‘20,000 Species of Bees’ REVIEW: The hive we are a part of
‘20,000 Species of Bees’ REVIEW: The hive we are a part of
Trigger warning: Mature content and discussions regarding suicide.
For most of the film, we follow Coco, played by Sofia Otero, and her family as they visit her mother's old neighborhood. We stay in their grandmother’s home; we occasionally meet a few neighbors and some relatives. Coco is a peculiar child; you can see in her wide eyes a hint of wonder.
The child asks questions about faith and baptism, hates being half-naked in public pools, and is fond of her aunt’s bees, yet what separates her from the rest of her friends, cousins and siblings is her sense of self-consciousness, a trait we would not typically associate with an eight-year-old. And for around two hours, we grapple with how family affects our journey of figuring out who we really are.
Upon watching the film, one cannot help but gain a sense of responsibility in writing such a delicate topic — a sentiment I am sure you would share as well. In the director’s interview with the European Film Academy, she shared that what prompted her to write the film was the suicide of a young transgender teenager in the Basque Country of 2018 Spain. She said that prior to 2018, there was zero conversation about trans rights. However, in the spark of what happened to the young teenager from Basque, more awareness was brought about, and in 2023, Spain just signed into law which permits gender self-identification, the Ley Trans (Trans Law).
At its core, 20,000 Species of Bees is a story of a family reconciling their understanding of each other, of themselves, and of the wandering young Coco. I think its writer and director Estibaliz Urresola said it best when she described it in an interview with TheUpcoming during the 2023 Berlin Film Festival. She elegantly describes the film as “a portrait of a transition, but it’s a transition of a family.”
With us mostly looking at Coco as she reacts or does not react to what happens around her, we are gradually introduced to the struggle the young child also realizes. The film even cleverly subverts our perception in the tiny details about Coco. From her long hair, how she dresses, how she pees, and even with how other people perceive her, all of which add to the film’s exploration of identity, gender dysmorphia, and traditional social expectations.
We too are part of this exploration; like the neighbors and relatives, we sway back and forth about whether to see Coco as a boy or a girl. Even her mother, Ane, gets mixed up, which upsets Coco on a few occasions — occasions in which we are shown why Sofia Otero’s performance was deserving of the Silver Bear from the Berlin Film Festival.
I am reminded of a similar experience with Monster, a 2023 Japanese film directed by Hirokazu Kore-eda. Similarly, the film follows the perspective of a child (especially in the latter part) as it discusses the intricacies of the effect that people around us have on how we express ourselves. We are shown why the main characters of Monster feel and act a certain way — why they go home with a missing shoe; why they cut their own hair; why they fight with someone in class.
Similarly, we are shown why Coco hates going to pools half naked; why she prefers to be with her beekeeper aunt; and why she asks such profound questions about faith, naming babies, and baptism. We are made familiar with such a mind that we would have otherwise never understood as a third-person observer. We are shown how traditional expectations about gender and family take a toll on a child. All of which is in service of a greater purpose, which I think is to simply develop more empathy with each other.
The theme of self-discovery does not cling only to Coco, as her experiences loosely mirror those of her mother, Ane. Throughout the film, Ane struggles to balance reconciling with her distant husband, her mother, Coco, and even herself as her interest in sculpting is reignited after being offered to be an art teacher.
But despite all this, what Ane portrays is a mother dedicated to what is best for her children — a performance delivered with such dedication by Patricia López Arnaiz, to which she also gardened a number of accolades. With the number of people buzzing around the conversation of Coco, Ane is our way of bridging our traditional understandings of gender and family towards a more open and sympathetic point of view. Her actions and words give us a template of how we should approach such a scenario if we ever are faced with it: to act with compassion and openness akin to a mother.
Films such as this remind us of our ability to bridge connections with each other. We all face difficult circumstances that affect the people around us, whether intentional or not. Our views, our perceptions, and our voice can harm and, quite frankly, can bring the confusion we so desperately avoid. But it can also build and rebuild what we know and understand with each other. In this case, if Coco is the queen bee, it is up to her family and to us to make her feel secure in the hive we are a part of.
‘20,000 Species of Bees’ was one of the films screened at PELÍCULA>PELIKULA 2024. Manila Spanish Film Festival, which began last October 6, 2024. The film festival ran until October 13, 2024. For the schedule of other screenings, visit the Instituto Cervantes de Manila’s Facebook Page.