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The Memories We Would Visit: An Interview with Ramón Llaven and Eduardo Navarrete on EL BAILE DE LAS ÁNIMAS

Mexico’s relationship with death is always striking. Not least because, as Mexicans, we rarely stop to question it. From childhood, we accept that our dead return each year to visit us, and that their spirits, their souls, traverse specific places as part of this tradition. In El baile de las ánimas, director Ramón Llaven offers a window into this perspective through a deeply personal journey back to his native Valle de Etla, in Oaxaca.

Following the film’s premiere at the 24th Morelia International Film Festival (FICM), we had the chance to speak with the director and one of his producers about the challenges and the process involved in telling this story.

FICM: What made you choose to make this documentary, which immerses us in such a rich blend of culture, traditional beliefs, local idiosyncrasies, and the spiritual realm?

Ramón Llaven: I’m originally from Santiago Etla. Every year, we celebrate the arrival of the dead by visiting the cemetery—a practice common in many parts of the country. But we also have something we call a “muerteada.” In some places, it begins around four in the afternoon and lasts until midnight; each one is unique across the Valle de Etla.

The “muerteada” begins with a play that features local characters, recounting events and gossip from the town. In the performance, there is a “dead man” whom various characters attempt to revive—or, as we call it, “raise the dead.” The celebration truly kicks off only when the espiritista (medium) arrives and brings the man back from the world of the dead. In other words, the festivities begin once the dead man has returned from the afterlife.

So, the project centered on two things: the concept of death itself, and Doña Julia, a medium I’ve known since I was five years old. In a way, those two paths converged. In reality, that was the reason for making the documentary was to show what a “muerteada” is like from the inside. And secondly, to try to answer some questions that had come up during my childhood. Questions regarding the work that Mrs. Julia did.

FICM: Do your childhood fears and sense of wonder play a role in the making of the film?

Ramón Llaven: I would say that, rather than fear, I feel a sense of joy as the “muerteada” approaches. Among everyone I know who enjoys the “muerteada”, and believe me, there are many, we all look forward to this celebration. Right now, everyone has their costumes ready, or is just finishing them up, so they can dance and perform.

I focus more on that—on the joy. Personally, dancing every year feels like both the beginning and the end of a cycle: “I’m alive for one more day, one more year. I’m about to start yet another year.”

Rather than the typical New Year’s celebration, like the one on December 31st, for me, the year begins at a different time. During the Day of the Dead.

FICM: I assume you didn’t cover all 300 towns in the Etla Valley, but you did make an effort to include several of them. What were the challenges of filming a project like this?

Eduardo Navarrete: When we began the project, it coincided with the start of the pandemic. We spent about two years dealing with many restrictions. That was a challenge, but it also became an opportunity—it gave us the time to visit various communities, connect with different people, and build more personal relationships with them, including those who eventually became the protagonists of the film. In the end, that worked in our favor.

The fact that Ramón is originally from one of these communities opened many doors for us. Thanks to his family ties and friendships, he knows the entire region very well. We didn’t visit every single town; from the moment the script was being written, he already knew which villages he was interested in to achieve certain contrasts within the story.

While the “muerteada” (a traditional Day of the Dead performance/procession) and the Day of the Dead itself appear, I believe the documentary also touches upon other topics, such as labor, one’s connection to the land, and local customs. It was very clear to me that I didn’t want to make an informational documentary. I wanted something more sensory—an exploration of how our protagonists experience their relationship with death and how they await the return of their departed souls.

FICM: The documentary features a sense of both mastery over and contemplation of a death that is not our own, yet it serves as a foundation for the life cycles of a community. I wondered if this was intentional—a deliberate narrative choice for the film?

Ramón Llaven: In reality, these images were indeed intentional, but they are rooted in everyday life. For instance, if you belong to a certain community, it’s quite common to witness the slaughter of an animal or see one being prepared for work.

This entire process—the wear and tear, the labor—might be perceived differently from another perspective, perhaps from the point of view of someone living in a city. The slaughter of a pig, for example, can be quite intense, but having grown up with it, I’ve seen it happen time and again. It’s common to see someone raise an animal specifically to be eaten during an important celebration.

It’s also worth mentioning that there is a spirit's perspective which weaves throughout the entire documentary. It stems from this question: If, after death, you were allowed to revisit the place where you once lived, what would you do? Which places would you visit? What would you remember?

For example, I recall catching grasshoppers with a group of other children, going out to gather them to eat, or spending time in the fields, observing or harvesting crops from the milpa (cornfield). These are the kinds of things you do as a child with such joy and enthusiasm.

FICM: This perspective, using a spirit as our guide, creates an interesting contrast between the playful notion of a narrator from the afterlife and the contemplative experience the documentary invites us into. What led you to include this element of a spirit?

Ramón Llaven: From a technical standpoint, Francisco and I discussed the concept at length. The real challenge was defining how someone who is no longer physically present would "see". In other words, how they would observe the world.

We decided to use a specific type of lens: the Petzval lens. Later, in post-production, we added certain elements—essentially optical aberrations—into the frame.

This also relates to the fact that it is an observational documentary. If you were to return and observe something you once took part in, how much time would you dedicate to it? Would you become part of that observation?

For instance, in the “muerteada” (a traditional Day of the Dead celebration), one can see it become part of the crowd of dancers—at times accompanying the children, moving about, and even taking flight.

It also relates to dreams. Surely many have had the experience of dreaming that they are flying and can control their flight—that is, to choose where to go. If you had that opportunity, where would you go? Why that place? Where? When?