i Mae

The scouts

A birthday picnic that turns into social autopsy—sounds like it could be something, but Ramírez plays it too straight, letting the conformism he's diagnosing seep into the film's own rhythm. The premise does the heavy lifting; the execution just watches.

Ramírez positions this within the Latin American essay-film tradition, using the social gathering as a formal container for generational critique—the way the picnic's temporal stretch mirrors the accumulation of small moral failures recalls Kiarostami's patient anthropology, even if the execution doesn't quite reach that register.

There's a specific moment when the camera holds on someone's face during a conversational lull—not performing ennui, just *being* it—and that choice to trust silence over scoring is what separates this from a sociology lecture dressed as drama.