“Reas is a masterpiece of possibilities, a documentary which shows the resilience of our human spirit and how hope, art and just a little imagination can change the walls built around us into open air spaces.”

Hybrid documentaries are nothing new. They help tell a true story through the use of animation, re-enactments, and scripted narratives, along with the traditional talking heads and archival footage of the more conformist style used in non-fiction films. In the Arab world, where archival footage is often missing or voices can be censored, hybrid documentaries have become the norm in telling both personal stories, such as in Kaouther Ben Hania’s Oscar-nominated 2023 title Four Daughters, and national history, like in Moroccan helmer Asmae El Moudir’s festival favourite (and ICS Best Documentary winner) The Mother of All Lies or the 2014 Palestinian doc The Wanted 18.

World premiering at this year’s Berlinale as part of the Forum program is a standout hybrid documentary which should be high on everyone’s must-watch list. It is Lola Arias’ Reas, a colourful, delightful film that features ex-cons in a former prison reconstructing their stories through music and storytelling. The result is spellbinding, and watching Reas brings joy to the viewer, something we tend to miss out on in documentaries these days. The genre is often used to tell tales of woe and trouble, of war and destruction, whereas Reas recreates challenging times with such beauty and joie de vivre, as well as the helpful aid of music, that I wouldn’t mind watching this film again and again. Think Chicago, without the Hollywood budget, sleek production values, and stars, but somehow more enjoyable.

Reas tells the story of half a dozen ex-convicts who served their time inside Ezeiza, Buenos Aires’ women’s prison facility located near a small airport of the same name. One of them is Yoseli, a young woman with luscious blonde hair who always dreamed of traveling and even has the Eiffel Tower tattooed on her right shoulder — with the words “Never Give Up” written in black ink underneath it. She reenacts how she was caught at the airport transporting drugs in her suitcase; she never made it out of Argentina, landing in jail instead. When we see her arrive at the prison she immediately meets the rest of the girls, including Nacho, a trans man, and Auntie Noe, a transvestite former prostitute who, like Madonna, loves to Vogue; she is also missing her front teeth (unlike Madonna).

Rounding out the lot are a trio of prison guards who also happen to be former inmates, and an assorted cast of characters that through their stories and dance routines take over the screen as well as our hearts. What is perfectly clear is that these are not professional actors, even if at times their candor and storytelling as well as their singing are so perfect that as an audience we cannot imagine they have not done this profesionally for years, instead of committing the minor and major crimes they of course consistently defend or deny.

Arias’ first film Theatre of War (2018) also premiered at the Berlinale, in the very same Forum section. Yet another hybrid doc, it also made use of non-actors who had been through traumatic events to retell the story. In that instance, the film dealt with the conflicting masculinities in a group of ex-servicemen from both sides of the Falklands/Malvinas War. This time it is a women’s story all the way, and perhaps Reas serves as the perfect bookend to Theatre of War. Personally I also couldn’t avoid a comparison with the Taviani brothers’ 2012 documentary Caesar Must Die, filmed inside Rebibbia prison in Rome. There, the inmates of the high-security prison prepared for a public performance of Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar, while Reas was born from a workshop conducted by Arias inside the Ezeiza prison, which was interrupted by the worldwide pandemic in 2020. The comparison does not end there though. Because like the Taviani film, Reas is a masterpiece of possibilities, a documentary which shows the resilience of our human spirit and how hope, art and just a little imagination can change the walls built around us into open air spaces, and even make a jailyard appear like a Caribbean beach, complete with sand, inflatable pools and bikinis.

Image copyright: Gema Films