Rating: NR | Runtime: 103 minutes
Director(s): Ulises Porra
Writer(s): Ulises Porra & Ulla Prida
To chart destinies and move bells.
This was never the plan. Lázaro (David Castillo) was supposed to arrive on the island of Hispaniola (what is today the nation of Haiti on the east side and the Dominican Republic on the west) to meet his father. He’s the man who set all this up: a house in the jungle, non-native mulberry bushes planted across the river, a deal in place with the archdiocese, and a Chinese woman (Valentina Shen Wu) proficient in the art of extracting silk from silkworms. But now he’s dead as a result of a robbery and Lázaro is left to try and pick up the pieces.
Ulises Porra’s Under the Same Sun doesn’t begin with him, however. It instead starts with Baptiste (Jean Jean). We meet his Haitian military deserter injured and roaming the island before finding the corpse of a bespectacled man. He reaches for the glasses and puts them on to open a whole new world. Baptiste’s vision is the main reason he abandoned his post with the French—fighting a war when you cannot see was a scarier prospect than a court-martial. Where does he ultimately end up? Squatting inside Lázaro’s father’s home.
What follows is a uniquely colorblind partnership wherein this trio band together with some local villagers to get their silk factory up and running. It’s a melting pot of cultures wherein Lázaro ultimately proves the weakest link despite the endeavor being his to get off the ground. Mei’s expertise is the linchpin, but Baptiste becomes an invaluable figure of strength with the ability to catch fish, protect them from French scouts, and build the infrastructure necessary to fulfill the church’s order. Without Lázaro’s connection to the money, he’s expendable.
He’s also the one who’s currently afraid as a result. Mei is bold and confident in every move she makes and Baptiste’s glasses have rejuvenated his sense of self-worth and agency. So much so that Lázaro asks Mei why they let him sleep on the bed despite being Black only for her to practically dare him to say it. He of course does nothing of the sort. In fact, all Baptiste must do is raise his voice to make Lázaro fall in line. He doesn’t do so out of aggression. Baptiste respects his de facto boss, but he’s no longer willing to sacrifice his autonomy.
This is 1819, however, so at a certain point—if Lázaro is successful in making the archdiocese satisfy the contract made with his father—there’s a good chance this dynamic will shift. It’s the evil inherent to colonialism. No matter what someone you deem inferior does to render himself invaluable, they will still be seen as a pawn to be wielded at your whim. We hope this won’t be the case considering Lázaro would be nothing without Baptiste after his original crew abandoned him upon landing (due to his need to retain Mei). These three should be equals.
When Porra further complicates the relationship with romance, though, the odds Lázaro’s return signals betrayal grow tenfold. I wish I could say this is a product of the era, but the same mindset has been running rampant today too. Look no further than ICE raids deporting Central Americans who have long been contributing members to American society (the one thing republicans demand of immigrants) simply because of their country of origin. Baptiste’s humanity and actions become an afterthought to propagandized generalizations.
Strength in numbers only works in some minds if those numbers consist of the same race, religion, language, etc. Pull Lázaro out of his circumstances and he might be a legitimate voice for changing that considering his experiences with Mei and Baptiste, but his tenuous hold on control and identity ensures jealousy and greed drive him to act against his own best interests. To start down that path is to risk an inevitable epiphany coming too late. Because Lázaro is a good man. He always eventually sees reality. But timing is crucial when it’s life-or-death.
Under the Same Sun depicts these realities with dense layers of emotion and drama showcasing how easy it is for men to hide behind rules so they mustn’t ever listen to their hearts. Castillo epitomizes Lázaro’s desperation for approval. Shen Wu never wavers in the knowledge that Mei’s the smartest person in the room. And Jean expertly toes the line between ferocity and vulnerability. Combine these performances with impeccable production design and lush cinematography and it’s impossible not to fully invest in their tragically resonant adventure.

Valentina Shen Wu, Jean Jean, and David Castillo © Sebastian Cabrera Chelin; courtesy of TIFF.






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