Five Years, Four Months: An Intimate Portrait of Grief and Resilience in Colombia

Since the mid‑1960s, the Colombian armed conflict has led to the disappearance of thousands of individuals. Over time this reality has become a familiar backdrop, and the passage of years can dull the horror for some observers. Yet for the mothers of the missing, as seen in Five Years, Four Months, the pain never fades; it evolves, deepening the gulf between those who still seek answers and those who have learned to live without constant reminders of loss.

In a restrained yet potent cinematic approach, directors Juan Miguel Gelacio and Esteban Hoyos García craft a landscape of alienation that envelopes a portrait of Martha Baquero—a composite based on real stories gathered during the project. Premiering in the Crystal Globe competition at the Karlovy Vary International Film Festival, the film demonstrates the duo’s command of cinema’s visceral, affective power.

On the surface, the film appears firmly rooted in documentary realism, chronicling Martha’s long bus journeys across the country as she examines possible burial sites and navigates the bureaucracy of nationwide exhumation projects. Yet the directors weave these scenes into a sensory and emotional tapestry that underscores the liminal state of Martha’s life—the quiet interval that defines her existence.

Even during the most serene moments, she remains absent, perpetually waiting for an answer, for her son, for something better. The camera’s close focus on her expressions magnifies her loneliness and her guarded distance from others, while meticulous sound design amplifies ambient noises—birds, traffic, wind—creating a hyper‑aware, yet detached atmosphere that mirrors the simultaneous numbness and vigilance of trauma survivors.

The tension cultivated by Gelacio and García edges toward the harrowing. Melodramatic sequences show Martha’s unsettling dreams of nondescript bodies in a dark forest, images that, instead of alienating the viewer, serve as a release, easing the suspense and reinforcing a mood of anxious anticipation steeped in anticipation.

Every element of Five Years, Four Months works in harmony, delivering an unbroken hypnotic spell. Central to this is Jenny Nava’s largely wordless performance as Martha—a character who appears stoic but whose subtle opacity invites inquiry into her inner world, hinting at unexpressed emotions that linger beneath a composed façade.

Early in the narrative, Martha joins a dance‑therapy class for grieving mothers. Here she finally channels her sorrow, reconnecting with her body, while in the wider world life persists. It is heartbreaking when Martha inserts a note of cheerfulness into ordinary conversation to placate others, all the while her demeanor resonates with deep sorrow.

The class scene underscores that she is not alone, yet the communal support proves insufficient. A fellow participant prompts her that she is not solitary, but Martha remains steadfastly poised, unwilling to accept that a resolution may elude her. When another mother, Sandra (played by Carmiña Martínez in Birds of Passage), mentions a site where she might locate her son by “speaking with a dead man,” Martha willingly embarks on a surreal quest.

Following Sandra’s lead, the story shifts from ambient dread to vivid, concrete peril. The tension escalates as Martha confronts a potentially criminal, treacherous path, yet she finds a strange solace within the harrowing journey, signaling a fragile hope that differences in trauma can converge into a shared space of relief.

The film’s conclusion is ambiguous, inviting each viewer to draw their own inference. Nevertheless, the narrative reaches its emotional zenith earlier, during a hauntingly beautiful scene where Martha speaks of her son for the first time. As Gelacio and García broaden the frame to lush surroundings, the ordinary beauty seems to resonate with Fabian’s youthful vigor and Martha’s enduring love, illustrating the delicate transition from raw grief to the gentle acceptance of benevolent ghosts.

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