
The Sexy, Surreal Spanish Soap Opera of Rains Over Babel
Film Reviews
Sundance Film Review: Rains Over Babel
Director: Gala del Sol
Gala del Sol Films
Premiere: 01.26
In the Old Testament, Babel was a spiraling tower in the center of Babylon, reaching up to the heavens as a symbol of unity. Oxford Dictionary defines Babel as “a confused and discordant medley of sounds.” For Colombian creative director Gala del Sol, Babel is a hyperactive, tropical-punk dive bar that’s more than meets the eye. Existing as an almost a checkpoint between this world and the next, the grungy raw alkaline of zesty flamenco and alleyway garage rock is electrified, as the young bodies are moving, the drugs stay lethal and spirits come to wager their souls away. So throw back your “elixir of life” and let the music take you as you’re dragged down into the blacklight purgatory of Rains Over Babel.
This split-lanes anthology follows a handful of rebellious misfits all on their separate journeys for self-acceptance and/or eternal damnation. We have the preacher’s son (William Hurtado, You, Too) deviating from a conservative upbringing into a nightlife of glamorous drag expression. There’s the club owner’s son Timbí (Jose Mojica), along with an ass-kicking biker chick known as “Deep Purple” (Celina Biurrun, Corona Viral Monologues) and her wise-ass talking salamander Rosa hunting down tonight’s salsa act, “El Callegüeso.” (Jacobo Velez). There’s the soul-collecting soldier (Felipe Aguilar Rodríguez) chasing down a rogue spirit while trying to piece together his past life. Each one of them congregates in our fever dream bar setting to settle deals with La Flaca (Saray Rebolledo, Love of My Life), the seductive temptress of Death herself, or to find oneself out on the dancefloor. All misfortunes or spiritual achievement is overseen by “El Boticario” (Santiago Pineda), our quiet, yet concentrated barkeeper that seems to be pulling the strings… Are you paying attention now?
Now, crossroad stories like these might lose their audience through misleads or a 10-second break from looking at the subtitles. Fortunately, Rains Over Babel is like sticky rat traps to los ojos. Its urban landscape of Colombian ghettos and club crawls, tossed in with some magical realism, makes it feel like fantasy. Sol calls the dingy aesthetic “tropical-punk,” which I couldn’t agree with more! That South American, sweltering beachfront contrasted with the graffiti buildings and dark alleyway nightlife feels so organic. Driven home with hidden sexuality and religious communiqué, it feels like neo-gothic American Gods using the cast from Skins, directed to an anti-establishing splendor by Salvador Dalí. There’s the beauty of daydreaming and the horrors of bad tripping — this feature fits snugly right in between.
If I were to give my criticism, I would say the story itself seems a bit quick in its finale. Without spoilers, the entanglement of side stories wraps up with the hand wash of all the messes, flash title card, roll credits, thank your audience for coming, the end! You’re dealing with literal gods gambling with lives with an eternity of servitude, just to finish with a very convenient conclusion. Even the demigod Gilgamesh conquered Utnapishtim after seven days in the Mesopotamian epic, and that was an endurance test on insomnia. Such incredible stories with omnipotent dramatis personae should not meet such a bummer final act.
To wrap up the Sundance Film Festival 2025, Rains Over Babel is now my gold standard. Something so dramatic, arthouse-y, colorful and experimental as this flick is the reason we love independent filmmaking. We crave feature presentations to break all molds and go beyond all production restraints — that’s what it means to make a movie! No matter the budget, the advertisements or the endorsements, your flick is bound to nosedive if you don’t have heart and soul. And trust me, Rains Over Babel has a knapsack of soul amulets to go around!
By the way, if the Academy is in search of an actual entertaining movie that tackles social issues with a diverse cast from South America, you know Emilia Perez is not it. Time to bin it! —Alton Barnhart
Read more of SLUG’s coverage of the 2025 Sundance Film Festival.