One day five women from Quito, friends in their teens, decide to get back together after fourteen years. Helena is waiting for her second child, Marina lives the ups and downs of infidelity, Diana, an early widow, shares her loneliness with her 15 year old daughter and Tamara has not abandoned the random life of nightclubs, men and drugs. The purpose of their get-together is to visit their old classmate, Alejandra, who is consumed by an illness.
As Cotopaxi spews ash, issuing an eerie penumbra over Quito, a young woman confronts dormant familial conflicts. Desperate for a place to store her things as volcanic disaster looms, Caridad turns to her long-estranged father Galo for help. Galo abandoned Caridad’s mother long ago and is eager to make amends, but questions concerning the nature of his transgressions linger, straining communication between father and daughter and casting grave doubts over the possibility of reconciliation.
Being different is no easy task. And when the difference is so visible, like albinism, or so burdensome, like a heart condition, things get harder. Albino introvert Tito must travel from Panama to Costa Rica to pick up his sick father. Not having spoken to his father in years, their reunion is less than desired. César has always lived on his own terms and would rather deal with his weakness alone. And Tito would rather not deal with anyone. So, the ride back to Panama is a bit heated. They might kill each other but not without first confronting their anxieties and the reasons for the distance kept between them for so long
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Alexandra Cuesta cites eternal wanderer Henri Michaux as one of the inspirations for her first feature. It’s curious, then, that the opening sequence of Territorio (the first film Cuesta shot in her native Ecuador) shows us a boat heading for the shore. It is very likely that, to Cuesta, the image of water hides the same connotation than it does to the author of “The Sea of Breasts”: returning home, being sheltered in the mother’s womb. Without detouring from the formal approaches of her previous work, Cuesta traces a journey that crosses the country from north to south, drawing a human cartography in which the aim is to achieve an impossible balance between the foreign traveler’s gaze and the earnest familiarity of those who return home temporarily.
