Friendship and Fantasy Intertwine in ‘Don’t You Let Me Go’ as It Heads to Huelva After Tribeca Win

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The unique joy of friendship is at the fore in helmers Ana Guevara and Leticia Jorge’s “Don’t You Let Me Go.”

Produced by Uruguay-based Agustina Chiarino’s Bocacha Films, the feature clinched the Noah Ephron Award at this year’s Tribeca Film Festival. It marks Guevara and Jorge’s third collaboration with Bocacha, a production company at the forefront of pan-regional co-productions. Paris-based Alpha Violet is handling international sales.

The film opens at a wake. Adela, portrayed by Chiara Hourcade, reminisces with friends there to mark the death of her best friend Elena, dead at 39. The friends and family gathered are heartfelt, polite and emotional in this most clinical and anodyne of places. “Nothing here reminds me of my sister,” remarks one.

Waves of grief hit people at different times; Adela’s strikes as she sits in her car to leave. It’s in these opening moments that the fantastical strikes. From this moment, the narrative via the fantastical transports viewers back in time to a joyful weekend with Elena (Vicky Jorge) and their friend Luci (Eva Dans).

“The fantastical is born from a need to understand reality differently,” Guevara and Jorge told Variety. “In her most vulnerable moment, Adela manages to summon a bus that lets her travel through time, similar to the Catbus in “My Neighbour Totoro.” Thus, the rules of the world she arrives in must necessarily be different. Elena, alive and drinking a smoothie with her, is just as fantastical and wonderful as the little bird reciting Pessoa or the shoe that endlessly spills sand. Adela doesn’t perceive these surreal gestures as strange. At some point, she even embraces them and uses them to make her friends laugh.”

We’re born to families and fall for our lovers, but friendship has a unique quality that this story captures. At its heart, “Don’t You Let Me Go” is a celebration of friendship’s unique capacity for unburdened joy—the quiet nourishment found in moments shared without expectation or responsibility.

Following its Tribeca triumph, the film is set for its next major showcase at Huelva, with a market screening hosted by Alpha Violet at Ventana Sur in December. Variety caught up with Guevara and Jorge ahead of the film’s Huelva Spanish premiere:

Though the story begins with loss, it evolves into a celebration of deep, unwavering friendship—the joy, the inside jokes, the comfort that only best friends can offer. Do you see friendship as the film’s central theme, perhaps even more so than grief or are the two intertwined?

The film speaks of an absence but does so to celebrate that there was a presence. It’s a celebration of the joy of shared time. In that sense, the theme of the film is indeed friendship; specifically, it could be friendship at a particular moment in life when the adult world and its responsibilities haven’t yet intruded much into the protagonists’ routines.

In fact, the first version of the script was just that weekend they spend together. But at some point, we realized we didn’t want to dramatize the plot, so to speak; we wanted only the purest, maybe romantic, version of that moment, and that had to do with invoking it from the depths of grief. So we decided to frame it with loss, to have Adela embark on the same search we were undergoing. That’s when all the fantastical elements came in. Adela travels through time to reconnect with Elena. We’re seeking the same thing by making this film.

Don’t You Let Me Go Credit: Soledad Rodríguez

The relaxed chemistry between the actresses is palpable and essential. What was your approach to rehearsals or shooting to encourage this to form?

We worked a lot on the scenes, especially on the dialogues, so they felt believable. The actresses also each nurtured their character compositions, which grew once they became part of the project.

Additionally, Chiara, Eva, and Vicky made a plan: they met during the casting process and decided they would become friends. They created a group chat for the three of them started going out together and hanging out. They lived in the same little house during filming. They took care of each other. Surely, something of all that they created together can be felt in the film.

The title “Don’t You Let Me Go” captures Adela’s yearning to escape her grief, which she’s granted—at least for one more weekend. How did you settle on this title and the words that introduce each chapter, and what does it mean to you within the context of Adela’s journey?

All these elements have a literary origin. The title, in particular, both in Spanish and in English (which aren’t the same), comes from the name of a story by Alice Munro, an author we greatly admire.

In the chapter titles, we include dialogue lines from each chapter and some song lyrics that resonated with us and that we repeated like mantras. They are perhaps a slightly poetic gesture, but above all, they are a literary resource to divide the film into chapters, to make the structure evident, and thereby make the film more self-aware. They’re like little pauses we take to breathe, as if saying, “This is a story, let’s continue.”

The ending is left open-ended, with Adela seemingly holding onto her friend’s memory forever. What do you hope audiences take away from this conclusion, and how do you feel it speaks to the universal experience of holding onto loved ones we’ve lost?

There’s a line in a song by Maxi Angelieri that we love, and it goes like this: “I would like to give you such a perfect moment that it becomes a place you can return to whenever you need it.” That’s the essence of what we wanted to do. And the notion that the other is a part of you, just as you are a part of the other. And as long as one exists, something of the other remains too.

Directing can be a role that carries immense responsibility and pressure. Do you see working together as co-directors as an advantage over directing alone? How does sharing the role influence your process and decision-making throughout a project?

We grew up together in this journey of cinema, and this is the third film we’ve made together. Each of us had our own process. Don’t You Let Me Go specifically wouldn’t have been made if we hadn’t been together—for both the emotional challenge it entailed and the desire to share it.
Regarding decisions, it’s a very free and playful film; it was like a game where we allowed each other to be carried away.

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