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"Pandemic Bread"

I don't remember this.

I was very fortunate in my experience of the pandemic. I didn’t lose anyone, and while I did eventually get sick, it wasn’t too severe a case. It’s possible for me to look back on my personal version of those years through a kind of nostalgic and even intermittently rosy filter, as if the years were just made up of more time with my wife and oddities like sanitizing grocery deliveries.

That last item comes up a lot in pandemic reminiscing in media. Remember when we Lysol-wiped cereal boxes? Remember the toilet paper shortages? How droll! What a weird time!

It’s the kind of thing you smile about when you dodged all the worst bullets. (And never even ran out of toilet paper.)

Remember when everyone started making bread?

“Pandemic Bread,” the short film by Zeinabu Davis, remembers that—and everything else. This 2023 piece is wrapped in warm sunlight, a filter that burnishes even as it records. The worst this family is experiencing, it seems, is the anti-espresso-drip boredom of a glazed-eyed kid coasting through Zoom classes; this could have long-term ramifications, but we haven’t gotten to them yet. In the meantime, Princess Punzalan’s Luz acts as a remote Filipino-English hospital interpreter, taking calls while she—of course—sets about making her pandemic bread. Punzalan nails an instantly endearing combination of expressiveness and professional reserve, taking Luz through her first-person descriptions of one man’s priapism so that I laugh at her face but admire how her voice keeps the patient’s dignity intact.

Then she handles a call where an older woman, Becca Godinez’s Remedios, is dying of COVID pneumonia and, despite her doctor’s (Claire Simba) best and most earnest efforts, refusing intubation, and the golden aura of Luz’s kitchen is now interspersed with the clinical blue sheen of a hospital room, where the light winks off the doctor’s face shield. We’ve gone from the sensory pleasure of hands knuckling into dough to a touch-free blight. Remedios will die, and she won’t even die on what would be her own terms, sent home to be with her loved ones; the best the doctor can do, and the best Luz can pass on, is the offer to set up a FaceTime call. She’ll die alone, and the only person who can touch her can’t afford to do it without gloves on, because there are always more patients.

It’s a brutal turn, and Davis maximizes its effectiveness, at least for English-only viewers, through the simple choice of not translating Luz as she translates. We hear what the doctor says, and we take in the meaning, and then we’re left with Luz and Luz alone as she passes on the words, with no subtitles as visual clutter to distract from her face as she tries to keep herself from breaking down. As she bears witness.

She can go back to her bread and her family—what else is there to do?—but there’s no sense she can really shake the knowledge of what’s going on outside her orbit, where isolation is lonely, terrifying, and final, not an excuse for cozy, quirky domesticity. Even watching this makes that hard. You can’t turn it off and say, “Remember Tiger King?”

“Pandemic Bread” is streaming on the Criterion Channel.