Paula Rodríguez Polanco

The feline and weary body of a young girl is surrounded by Christian symbols. Crosses, Sulpician images, miniature altars lose their religious meaning to become merely decorative items. Mixed with plastic toys and photographs, they compose secular still lives. A church service is observed surreptitiously through a ground-floor window, like some strange custom, only to be interrupted by the sound of a moped backfiring, inviting the girl to take flight. This religious setting, often filmed in countershot to the beautiful faces of three teenagers, then gives way to wide shots of the luxuriant nature they are bathed in. Their nimble, young bodies find a perfect refuge in the comfortable branches of a mango tree. But at this age, the thirst for thrills cannot be restricted to a familiar setting. The trio hits the road. Without bothering with narrative dross, Heliconia offers a sensual road-trip and gorgeous tableaux vivants that do justice to film as a medium.

The feline and weary body of a young girl is surrounded by Christian symbols. Crosses, Sulpician images, miniature altars lose their religious meaning to become merely decorative items. Mixed with plastic toys and photographs, they compose secular still lives. A church service is observed surreptitiously through a ground-floor window, like some strange custom, only to be interrupted by the sound of a moped backfiring, inviting the girl to take flight. This religious setting, often filmed in countershot to the beautiful faces of three teenagers, then gives way to wide shots of the luxuriant nature they are bathed in. Their nimble, young bodies find a perfect refuge in the comfortable branches of a mango tree. But at this age, the thirst for thrills cannot be restricted to a familiar setting. The trio hits the road. Without bothering with narrative dross, Heliconia offers a sensual road-trip and gorgeous tableaux vivants that do justice to film as a medium.