Carajita means “brat” or “little bitch” in Caribbean Spanish, and we soon identify the brattish Sara (Cecile Van Welie) as the inspiration for the title. Sara is a pampered, immature white teenager, focused on having fun and involving her boyfriend in sexual trysts in the back of her car. She has a stronger bond with her Black nanny than with her own distant mother, who is perennially primping for parties with the local elite, and her corrupt father, busy courting local politicians to help advance his business deals. The family treats the nanny as one of their own until circumstances force a reckoning, and the veneer of peaceful coexistence is peeled off, step by step. It’s a complex plot, one that reveals the predetermined fate of those born into the rigid social hierarchies of the Dominican Republic (which shares the island of Hispaniola with Haiti and refuses to grant citizenship to Haitian immigrants). Co-directed by Argentinean Silvina Schnicer and Spaniard Ulises Porra Guardiola, Carajita is screening at the Munich Film Festival after receiving four awards at the Guadalajara film festival for Best Iberoamerican Film, Best Director, Best Cinematography and the Best Actress nod to Magnolia Núñez.
Earlier Dominican films have explored issues of class and exploitation in Sand dollars (Dólares de Arena, 2015), where Geraldine Chaplin plays a lesbian tourist who falls in love with a local Black girl. Other films set in the D.R. have been adaptations of novels by Nobel prizewinner Mario Vargas Llosa and Dominican author Julia Alvarez and are spoken in English with international actors like Isabella Rossellini (The Feast of the Goat, 2005) and Salma Hayek and Edward James Olmos (In The Time of the Butterflies, 2001). So it’s a welcome development that Carajita uses local actors and the Spanish language to convey a more realistic feel and ambiance to the story. The creation of DG Cine, a state institute that supports local filmmaking, is an encouraging development that will hopefully yield more content and nurture diverse talent.
Here Núñez excels as Yarisa, the family nanny as well as the confidante and best friend of Sara, who heaps affection on her. In the early scenes, we are lulled into believing that maids can become friends of the family, but we are soon jolted awake from that pipe dream when loyalties are put to the test. It turns out that Yarisa has a biological daughter, who is raised by relatives while Yarisa follows her employers abroad. Mallory, the neglected Black daughter (Adelanny Padilla), appears as a deus ex machina who dispels any illusion of solidarity across the social and economic class divide; she demands affection from her mother and resents Sara, who has usurped her role. First-time local actress Padilla is convincing in her ambivalence, as she is pulled into the social circles of Sara and her hapless brother Alvaro (an underdeveloped character) and joins them at a wild party, which sets the tragedy in motion.
Cinematographer Ivan Gierasinchuk, who also worked on the directors’ first feature Tigre (2017), carefully choreographs each scene, often shooting at night and sometimes withholding information out of the frame to make us speculate about what’s going on outside our line of vision. He also hints at the supernatural when some stray goats stare directly at the camera, spooking the characters like a premonition.
Núñez’s Yarisa is especially moving as the tormented nanny in an award-winning, tour de force performance. Although the filmmakers’ preference for extreme close-ups detracts from the emotional impact of some crucial scenes, Núñez nevertheless shines through in a credible, sensitive performance that brings about a final catharsis. In a mute and effective epilogue, we see that the eerie goats have the last symbolic victory over the shattered lives of the protagonists.
The sets also illustrate class differences, as the wealthy enjoy a seafront villa with minimalist décor (barring decorative monkeys on the wallpaper) in contrast to the busy, cramped quarters of the Black families when they perform African religious rituals to honor the dead. The elite’s leisure time involves sexually charged scenes aboard a yacht, where the children are seen as inconvenient witnesses and ordered to leave.
Music and sound are used sparingly, to create mood and mystery, as when goats block a dusty road or reappear as a mask used to frighten partygoers. But it becomes too obvious when a song belts out “Life Is Worth Nothing,” following the hit and run accident that brings a cathartic end to the illusion of class collaboration.
Directors: Silvina Schnicer and Ulises Porra Guardiola
Screenplay: Ulla Prida, Silvina Schnicer and Ulises Porra Guardiola
Cast: Magnolia Núñez, Cecile van Welie, Adelanny Padilla
Producers: Alexandra Guerrero, Ulla Prida
Cinematography: Ivan Gierasinchuk, Sergio Armstrong
Editing: Ulises Porra Guardiola, Delfina Castagnino
Music: Andrés Rodriguez
Sound: Nahuel Palenque, Franklin Hernández
Production companies: Wooden Boat Films (Dominican Republic), Púcara Cine (Argentina)
World sales: Bendita Films Sales (Spain)
Venue: Munich 2022 Film Festival
In Spanish
89 minutes
