Can’t we all be free Under The Same Sun?

Historical fictions breathe the stories of the old world. The ability to tell a story of how something might have come to be, a story which likely has been told for centuries is a wonder to behold. We’ve been telling stories forever, we’ve been writing them for a blip in that time, and we’ve been filming them for the tiniest fraction of that blip — leaving an infinite amount of time to film stories we’ve never seen.

Spanish writer/director Ulises Porra’s Under The Same Sun is one such historical fiction that tells a beautiful story of how something came to be, with an answer to a question I’ve never thought of before in my life: How did silk production reach the Americas?

The film, which had its world premiere at the Toronto International Film Festival this week, weaves this story together with a complex view of the relationship between pre-independent Dominican Republic and Post-Revolution Haiti. The result is a beautiful critique of the class and colonial perspectives of what it means to be free.

Set in 1819 in Hispaniola and filmed entirely in the modern day Dominican Republic, the film’s protagonist is a Spanish “explorer” by the name of Lázaro (David Castillo). He is tasked with continuing his late father’s mission of introducing silk production to the island, but struggles to embody the determination and confidence of his late father’s legacy — of which he is consistently reminded he falls short.

He brings along his companion Mei (Valentina Shen Wu), a master silk-maker, and her multiple crates of silkworms. Mei positions herself as a no-nonsense worker, understanding what she is here to do and determined to ensure she succeeds. The film depicts the racial class structure of the time that places her on the lower end of the class hierarchy — but she stands her ground, and demands the amount of respect she is owed. Wu’s debut performance is scene-stealing and commands emotion in stillness with remarkable care.

Joining the foreign pair by way of squatting in Lázaro’s house is Baptiste (Jean Jean), a Haitian army deserter. The film opens on a scene of Baptiste finding glasses after falling from a cliff and suffering a leg injury. These glasses become the catalyst for Baptiste’s journey seen in the film.

Within the journey of silk production is a mesmerizing story of class, the robbery of capitalism, and the freedom that exists outside these two concepts.

Jean Jean’s Baptiste is a highlight performance, fully embodying a free man — not paying any mind to the racial class structure that exists on the Spanish-conquered half of what truly feels like his island. He walks as a free person, he reads as a free person, he builds as a free person and he loves as a free person.

But Lazáro, a tepid white Spaniard in the half of the island his countrymen have thoroughly colonized, paradoxically struggles to feel free. Other Spaniards scoff at his lackluster ability to command, and demand he act his place in their class society. Even Mei ridicules how Lazáro doesn’t demand the bed in his father’s cabin from Baptiste, instead relegating himself to the floor with Mei.

The truth is, despite his elevated status, Lazáro is a weak, pathetic man who yearns for the freedom that comes so naturally to Baptiste, who has the lowest status of them all. 

The goal of producing three skeins of silk seems impossible given Lazáro’s ineptitude. All he has is this goal, not the skill of a labourer, and not the passion of someone free to do what he wants. But Mei’s stern nature with Baptiste’s relentless determination makes a shred of Lazáro’s dream come true. 

But the closer Lazáro gets to completing his mission, the more jealous he gets of Baptiste and the freedom that exudes so naturally from him — a flaw that jeopardizes all the three have worked for.

Woven between the threads of this epic story of freedom and stellar performances from the trio are incredibly gorgeous shots of the island, impressive yet eerie sound design and an intense spatial awareness. The finished product is both stunning to look at and completely captivating. Several scenes are interspliced with sharp cuts to black establishing greater tension, and smaller close up shots of the silkworms squirming around. Ulises Porra’s vision is completely clear. He manages to create such an anxiety around the skeins being completed that the rising interpersonal tensions feel cathartic. 

Together, the threads of silk, class and the struggle for freedom create a beautiful tapestry of the island, and all the beauty trapped within.