DIRECTOR: Diego Ortuño
STARRING: Bruno Odar, Wolframio Sinue, Gael Ortuno, Alex Cisneros, Monica Mancero
RUNNING TIME: 1 hr 36 minutes
LANGUAGE: Spanish, Quechua
PRODUCTION COMPANY:
Dominio Digital (Ecuador)
Audiovisual Films (Peru)
Clack Audiovisual (Spain)
Retrogusto Films (Canada)
Huella Estudio (Ecuador)
PLOT: At the close of the 19th century, a mysterious boy arrives in a remote Andean village. Nicanor, the local priest, soon discovers the child’s blood has the power to make barren fields bloom with abundance, but to keep him alive, it must be nourished with human blood.
GENRE: Horror
FILMING LOCATION: Cayambe, Ecuador
To check out all previous submissions for Ecuador, click HERE.
STARRING: Bruno Odar, Wolframio Sinue, Gael Ortuno, Alex Cisneros, Monica Mancero
RUNNING TIME: 1 hr 36 minutes
LANGUAGE: Spanish, Quechua
PRODUCTION COMPANY:
Dominio Digital (Ecuador)
Audiovisual Films (Peru)
Clack Audiovisual (Spain)
Retrogusto Films (Canada)
Huella Estudio (Ecuador)
PLOT: At the close of the 19th century, a mysterious boy arrives in a remote Andean village. Nicanor, the local priest, soon discovers the child’s blood has the power to make barren fields bloom with abundance, but to keep him alive, it must be nourished with human blood.
GENRE: Horror
FILMING LOCATION: Cayambe, Ecuador
To check out all previous submissions for Ecuador, click HERE.
FILM REVIEW:
(This review contains spoilers.)
“But for miracles to happen we must give something in return."
Diego Ortuño’s Chuzalongo is the kind of film that sneaks up on you, pulling you into its world with an eerie mix of folklore and moral tension. Set in an Andean village at the close of the 19th century, it has the rhythm of a legend passed down through generations but is filmed with the intimacy of human drama. What struck me most is how Ortuño never pushes too hard on the horror elements, instead, he lets the story breathe in the silences, in the rituals, in the weight of the mountains looming over the villagers.
The plot sounds simple enough: a mysterious boy arrives, and soon Nicanor, the priest, realizes that his blood can make crops grow in abundance. But there’s a catch: the boy can only survive if he is fed human blood. As soon as this discovery is made, the village starts to fracture, torn between gratitude for the miracle and fear of its cost. Bruno Odar, who plays Nicanor, carries this moral dilemma on his shoulders with quiet intensity, showing us a man who is both protector and participant in what unfolds.
The film is breathtaking. The Andean landscape feels alive, sometimes generous, sometimes threatening, and Ortuño knows exactly how to use it to reflect the mood of the story. The long, still shots of fields or misty mountains aren’t just pretty, they remind us how small the villagers are compared to the forces they believe govern their lives. Odar’s performance anchors this atmosphere, bringing a gravity that keeps the film grounded even as it dips into the supernatural.
Chuzalongo is less about a supernatural boy than about the villagers themselves, the choices they make, the boundaries they cross, and the cost of their faith when survival is at stake. Ortuño shows how the promise of abundance blinds the community to the moral decay festering within it, forcing each character to confront where they stand between devotion and corruption. Bruno Odar’s Nicanor becomes the embodiment of this struggle, torn between his duty as a spiritual guide and the crushing temptation of earthly survival. By the time the film reaches its harrowing conclusion, what remains is not a tale of miracles, but a meditation on complicity and sacrifice. The film’s true power lies in its exploration of how far a community will go to preserve life, even if it means surrendering its own humanity.
(This review contains spoilers.)
“But for miracles to happen we must give something in return."
Diego Ortuño’s Chuzalongo is the kind of film that sneaks up on you, pulling you into its world with an eerie mix of folklore and moral tension. Set in an Andean village at the close of the 19th century, it has the rhythm of a legend passed down through generations but is filmed with the intimacy of human drama. What struck me most is how Ortuño never pushes too hard on the horror elements, instead, he lets the story breathe in the silences, in the rituals, in the weight of the mountains looming over the villagers.
The plot sounds simple enough: a mysterious boy arrives, and soon Nicanor, the priest, realizes that his blood can make crops grow in abundance. But there’s a catch: the boy can only survive if he is fed human blood. As soon as this discovery is made, the village starts to fracture, torn between gratitude for the miracle and fear of its cost. Bruno Odar, who plays Nicanor, carries this moral dilemma on his shoulders with quiet intensity, showing us a man who is both protector and participant in what unfolds.
The film is breathtaking. The Andean landscape feels alive, sometimes generous, sometimes threatening, and Ortuño knows exactly how to use it to reflect the mood of the story. The long, still shots of fields or misty mountains aren’t just pretty, they remind us how small the villagers are compared to the forces they believe govern their lives. Odar’s performance anchors this atmosphere, bringing a gravity that keeps the film grounded even as it dips into the supernatural.
Chuzalongo is less about a supernatural boy than about the villagers themselves, the choices they make, the boundaries they cross, and the cost of their faith when survival is at stake. Ortuño shows how the promise of abundance blinds the community to the moral decay festering within it, forcing each character to confront where they stand between devotion and corruption. Bruno Odar’s Nicanor becomes the embodiment of this struggle, torn between his duty as a spiritual guide and the crushing temptation of earthly survival. By the time the film reaches its harrowing conclusion, what remains is not a tale of miracles, but a meditation on complicity and sacrifice. The film’s true power lies in its exploration of how far a community will go to preserve life, even if it means surrendering its own humanity.
