MEXICO CITY (Proceso).- Recently released on Netflix, Ernesto Contreras’s film tells the story of Ikal (Kaarlo Isaacs), an 11-year-old boy who is still illiterate because his father, a railway worker, constantly changes locations; For the first time he begins to attend a school on a regular basis under the support of a teacher (Adriana Barraza), deeply committed to the training and education of his students. The classroom is a train car, where the boy discovers friendship and the harsh things in life with a group of boys, plus a dog, Quetzal, a character in his own right.
Adapted from the novel of the same name by the Spanish Ángeles Doñate – herself involved in the issue of education – El último vagón (Mexico, 2022) is well grafted onto Mexican history and culture; the impact on the life of the communities, the economic contrast with the rich landowners, the social injustice, the constant uprooting of the workers and their families, and the deficiencies in the schooling of the children. Adriana Barraza manages to embody the archetype of the authentic, timeless pedagogue and embedded, at the same time, in a historical context.
A certain anachronism of the film works on two levels, that of the educational system whose lack of resources is compensated by the enthusiasm and commitment of the educators, and the time gap on which the shadow of Don Porfirio hangs, the development of railways, own farm and prison. But the issue of social injustice suffered by workers and their families remains somewhat in the background, because the true antagonist is the decree of a supposed modernization of schools: a motorcycle inspector (Memo Villegas) travels through the communities to announce the closure of them, without it seeming clear what the alternative is and even less how the effort and talent of the anonymous heroes of education will be used.
You have to put a lot of trust in the talent of Ernesto Contreras to be encouraged to start watching The last wagon that announces itself with a message (to the teacher with love), good feelings, children and even a dog; the risk is pure marshmallow, but the director of Párpados azules (2007) knows how to impregnate the environment in which his characters exist with emotions, explores the affective range of each of them (because he knows his actors), and makes them feel how they link their affections with each other; everything in such a way that even a melodramatic situation moves.
As if nostalgia were the natural element of the director of Sueño en otro idioma (2017), staging and camera movements simultaneously establish the present of the action and the past of what was; A key example, the photograph of the teacher and her group of her students, important in the twist of the story, which establishes the look of a child who knows that things are lost; school and housing inside a train car evoke poverty along with strength to adapt and survive. Even the sequences, somewhat rushed at the beginning because the director wants his audience to have a clear view of the place, are revealed as metaphors for time and life that passes, such as the recurring image of the train in Ozu’s cinema.
