At first I thought the sound editing was off-balanced. Vague conversations from background characters, often faceless and without any discernible dialogue, would overpower certain scenes of Manco Cápac at the disservice of our protagonist, Elisban. For example, as Elisban approaches a restaurant bar to ask for work, nearby American tourists chat over brunch and both his words and his humanity fades to the background. I found it bizarre and unfortunate that such a mistake could have been made in editing and, even worse, been part of the final cut. However, as the film unfolded I realized this at-first bizarre feature of the film was actually a crucial component of its identity.
Manco Cápac is a Peruvian drama film focused on Elisban’s journey, an orphan of young adulthood who has traveled to the city of Puno, a city nestled along the western cusp of Lake Titicaca. He arrived by bus from Tacna, a town near the Chilean border, with two solas (fifty cents USD) to his name. Elisban has been promised work from his friend Hermogenes, but when he navigates his way by foot to the address he had been given, Hermogenes is not to be found. “This is not his place,” an old woman shouts from the window, “he is just a tenant.” When Elisban asks if he can wait, the woman says it may be a week before his return from La Paz. In an instant, Elisban truly is orphaned: no parents and no friends. He is in a city, hours away from his own, without any connection or contacts. All he has are the clothes on his back, a drawstring bag, and the two solas in his pocket. Those two solas can barely purchase soup, much less a long bus ride back to the familiarity of Tacna.
Much of the film follows Elisban in his attempt to find work and survive in an unfamiliar city where he generally is viewed as a vagrant. His shoes are worn, clothes tattered, and he cleanses his face and shapes his hair in the public fountains. The contempt people have for him, due to his perceived predicament, is overwhelming. When offering his last remaining sole for food (as he spent one in a failed attempt to reach Hermogenes by phone), two women wave him off. The third however, full of maternal sympathy, pours him a soup in exchange for the sole. She fleshes out his story and why he left Tacna and why he cannot return. She is the first, and possibly only, person to see his humanity. Clearly, he is drawn to her, her maternal warmth, and the safe haven her conversation offers him.
Elisban falters through many of his jobs, due to no fault of his own. When he fixes a vending bike for a woman, she will allow him to keep it for a discounted, yet out of reach, price. A man, in need of a trench dug around his property, drives Elisban to the location and fails to return at the end of the day forcing a return by foot to the city center. Passing out pizza fliers one evening, Elisban finally received payment: one sole as not enough of the fliers were returned by diners. His story of struggle and perseverance continues to unfold across Puno, as does his comfort with the town and his own self-worth. It was during these moments that I realized an important experience as a viewer: I felt more like an observer. Of course, any audience is an observer. However, I so often feel as though I am viewing another universe, one not within my own. In Manco Cápac, I felt like I was viewing a person I had seen before and I felt a great desire to have control over the narrative: to offer Elisban a chance at work, to pay for that entree worth two soles. Elisban is a universal character, one sprinkled across towns and cities across the world: the person who, by circumstance, is left wandering the streets in hope of work, food, and humanity. The reality of his fate is what binds his story to us as observers and why the film, ultimately, is so powerful. Those moments I had discussed earlier, when the sound editing felt off as it favored the loud voices of tourists and well-off residents was not a mistake at all. Rather, it was a technical choice representing how we ignore those we believe to be homeless or beggars and perceive them as invisible, as though they are less human due to their situation.
Manco Cápac is named after the mythological founder of the Inca empire, who according to some legends emerged from Lake Titicaca with his sister to build a sacred city of the sun, Cusco, and a great civilization. In tourism guides, Puno credits itself as the birthplace of the Inca Empire and the folklore capital of Peru. And perhaps this film is an abstract folklore tale, one where an orphaned outsider undergoes the trials of discovering the difference between civilization and civilized. More importantly, in his new world and through his struggles, he will discover his own place in it, on his own terms.
Rating: 8/10