Manna

I grew up in the south of the Dominican Republic, a region that has profoundly shaped the way I see the world. While dreaming of becoming a filmmaker, I was constantly surrounded by stories that rarely found their way to the screen. I often wondered why landscapes so familiar to me, and the people who inhabited them, remained almost invisible in cinema.

When my friend and cinematographer Miriam Ouchi shared the idea of a story set in a coastal town in the south, I immediately felt a personal connection. Filming in Baní confirmed what had drawn me there from the beginning. It is a place of striking contrasts: the vastness of the sea, dry roads, and open plains exist alongside a dense, restless town where daily life unfolds under constant economic pressure. That landscape became inseparable from Terrero’s inner world.

What interests me is not the spectacle of poverty or the drama of migration, but the quiet moments that precede a life-changing decision. I explore gestures, routines, silences, and to the emotional tension that accumulates almost imperceptibly. In El Maná, the landscape is not simply observed; it becomes another character, reflecting the contradictions that shape Terrero’s life.