“Another singular and compelling addition to Pereda’s distinctive body of work.”

Playing in this year’s New York Film Festival’s Main Slate is the latest work from prolific Mexican filmmaker Nicolás Pereda, Everything Else Is Noise. This one is the newest in a string from the filmmaker to play major festivals such as New York and Toronto, and it’s the first of his films to be scheduled in New York’s Main Slate, after prior works such as Fauna and Lázaro at Night played in the festival’s Currents sidebar that is meant for more experimental projects. Everything Else Is Noise features many of the familiar actors found in a lot of Pereda’s other works as he continues to develop his singular style and form. On its face Everything Else Is Noise may seem less daring than Pereda’s prior works due to its straightforward narrative, but its less expansive setting and complicated plot create a film that’s unique and entirely captivating.   

The film revolves around three women composers from three different generations. Tere (the monumental Teresita Sánchez) is the oldest and spends many of her days at home composing music. She struggles with her apartment’s social dynamics and figuring out when is the best time to play her cello; she seems to have an agreement with one neighbor to play only in the morning, but now a new couple with a young baby ask her not to play the cello in the morning, due to their inability to sleep because of their crying baby and their fear that the baby may wake again. Living with Tere for a few months is the youngest woman, Luisa (Luisa Pardo), her daughter, who also composes music though perhaps with not as much dedication. Luisa is in her mid to late 30s or early 40s, but seems lost and unable to really find her vocation, as Tere says. She spends the day lounging around in an oversized shirt and what appears to be her pajamas. The third woman, Rosa (Rosa Estela Juárez Vargas) is between the ages of the mother and daughter. During the film’s opening stages, she goes to Tere’s apartment in order to give an interview about her life for a television station. Rosa is apparently mature and gracefully moving into middle age.

The crux of the film centers around this interview, which provides major insights into all three women. Lázaro (Lázaro Gabino Rodríguez) conducts the discussion, while it is being filmed by Paco (Francisco Barreiro). Pereda uses the interview to peel back the layers of these women’s lives. While they all have the same vocation and similar family ties with a famous composer, they are now at different stages and approach life differently, whether due to the time in which they came of age or because of their personalities. It is revealed that Tere had Luisa at a young age, which is contrasted with Luisa’s life of not knowing her father well. Tere displays considerable wisdom and self-reflection, while Luisa appears frustrated and in need of a compass. Rosa provides a balance, able to bridge the gap between the women. 

This all seems rather serious, but Pereda frames the narrative with a sly sense of absurdism. Pereda films his opening shot, which lasts nearly ten minutes, at a congested intersection with cars honking, bikes passing, and sirens wailing. The camera is static, and then in the following shots, it’s revealed that this is the common traffic noise outside of Tere’s apartment. There’s also distraction from the dog barking down the hall and the continuing power outages in the building. Even more cacophonous is the cello itself; during a moment when Tere plays one of her compositions, it sounds quite discordant. In this moment Pereda lightens the mood, as Paco covers his face, barely able to keep from laughing. Other scenes and shots demonstrate that Pereda’s realism has a borderline sense of comedy to it. When Paco asks Luisa for her phone number in order to contact her to compose the score for his next film, instead of providing her number, she tells Paco to add her on Instagram. Paco continues to insist, but Luisa contends that Instagram is the way to go. Pereda’s deadpan seriousness in these scenes, combined with the baffled look on Paco’s face and the absurdity of the ideas, create a number of hilarious moments.    

The “noise” that’s suggested in the film’s title is not just physical aural sensation, but also mental noise. The three women are all at different stages in life and have different obstacles and battles to face. Life itself is noise, external and internal, and Pereda films the opposite. The apartment is almost the only location in the entire film, outside of the opening shot on the street. He breaks down the noise of life to create a quite meaningful story that delves into his characters’ psyches within the small space. Everything Else Is Noise isn’t as expansive as his other films, and perhaps that is why it works so well for him and brings his voice to a wider audience. Ultimately, Everything Else Is Noise is a very good film and another singular and compelling addition to Pereda’s distinctive body of work.