MARIA FULL OF HEROIN

To make a film that is both entertaining and informative is a loaded
proposition: The tendency to gravitate toward one extreme at the
expense of the other often overwhelms filmmakers and results in a film
that fails in both respects. The work of first-time writer/director
Joshua Marston, Maria Full of Grace (Maria, llena eres de gracia) is a
film that manages this balancing act remarkably well.

The film tells the story of Maria, a headstrong Columbian girl who
quits her job at a flower factory only to learn, days later, that she
is pregnant. Abandoned by her boyfriend and looking for a way to
support both herself and her family, Maria agrees to act as a mule
moving heroin into the United States for a local cartel. Along with
several other young women, including Blanca, Maria's friend from the
factory, and Lucy, an experienced carrier, Maria makes the trip to New
York City with the expected complications occurring on their arrival.
The women turn to members of the local Columbian community for
assistance and to find a way back to their homeland.

The acting is remarkable despite-or possibly due to-the fact that most
of the roles went to actors with little or no acting experience. The
actors make simple, natural choices in their performances, blurring
the line between reality and fiction. The net effect is a degree of
authenticity rarely found in many larger, more polished Hollywood
productions.

This line is further blurred by the inclusion of Orlando Tobon in the
role of Don Fernando, a man who befriends Maria and Blanca on their
U.S. arrival. Tobon, a leader in the New York Colombian community, has
helped raise money and repatriate the bodies of hundreds of drug mules
who have died while smuggling drugs. Initially working as just an
advisor to Marston, Tobon was written into the film: Fernando's advice
and assistance to Maria and Blanca mirrors Tobon's real-life activities.

Maria's cinematography subtly underscores and enhances the drama and
onscreen action without becoming obtrusive. Nowhere is this precision
more apparent than during the plane scene, when the mules try to
maintain their composure while struggling against their doubts and
fears. Tight camerawork and a washed-out color scheme dominate the
film's cinematography. These effects create an unbearable sense of
claustrophobia and unease, allowing the audience to participate in the
nerve-wracking waiting game to which the carriers are subjected.

Music is used sparingly: Often no more than a few notes or low drones
underscore the sense of dread and apprehension onscreen. As the film
progresses, scenes that would normally be loaded with background or
soundtrack music are conspicuously silent. Instead of canned and cued
music used to goad the audience into an emotional response, all we are
left with are lingering shots of the characters' onscreen struggles.

This overall technique makes for an almost documentary-like approach:
The audience watches a fictionalized account of drug-smuggling, but it
could just as well be the real thing. Exhaustively researched by
Marston before filming, Maria has been praised for its attention to
detail in scenes shot in both Ecuador (Columbia was too politically
unstable) and New York, as well as for its evident understanding of
Columbian culture and society.

The current of social commentary running through the film stays enough
below the surface that it never dominates. The audience is meant to
identify with Maria and her peers, as much victims of the drug wars as
those destroyed by drug abuse. Primarily, the film humanizes the
people involved in drug smuggling. Marston shows that Marias and
Blancas exist in the real world as much as caricatures like Tony Montana.

Alternately sad and uplifting, Maria Full of Grace is a powerful
statement in the guise of an excellent film. One in a spate of recent
films, such as City of God and Dirty Pretty Things, to frame
narratives around the central theme of an overlooked social problem
and end as beautiful, tragic and eye-opening films.