Filmmaker Cristina Ibarra on her movie The Infiltrators, coming to theaters today
The docu-thriller tells the true story of young immigrants who are detained by Border Patrol on purpose to expose the injustices of the system.
Interview by Elizabeth Dickson
Cristina Ibarra grew up along the Mexico-United States border in El Paso, Texas, and in Ciudad Juarez, Mexico,“straddling both cities between two nations”, as she recounts. Initially studying Law, she discovered Chicana and media studies, and quickly realized that her passion laid in filmmaking.
Since moving to New York City 16 years ago, Cristina has created a range of award-winning films chronicling the Mexico-US border, Mexican traditions, and coming-of-age stories, with the border serving as a muse for her work. Her most recent project, The Infiltrators, is a documentary-narrative hybrid that follows the remarkable true story of young undocumented immigrants who are intentionally detained by Border Patrol, and their subsequent attempt to stop deportations from the inside of a for-profit detention center, in Florida. The documentary premiered at the 2019 Sundance Film Festival, and received both the NEXT Innovator Award, from the jury, and NEXT Audience Award.
Over the phone from Los Angeles, Cristina caught up with New Women New Yorkers to discuss the movie and to talk about how her identity has shaped her creative work. The interview fell on the one-year anniversary of Claudio Rojas’ deportation back to Argentina, who, in 2012, was detained by ICE officials outside his home in Florida without warning. Claudio’s deportation sparked the radical mission taken on by Marco Saavedra, Viridiana Martinez, and Mohammad Abdollahi, who in turn, inspired the making of The Infiltrators. The movie is being virtually released today, May 1st, in theatres nationwide. Please check theinfiltrators.oscilloscope.net for programming.
How would you say your upbringing informed your decision to work with documentaries?
I really appreciate that question, because it’s such a strange upbringing when I try to describe it to other folks who didn’t grow up along the border. It almost feels like you’re not choosing whether you’re living in the US or whether you’re living in Mexico… Growing up it was so easy for me, to go back and forth between the two countries. I didn’t really understand that privilege too well when I was growing up. I do remember crossing the bridge to visit my grandmother, and I remember this one particular moment when, I must have been nine years old and, I was with my family in an air conditioned car on the bridge waiting in line to cross back into the United States. I looked over and there’s this girl who looked just like me. She had long brown hair, brown skin, and she was standing in the line out in the hot sun holding her mum’s hand. I just thought to myself: ‘That could be me’. What is the difference between her who is waiting out there to get her documentation checked, and me who is in this air conditioned car who can just pass through with no papers at all? What is that? Is it just fate? I feel like those questions were very natural growing up along the border, were things that I kept thinking about, and were never quite answerable in a sufficient way as I was growing up. Those questions inform a lot of the work that I do.
When I met the activists from The Infiltrators with Alex [Rivera, who co-directed the movie], I felt like they helped me reach back to that moment, of that nine-year-old girl. Sometimes I think that from the comfort of your own place, and at that time it was my parents’ back seat, you can’t do anything. They were a very strong reminder that it doesn’t matter where you are, what kind of privilege or non-privilege you have, if they can do this, then we can do something about it. I feel like growing up along the border really led me to be open towards this kind of story, stories about people fighting back. We’re so used to seeing immigrants as victims, and in this case you have young people who are sophisticated, political strategists. They’re powerful, they own their own power, and they are using it. They know the US government better than I do, better than a lot of my immigrant friends, or citizen friends. They‘re real Americans.
Do you go back often to the US/Mexico border?
Yes I do, I try to go back as often as I can. It’s almost like my muse, I think. I have my family there. A lot of my family from Juarez have moved over, so I have very few family members there, specifically, but we’re scattered across all the way to Las Vegas, Nevada.
You started studying Law, but then you moved into filmmaking. How did this transition happen?
As the child of an immigrant parent, I feel like it’s pretty typical that you’re either going to be a doctor or a lawyer, maybe now an engineer. My sister was very clear from a young age that she wanted to be a doctor, so that left me with being a lawyer! It wasn’t my true love, it was like, ‘What can I do to help my family?’ But law school allowed me the opportunity to explore other disciplines. I discovered Chicana and media studies, and put them together.
Your most recent project is The Infiltrators. What led you to create a documentary of this nature?
These activists who infiltrate a detention center really changed something in the way I thought about growing up along the border. I felt for the first time that immigrant deportation could be stopped; it was something that I should have known but I didn’t. Meeting them, seeing them doing anything possible to make that happen really changed that for me. The way that they created their strategies to stop deportation was truly inspiring.
When my father was their age, he was undocumented, and he would never have done anything like this. I remember stories about his childhood, and he talks about living in the shadows, and just how embarrassing it was. Here I am, seeing these young people who are so proud and out, and so radical. It’s just news to me. Their tactics at the time were very controversial; it was not a widely accepted strategy to be out, to have your identity be that as an undocumented young person, but they really tried, and they succeeded. More and more it became a political strategy, but they really were the ones that inspired it.
In terms of the activists being quite resourceful and upfront about it as you say, was that intentional on your end to show it in that way?
It was completely intentional, because we took the lead of the activists themselves, and we also took the lead of the other protagonists and subjects in the film. Because of the way that we were telling the story and its hybrid nature, we had an opportunity to “hide their identity” if we needed to, and so the people who wanted to be identified as undocumented, were so. It wasn’t something that we determined; it was something that was determined by the people in the film. So in that way, it was a collaboration.
Do you still keep in contact with them?
Yes, somewhat. Mohammad and Viridiana went to the screening; they were at every screening at Sundance. Marco and Claudio weren’t able to go. We did really well, we got some great reviews, so the film elevated a lot of these personalities to a national status; some of them already had it. Claudio had a national profile for the first time. When he went into his regular check-in with ICE – which he had been doing every year since the infiltration was successful, and released him – , for the first time, he didn’t come out; they detained him. So the infiltrators and us joined together and tried to create some pressure – almost reliving the film in a way. We felt like we were almost inside of our film in some ways. We were working with them and trying to stop his deportation, and sadly it failed. Today, exactly today, it’s been the one year anniversary of Claudio’s deportation. He was separated from his family and his new grandchild. His son is going to have another child again, so basically life is moving on as much as possible, but he’s over there, and it’s been incredibly difficult. Mohammad, Marco, Viri, these are the contents of discussion we’ve been having, just around the distribution of the film, so we still keep in touch when we can.
What do you want people to take away from the film?
I want them to feel as if they’ve seen a good story, something that they haven’t seen before. But I also feel like this film, in a way, was made for that nine-year-old on the bridge, trying to cross; and for people who feel that they can’t do anything. Sometimes I hope it’s inspiring people to act, and to talk to politicians and create pressure to stop separating families.
Do you have any other projects in the near future? Anything upcoming?
I’ve been working on a feature-documentary set in Honduras. It’s following the legacy of a 93-year-old radical nun who had projects to help people stay in Honduras and build opportunities there. That’s the main project. Right now it’s unclear what the timeline will be, because of the coronavirus spread. Hopefully it’ll be finished soon.
Are there any female directors that inspire you in your work?
Yes, definitely! Chicana Lourdes Portillo and her film “The Devil Never Sleeps” are really inspiring. She broke down creative barriers for me, she was making films before I even thought about making films. She was this wonderful filmmaker with a very strong and creative personal voice. There’s a filmmaker called Natalia Almada, who is considered a genius. She got a MacArthur Fellowship, and she’s a border-crossing filmmaker too. She’s dual-citizen of Mexico and the US. Her films are also really risky and just incredibly creative. There are fictional writers, like Ligiah Villalobos, who wrote Under the Same Moon, and is also someone who has been incredibly inspiring.
