Tina Kakadelis
At some point a child learns that there are two versions of an event: what is true and what is a lie. At that time in a kid’s life, there’s no Venn diagram connecting the two. There is simply what happened and what didn’t. Schoolyard fights, missing homework, classroom disruptions, all can be reduced to true and false. As people get older, that Venn diagram begins to appear. Truth and lies are more intertwined than anyone would want them to be. Colombian filmmaker Melissa Saavedra Gil’s Toronto International Film Festival-premiering debut, Like Magic, is a personal exploration of a search for the truth of an event that fundamentally shaped her entire existence.
In 1991, Saavedra Gil’s parents died when she was a little girl. For much of her life, she was led to believe their deaths were the result of a car accident. Saavedra Gil left her hometown of Cali, Colombia, but in making this documentary, she has decided to return in an attempt to find answers about her parents’ deaths. Like Magic is not a straightforward, traditional work of non-fiction. It consists of personal testimony, archival footage, and contemporary filming, and tries to answer the question that has plagued her life while taking a look at Cali as a city.
As Saavedra Gil says in the opening narration, “Cali is a magical place, but it’s also a dangerous one.” Her first comments upon returning to the city are about how much has changed and how she’s also different from who she was when she lived there. As concrete and solid as we believe cities to be, they are flexible and ever-morphing. Demographics change, shops disappear, and new buildings are erected. Saavedra Gil is fascinated by the contradictions of the place she came of age in. Its beauty and magic are in complete contrast to the threat of violence that marked her adolescence, yet both things are true. Magic can be dangerous, and violence can be mythical, and somehow humans have to figure out which is which.
The more Saavedra Gil looks into the deaths of her parents, the more she learns that the truth she was given more than likely has some cracks in it. She ponders, “How different is it to die than to be murdered?” The end result of death is the same in both scenarios, but there’s a unique weight when the cause of death is deemed purposeful. When someone else actively chooses to end the life of another. As much as we all seek truth, to finally gaze upon it is to reopen the wound and dig deeper. That’s how we heal, though. First, the wound must be seen and flushed out clean. Only then can true healing begin.
Like Magic has an ethereal quality to its storytelling. It’s lyrically captured, the camera floating through the air of Cali, lingering on subjects wearing Halloween masks. Magic vs. danger, the recurring friction of Like Magic, is on display once again. If there was a subgenre of documentary that could be described as a “visual poem,” Like Magic would be a shining example. It’s meandering, but never lost. Lilting and contemplative while recognizing that truth, to a certain extent, will always remain elusive.
Like Magic begins as Saavedra Gil’s personal journey into a painful, life-changing experience, but along the way, she takes stock of her city. She recognizes how the violence and the magic are a result of corruption by some who chase wealth without concern for the people around them. This disconnect is not unique to Cali. It’s happening on a global scale. The rich are getting richer at the expense of the people working on the front lines. Like Magic is a quest for truth in a world where facts are often worth little in the way of currency.
