Christmas Eve in Donaciano Ojeda was an affair I couldn’t quite picture when Aristeo and Leucadia first insisted we come to film it. I knew there would be fireworks, food and music. But in a small community with little resources, I couldn’t imagine how grand it would turn out to be. As I watched the spectacle of fireworks spin at the top of the castillo, a 40-foot tower of hand-rigged explosives, I felt this overwhelming resolution: Life goes on, and it’s all going to be okay.
The six piece brass band was still playing the same tune they’d been playing since noon, orchestrating the ritual procession of the day. We’d feasted on homemade mole, chicken and tortillas, marched across the community to offer flowers at the altars of the churches, lit sparklers and sang for the plastic baby Jesus… all while the band played on. I missed the traditions back home, relaxing in pajamas with my immediate family and feasting on seven fishes. But there was something surprisingly intimate in this large family of more than a hundred celebrating all day and preparing for days before that. Over the course of six production trips in two years, we witnessed a lot of turmoil in the reserve for both the monarchs and people who live there.
But the strength, resilience, and sense of community present in Donaciano Ojeda ultimately gave me some hope for the future. Maybe, just maybe it’s going to be okay. We started this film with the lowest monarch count on record, and we end production cautiously optimistic about reports for a 300-400% increase this year. The weather was better this year, but habitat is still at threat, scientists say. Perhaps humanity will come through after all. Thanks to support of ITVS funding, we have already commenced post-production with our Mexican editor Gabriel Herrera, who grew up in the region and is the creative editor behind Kings of Nowhere, another cinematic story of Mexican resilience. We can’t wait to share what we come up with!
