Stream It Or Skip It: ‘Lorena, Light-Footed Woman’ on Netflix, a Breathtaking Short Documentary About a Mexican Ultramarathon Runner

Netflix may have another serious Oscar contender on its hands with Lorena, Light-Footed Woman — or Lorena, la de pies ligeros in its native Spanish — a documentary short about a long-distance runner from a remote region of Mexico. The film may be short, but it’s long on inspiration and breathtaking cinematography. Will it be just another doc in the Netflix catalog, or will it have legs deep into awards season?

LORENA, LIGHT-FOOTED WOMAN: STREAM IT OR SKIP IT?

The Gist: Lorena Ramirez can run. Not like Forrest Gump or runs, or Shelly-Ann Fraser-Pryce runs. She can run and run and run and run. For miles and miles and miles and miles. In ultramarathons, organized cross-country races that go far beyond regular marathons. She runs through city streets, runs up rocky trails, runs along dirt roads, runs over rope bridges traversing great and beautiful gorges. Her sandals smack the ground; her long skirts flutter in the breeze.

Sandals? Long skirts? Yes. Sandals. Long skirts.

At the beginning of a race, a low-angle shot pans over competitors’ feet. Nike, New Balance, sandals, Adidas, another pair of sandals. Another pair? Yes. Another pair. But this is Lorena’s story. She lives along the Tarahumara mountain range in Chihuahua, Mexico. She shares a tin-roofed shack with her father — also an ultramarathon runner — and mother and a bevy of siblings. The boys trek five miles one way to school. The girls stay home and tend the goats, owls and other animals. Her mother chips corn from the cob and grills tortillas atop the hearth. Here’s a shot of Lorena, in a gorgeous, unfenced field, and a black stallion gallops by.

In voiceovers and interviews, Lorena speaks in the slow, steady, cautious murmur of the painfully shy. She’s won a few ultramarathons. So has her father. She’s been invited to Spain, Japan and Argentina to run. On the city streets, people ask for photographs. “Smile, Lorena,” her admirers implore, but that’s something she rarely does. She’s reserved, serious, stoic. Does that mean she’s unhappy? Not necessarily. Back at home, she shows off a few of her many, many medals. They tinkle like wind chimes. Nobody asks about her training regimen, but it’s all there in the cinematography: clean air, a crisp brook, rugged terrain, high altitudes. Her life is her training regimen. She was born to… run? Yes. Born to run.

Performance Worth Watching: Lorena. Lorena Lorena Lorena. To watch her run is to love her. And the cinematographer, Hatuey Viveros, who captures her running so beautifully, enabling our ability to love her.

Memorable Dialogue: Lorena, when given a pair of running shoes as a gift: “I don’t think l’ll use them. The people who do are always running behind me,” she says, cracking a rare smile.

Sex and Skin: None.

Our Take: In a film whose subject says very little but whose actions speak volumes, the pictures say it all. Director Juan Carlos Rulfo captures the near-surreal contrast of Lorena’s extremely pastoral life with scenes of her, pre-race, in cities polluted with noise, light and concrete. Yet nothing about the film seems overstated — Rulfo skillfully employs a score of swelling, dramatic strings to enhance the epic tone of her story, allows us to take a few deep breaths while taking in the beautiful scenery, gives us a glimpse into Lorena’s plaintive and mysterious eyes.

What the film lacks is context: the indigenous people of the Tarahumara are known for their endurance running. They hunt game not with weapons, but by running it to death. They don’t train or accept sponsorships like many other runners. Is it a culture that subjugates women? I surely think so. That may explain the sandals and skirt, although Lorena says she doesn’t want gaudy running shoes, and says she doesn’t feel like herself without a skirt. Her dad — or brother, it’s not certain — wears red Nikes. I bet they’re light as a feather. I bet their feet and knees don’t hurt as much as Lorena’s, after running 68 miles. I bet they didn’t win three ultramarathons by the age of 22, either.

But what the film has in spades is poetry. It doles out just enough minimalist detail and statistics to get by. It’s not about drama or tension. It doesn’t lead up to a big race. Its footage of Lorena crossing the finish line — in first place, of course — is matter-of-fact, not manipulative. It’s just what Lorena does. Lorena, Light-Footed Woman is a beautiful snapshot of a her life. You won’t forget it soon.

Our Call: STREAM IT. Then stream it again. Lorena, Light-Footed Woman is quite possibly the best documentary short of 2019.

John Serba is a freelance writer and film critic based in Grand Rapids, Michigan. Read more of his work at johnserbaatlarge.com or follow him on Twitter: @johnserba.

Stream Lorena, Light-Footed Woman on Netflix