In a small Mexican town, nestled in the mountains, the very real threat from drug cartels and human trafficking greatly impacts the lives of all people.  Most immediate are the young girls that live in the town who wear boyish clothes, cut their hair short, and have designated areas to hide whenever someone from the cartels stops by their homes unannounced.  Prayers for the Stolen is a day-in-the-life film following a group of these young girls as they navigate the general trials of growing up in addition to this oppressive and dangerous environment.   

With roots in documentary filmmaking as well as cinematography, director Tatiana Huezo wrote the script for the drama which was liberally based on Jennifer Clement’s novel of the same name.  Huezo draws on her experience as a documentarian and allows the camera to stay incredibly still and bear witness to the lives unfolding on screen, which, while scripted, do not feel at all like things of fantasy.  While there are no fancy camera tricks at play, Huezo keeps the 110-minute film visually interesting by her creative framing of the actresses and her eyes for capturing the inherent beauty of the natural landscapes. 

Prayers for the Stolen is not the first film to broach the topic of the effects on children growing up in impoverished conditions.  Pixote (1981) focuses on the police-led exploitation of homeless and delinquent youth in Brazil.  Gomorrah (2008) shows the crippling influence of a gang war on the people of Naples.  Huezo’s film, however, in its almost exclusive focus on females, is more closely aligned with The Florida Project (2017) which also highlights the relationship of mother and daughter in an oppressive environment.  The biggest difference between the two is that the children in The Florida Project can fall into their imagination and escape the harsh realities of their lives with the benefit of their young age as they do not fully grasp everything that is going on around them.  Prayers for the Stolen also shows some moments of joyous bliss as the girls play dress-up and other imaginative games, but we see them also grow and mature in their understanding of the world they live in and the dangers that lurk. Even when they are happy, there is a heavy air that surrounds them. 

At its core, the film revolves around the group of girls and pulls its focus from Ana (Ana Cristina Ordóñez González).  She lives with her mother, Rita (Mayra Batalla), a woman who is doing her best to ensure her daughter’s survival.  There is a promise of money to be sent from her husband at work in America, but it never comes.  After endless hours in the poppy fields where stories of missing families and discovered bodies are shared in hushed voices the town gathers together before dark on the hillside with their phones in a desperate attempt to contact their loved ones – for money, for news, or just for the sound of their voice – yet few calls go through to the other line.  Back at home, Ana and Rita sit together in silence – always listening for cars approaching – and when she finally breaks down from the stress of it all, it is a truly affecting scene.  She is up against the impossible and it only gets more difficult as Ana continues through puberty and eventually experiences her first period which opens up a whole new set of risks for her daughter.  Ana’s very nature – her femininity – has become an enemy to her survival.  

The film’s structure does contain a few roadblocks – the least of which are the remarkably clear and coherently translated subtitles nor is it an issue of accessibility to the Oscar-hopeful title from Mexico as it is streaming on Netflix.  It lies in the underwritten, yet not sparse, script which places a huge burden on the audience to infer many of the details about the danger facing the girls.  While the film is slow to reveal itself, the camera moves sporadically from scene to scene.  Just as Huezo does not grant the audience too much exposition at the start of a scene, as soon as she has captured what she wants, we briskly cut away to the next moment in Ana’s daily life resulting in a film that is almost too lean.  

There are a few striking moments, however, when Huezo allows the camera to linger and breaks the in-and-out efficiency.  One such scene is in the latter half where Ana describes a self-portrait she made of herself with items she found around the house.  The tenderness and respect afforded to Ana never wane (now portrayed by Marya Membreño), but the longer the camera remains tight on the girl, the more it feels like we are reading through the pages of her diary.  This is the closest she has ever come to being able to freely represent and express herself – tacks, some wire, a scorpion in a bottle – as her hair must always be cropped short and the simplest of cosmetics such as lipstick is all but forbidden to her.     

The biggest success of the film is the winning chemistry between the trio at the heart of the film: Ana, Maria (Blanca Itzel Pérez, Giselle Barrera Sánchez), and Paula (Camila Gaal, Alejandra Camacho).  Many of them hold this film as their first credit, yet Huezo managed to tease out a naturalistic performance that does not contain the same fear of the camera which plagues the performances of many young and emerging talent. Through all the terrible things that have happened to the community, the girls always have each other, and they are looking out for one another.  But their friendship is not all just a byproduct of their fight for survival.  Huezo also shows them just being girls as they begin to notice their male companions differently, tease each other about crushes on their teacher, and play in the river together.  To watch them grow up and still continue some of their same games together is really heartwarming.  In one such game, they try to sync up their thoughts by holding up the same number of fingers or matching another’s silly face, and not only are these moments an incredible relief from the horrors the abound them, but it shows that they all have a strong understanding of the shared reality together, too. 

For her narrative debut, Huezo delivers a wonderful portrait of strength and resilience.  While her characters are fictitious, there is still a lot of truth in the story which Prayers for the Stolen delivers.  It is brutal and uncomfortable at times, but it gives a voice to the voiceless.  At first glance, the title appears to be offering prayers for the lives of those taken by the cartels and the traffickers, but as Huezo continues to shed light on the town, we realize the prayers are also for those who continue to survive yet have had so much of their lives taken away from them.  Ultimately, it is prayers for the lives that could have been, should have been, but have been stifled and cut short by the growing grip of evil on their community.