Txotxongolia (2023)

-Written by Kyle Bain.

A lonely female marionette is seen locked inside a room, struggling to deal with the hardships of her confined and monotonous life. She often lies motionless on the floor. Txotxongiloa follows this tragic figure. Life has not been kind; life will never be kind. 

A slow-paced stop-motion short film, Txotxongiloa employs a series of artistic techniques that are meant to transport viewers to a world that is certainly different from our own, while retaining some level of accessibility in terms of its aesthetic. The wooden marionette mirrors one that might be seen in the real world, and the needle-felted characters that juxtapose the hardened exterior of the aforementioned wooden puppet present a more sophisticated depth that anchors the film’s ability to resonate with viewers. Txotxongiloa using a variety of techniques widens its scope, an absolute necessity if Writer-Director Sonia Estévez wants her film to find success. While the wooden figure represents the various hardships of life, the decision to include needle-felted characters offers a glimpse into a world of supposed bodily autonomy—one that isn’t all that it initially appears. 

The animation plays a pivotal role in viewers being able to understand and appreciate the purpose of Estévez’s Txotxongiloa; however, the subtlety present in the narrative is what ultimately allows the messages present in the film to remain honest and accessible. Long, drawn-out scenes make little sense in the grand scheme of their existence—however, intentionally fracturing the fluidity of those scenes (shifting the focus between the different types of animation) allows the narrative to develop and deepen. Estévez is sure to mix things up throughout her production. This welcomes viewers from different walks of life and keeps Txotxongiloa from becoming stagnant or unappealing. 

Bodily autonomy is just one of the many social issues discussed in Txotxongiloa. The short film pulls information from a multitude of directions, questioning the former, while also touching on the physical and mental struggles that come with the overuse of social media. From the opening seconds of this ten-minute short film, viewers are made aware that there’s more to this aesthetically gripping narrative. Txotxongiloa is a socially aware film that never oversteps, but remains nestled within itself—almost begging to get out, but more so begging viewers to look within. The opportunity for understanding is strong with Txotxongiloa, as it frequently reminds viewers that there’s often more than meets the eye. 

I suppose my only critique of Txotxongiloa is the frequent tonal shifts. I applaud Estevez’s ability to fit far more content into this short film than she should have been able to, but there are moments that the shift in tone is far too abrupt. It sometimes takes viewers a second or two to adjust and dive back in. While that may not seem like much of an issue, within the scope of a film that only runs for ten minutes, that time can feel like an eternity. There were a few times, while watching Txotxongiloa, when I was forced to rewind the film ten seconds or so; if someone doesn’t have that luxury, it may cause the mystique to crumble, hurting the film and its ability to reach its audience. 

My one issue with Txotxongiloa has the potential to be massive in the grand scheme of this production, though I would imagine that most viewers have the wherewithal to understand and appreciate the short film in spite of its flaw. Txotxongiloa is gorgeous, powerful, and groundbreaking in some ways. While I’ve seen plenty of short films capable of extending beyond their short runtime, Txotxongiloa is a reminder of the potential of filmmaking and the gravity of what this art form means to the world. 

Directed by Sonia Estévez. 

Written by Sonia Estévez & Javier Fernández Landaluce. 

8.5/10 = WORTH RENTING OR BUYING