Review: RITA is a Gorgeously Grim Fairy Tale About True Events

Jayro Bustamante follows 2019's critically acclaimed Criterion release La Llorona with another captivating Guatemalan exposé in Shudder's Rita. Where La Llorona speaks volumes about ruthless genocidal war crimes, Rita mirrors Issa López's outstanding Tigers Are Not Afraid as a heartbreaking juvenile fairy tale. Bustamante fictionalizes the events of Guatemala's tragic 2017 orphanage fire through fantastical illustrations that empower the voiceless. Forty-one girls died locked inside their Virgen de la Asunción dorm, in a government-run shelter, and Bustamante beautifully honors their rebellious spirits through Rita's powerful retelling. A preservation of history on recaptured terms, a spark that combats blanketed darkness.

Giuliana Santa Cruz stars as Rita, a 13-year-old survivor of an abusive father whose reward is being sent to a state-run home for parentless children. Rita observes her surroundings, which she describes as a prison filled with "super-powered" girls. There are fairies, angels, and other types who swear to escape the "witches and trolls" that run the institution. Angels like Gladys (Glendy Asturias Rucal), Sulmi (Ángela Joana Quevedo), and Bebé (Alejandra Vásquez Carrillo) teach Rita the ropes and warn who to avoid. The girls live under oppression and fear but refuse to back down — especially with tales of an unknown savior to liberate their ranks.

Bustamante's approach is tender but tough-skinned, handsome but barbaric. Rita is a fantastical fable that equates Guatemalan government employees to ogres and doesn't shy away from the nation’s horrific treatment of adolescent girls, especially those preyed upon by pedophile parents or guards in positions of power. There's shared DNA between Rita and Tigers Are Not Afraid in how both visions confront nationalistic despicableness through whimsical means, leaning into childhood perspectives that accentuate the mindsets of each film's young protagonists. Rita's journey is as agonizing as it is fiercely antagonistic, shining a light on mistreatment and misogyny gone unchecked. You're in for a heavy watch lifted by artistry, but not in any pandering way that pads impact.

Cinematographer Inti Briones turns a heavily guarded orphanage into a battle-torn land of make-believe. Production design paired with Briones' immaculate framing paints Rita's feather-clad gang as angelic icons, symbols of failed innocents shot under imaginary thunderclouds that appear in their dormitory. Bustamante's rewrite is a Grimm fable that leans into visual storytelling, from the black-veiled "Stars" clan — who represent morbid attributes — to the sequences of Rita's cohorts "flying" as if their wings grant them abilities. There's a common ground between fantasy and reality that's kept in check yet allowed to express surrealism that soothes the story's relentless stings.

Cruz and her underage co-stars are unflappable fighters who wage war in cafeterias or scamper through woodlands away from their protected abusers. Bustamante asks the world of these girls and gets maturity beyond their years in return, especially Cruz, playing a barely-teen victim who leads a small-scale rebellion. Adult actors like Ernesto Molina Samperio as disgusting shelter guard William are asked to be unspeakable villains, but their repulsive behaviors enhance the infuration and despair behind Rita's attributes. Behind Rita's wounded determination is a shattered childhood; La Terca's (André Sebastián Aldana) anarchistic leadership shields youthful paranoias, desperate to avoid more government-sanctioned misconduct. 

It's a complicated film to execute because emotional weights are hoisted by tiny children's arms. Still, they're superheroes in their roles — a profound statement made to honor those Guatemalan orphans who needlessly died.

Rita is an achingly devastating historical reinterpretation born from a fire in Bustamante's belly. The events it's based upon should turn you blood-red in anger, but the movie itself inspires civilian uprisings with an intrepid stance. It's a story of rage, defiance, eloquence, and pixie dust that demolishes moral boundaries. Rita amplifies the horrors in unchecked actualities, as Bustamante once again uses genre trappings to highlight abhorrent Guatemalan normalities kept from public perception. Even more so, Rita is a testament to the silenced girls stolen from this world in 2017, in hopes their rallying cries will inspire a new generation to fight back against anyone who treats women with the same shameless disrespect as, well, Donald Trump’s new cabinet committee. 

As Rita says, "The story doesn't end here" — a harrowing relevance that reverberates to the soul of countries plagued by "Your Body, My Choice" chuds who are rotten core. It’s not a message to waste or ignore. Not now, not ever.

Movie Score: 4/5