From the beginning, It Would be Night in Caracas feels very immediate, while at the same time, feeling like a story set in another time. This is true even for me, someone with family in Caracas, who has heard stories of the unrest in Venezuela for the last two decades. For someone without my personal knowledge, the movie might as well be fictional. But this is the reality of Venezuela, and though it is just a glimpse, it’s a very powerful one.
The film follows Adelaida (Natalia Reyes), who, after returning home after burying her mother, finds it has been seized by a militia led by Mariscala (Sheila Monterola). In the aftermath, Adelaida must take refuge in a different apartment alongside Santiago (Moisés Angola), and while the two hide to survive, they will try to find some common ground while the city seemingly crumbles around them.
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Marité Ugás and Mariana Rondón’s film is unflinching in its desire to portray a truth that a lot of people outside of Venezuela aren’t familiar with, and yet very deliberate in the way it creates characters that feel real, not just in this particular situation, but in general. The truth of moments like this one, of revolution and social unrest, is that they’re not about just one type of people, and that people will sometimes find themselves making decisions they never thought they would, only to survive.
The word humanity takes on a different shape in a movie like this one, and though war movies have become very common in recent years, there’s something about It Would Be Night in Caracas that makes it stand apart. This isn’t a war movie, not really, even though outside of the apartment where Adelaida and Santiago are hiding, there’s a war going on. One that still hasn’t ended. One that might not end anytime soon.
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Perhaps it’s this reality that gives It Would Be Night in Caracas the weight it carries. What are civil rights? How do we assert them, demand them, fight for them in a city where there is no rule of law and no one is interested in common decency? How do normal people survive—much less live—in a place where it feels like fear and hopelessness are the only valid emotions?
It Would Be Night in Caracas has no real answers, just as the reality of Caracas, of Venezuela, seems to have no real solution right now. But the questions are not just valid, they’re necessary. What can we do? Not just to solve the situation, but to bring hope and peace to people who have asked for nothing more than to be allowed to live in their own country. I don’t know, but one thing is for sure: I won’t be able to stop thinking about this question for a very long time.
It Would Be Night in Caracas screened at the Toronto International Film Festival.
