. It feels like a stage play that someone decided to film on a Tuesday. There’s no big, swelling music to tell you how to feel. That’s a relief, honestly. I'm tired of soundtracks screaming at me.

I found myself thinking about While the Patient Slept for some reason while watching this. Maybe it's the black and white grit, or maybe I just needed a break from the melodrama here. Sometimes these old films get so caught up in their own 'importance' that they forget to just let people be people. Mothers of the World mostly avoids that trap.

I wouldn't call it essential viewing. But for a rainy afternoon? It's fine. It's just a movie, sitting there, doing its thing. No bells, no whistles. Just folks dealing with stuff. Sometimes that's enough. ☕