Christopher Zalla’s first feature imagines an act of powerful identity theft.
“Sangre de Mi Sangre (Blood of My Blood)” follows immigrants Juan and Pedro as they meet on a truck transporting them illegally into the United States.
En route, Pedro shares tamales with Juan. Later Juan holds Pedro’s head when he gets sick.
Pedro tells Juan why he’s making the illicit trek: to meet the father who doesn’t know he exists. Before dying, his mother told him that his father, Diego, a well-off restaurant owner, would greet him with love.
Pedro carries an address, a sealed note of introduction and hope of a better life than the one he has in Puebla.
Juan recounts a story about a deep scar on his chest. That story, too, has to do with a father. One of Juan’s few possessions is the knife that carved the wound.
They are two young men heading from the dire toward the unknown. How drastic Juan’s straits were becoming was hinted at in a kinetic opening chase sequence in Mexico.
As the truck pulls into New York, Pedro discovers his in-transit friend has stolen his money, his letter and his story.
Originally titled “Padre Nuestro” or “Our Father,” Zalla’s movie won the Grand Jury Prize at the 2007 Sundance Film Festival.
The movie toggles between the journeys of the two. Hungry, penniless, Pedro tries to recall details that might unite him with his father. Meanwhile, Juan tries to win over Diego with the info he stole. But he’s missing an object that could have sealed the deal.
Jesus Ochoa does tough, touching work as Diego. Thick and gruff, solitary and prickly, he is not the restaurateur promised but one of the many immigrants who populate the kitchens of New York City eateries, upscale and otherwise. He hardly seems vulnerable to Juan’s schemes.
While Juan tries to convince a suspicious Diego, Pedro leans on unreliable, manipulative Magda (Paola Mendoza), a drug addict who lives just barely off the streets in a dank squat.
Armando Hernandez and Jorge Adrian Espindola do sharp turns as Juan and Pedro. Each is expected to counter what we think we know of their personalities.
Espindola’s Pedro has more resolve than his softness suggests. Hernandez’ Juan is not the sociopath he seems to be, though Zalla makes clear in his directors’ notes that he believes Hernandez’s character is more sympathetic and morally ambiguous than you might.
For all its urban texture, Zalla has crafted a tale almost too structured. “Sangre de Mi Sangre” brims with exchanges that seem right for two-character, off-Broadway plays. In a film shot by Igor Martinovic with agile awareness of its urbanscape, these moments feel static. But these are minor complaints leveled at a strong debut feature.
After Sundance, “Sangre de Mi Sangre” screened at New York’s Museum of Modern Art-Lincoln Center series “New Directors/New Films” for good reason.
Zalla may have provided his characters with a overly constructed tragedy, but his eye for city life and his seeming gift with actors promises astute, generous work to come.
“Sangre de Mi Sangre (Blood of My Blood).”
Not Rated. 1 hour, 51 minutes. Written and directed by Christopher Zalla; photography by Igor Martinovic; starring Armando Hernandez, Jorge Adrian Espindola, Jesus Ochoa, Paola Mendoza. Opens today at Neighborhood Flix
