Introduction
As I sit down to write this review, a large bouquet of red roses sits on my desk, courtesy of one of my brothers for Mother’s Day. My family isn’t overly expressive, but we make an effort to acknowledge the day, albeit discreetly. My older brother, however, has moved from subtlety to overt displays, including within our family circle.
The Complexity of Motherhood
According to Perogrullo, being a mother isn’t easy. Birth is merely the introduction to an unfamiliar stranger who now requires immediate care and nurturing. Tears, cries, congratulations, and fear – that’s how it begins, as Patti Smith once described. The mystery of birth is just the start.
Once you have your little one, there’s a certain expectation to project an image of motherhood. Dress them in cute outfits, pair them with trendy shoes to show you’re a cool mom. Enroll them in kindergarten, karate classes, and university. Eventually, you’ll find yourself on Mother’s Day with a semi-buchón bouquet and a plea: “Mom, make a mole; I’ll take care of you when I have grandkids.”
There are worse scenarios, of course, like shooting yourself in the liver or jumping off a cliff. The issue with motherhood is that it’s incurable. You live with the anxiety, exhaustion, and occasional rewards that come with raising your child. The exchange has been romanticized; when you see a snail dancing at a festival, everything makes sense. Alas, in motherhood.
The Mexican National Institute of Statistics and Geography (Inegi) reports that the age of Mexican mothers in the middle and upper classes has increased. Women now prioritize education, work, and relationships before considering motherhood in their thirties. As a millennial without children, I’ve witnessed my university peers transition swiftly from pursuing overseas graduate degrees to meticulously tracking their menstrual cycles to determine ovulation.
The Unspoken Questions of Motherhood
Even when motherhood is desired, there are uncomfortable questions to consider: Who nurtures? How? Can men participate? Is there a right or wrong way to raise children? What support network is in place? Is having a partner essential for this monumental task? Can one opt-out of parenthood like a modern-day Nora from “A Doll’s House”? Does one remain a mother despite rejecting that role? How, how, how does one live with this weariness, this frustration, this fear?
Who assists these mothers returning home exhausted from work, only to clean up their children’s mess? As a detached observer, I can attest that being a mother is a pain in the ass.
Flora and Son: A Film Review
This brings us to “Flora and Son,” directed by John Carney (available on Apple TV). Carney excels at crafting poignant stories, albeit tinged with subtle melancholy. Take, for instance, his debut film “Once,” a fleeting love story between a street musician and an immigrant woman united by music and Dublin. “Once” features beautiful songs (winning an Oscar for Best Original Song) and a script that hovers between sorrow and sunlight. If you watch it without feeling moved, I can’t be associated with such negativity.
“Flora and Son” tells the story of Flora, a woman who became a mother at 17, believing it would give her life purpose. However, she spent most of Max’s childhood under the influence, resulting in a strained relationship. They live together but more like siblings who can’t stand each other, with insults flying in their shared apartment/shoebox.
Carney masterfully captures the lives of Ireland’s working class. Unlike Ken Loach, who leans towards tragedy, Carney uses music to explain everything. I’m firmly on Team Carney.
Flora and Max: An Imperfect Relationship
Flora and Max are far from the resilient duo found in melodramas. Flora dislikes working and, when she does, like as a nanny in an affluent Dublin neighborhood, she’s capable of stealing from her employer’s purse. She feels most alive in the dance clubs of her neighborhood.
Max, too, is no better; he’s a reckless teenager on the brink of juvenile detention. His mother tries her best to keep him away from law enforcement, but hope is scarce. Max seems destined for a life of crime.
Enter the music. I won’t reveal more of the plot, but let’s just say that sometimes an EDM beat can be the ultimate salvation.
At a pivotal moment in the film, Flora and Max compose a song defining their relationship: “You don’t live my life, and I don’t live yours,” the lyrics go, “but we’ve been on the wrong side for so long, perhaps this is our chance for a good life.” (I’m deliberately vague to pique your curiosity). In this song lies the most moving moment of their tumultuous relationship. Flora sings, “This is a love song, but it’s not an apology… sometimes I hate you because you remind me of myself.” Motherhood can be a confusing whirlwind of unspoken emotions.
Key Questions and Answers
- What is the main theme of the article? The article explores the complexities and contradictions of motherhood, using John Carney’s film “Flora and Son” as a case study.
- Who is John Carney, and why is his work relevant? John Carney is a filmmaker known for his poignant stories about the Irish working class. His films, like “Once” and “Flora and Son,” offer insightful portrayals of motherhood’s challenges.
- What is the significance of “Flora and Son”? The film depicts an imperfect mother-son relationship, highlighting the emotional turmoil and unanswered questions surrounding modern motherhood.
- How does the article view motherhood? The article acknowledges motherhood as an act of redemption and hope for many women, while also recognizing its inherent difficulties and the societal pressures surrounding it.
- What is the article’s stance on the idea of an innate maternal instinct? The author does not believe in a predetermined maternal instinct, asserting that women are not incomplete or egoistic for choosing not to become mothers.
In conclusion, motherhood is a balancing act of redemption and condemnation. It’s an act of hope and wild love, but also a bullet to the liver, a leap into the void. It’s as subtle and brutal as that.
