And not only celebrate, but also talk about the movie, debate and write about the movie, watch the movie all together, push the movie and reclaim it. In this way, we may be able to get the film to last, to go beyond the immediate – prizes and premieres, lists of the best films of the year – and to become a model for future projects.

Niñato is the first feature film by Adrián Or (Madrid, 1981). The film presents us to David Ransanz, a 30-year-old hip hop musician named “Niñato”. But above all, David will introduce us to the relationships he maintains with his family: Mimi, Oro and Luna in the life she shares with children and their parents and sister Eli. In fact, Or's camera will enter the house of the Ransanz, in two adjacent small dwellings located in a suburb of Madrid. The film is a cinematographic portrait close to a complex network of care – without concealing that this network is carried out above all by women in the family.

Niñato has been awarded at numerous international festivals. Nyon, Buenos Aires, Quito or Sevilla, among others. However, we must look for the origin of the film far beyond this successful tour, which took place in 2013. In that same year the director made the short film Good morning resistance. This whole piece is the only scene in the movie Niñato. There we will see Mimi, Oro and Luna waking up. "Good morning," David murmured. In the room that's still dark, we look at the children's movements. Gradually they will get dressed, still with their eyes closed. They don't want to wake it up. They don't want to dress. They don't want to go to school. Daily resistance is a ritual. Niñato ends with a new infant's milk. The phone's alarm will sound, the eyes will open. Three years have passed, the children have grown up in the film before our eyes, but we will slowly see them waking up again on a normal day. These two awakenings mark the times of Niñato. Two times at a time. A linear time – during the six years that the director lived with the Ransanz family – and a circular time – regular repetitive gestures that he creates in the effective assembly carried out by Ana Pfaff. The inevitable passage of time and the circularity of everyday life. And at the intersection between the two, we found resistance, this time, real resistance. Dignity of moving forward together. The safest thing is that this is the key reading that gives us the title Good Days resistance: Niñato is the portrait of the most elemental resistance. The resistance of everyday life.

One of the most important elements of Niñato to perform this portrait is: Where it is, from where it rolls. In order to describe this place, we have to bring to light some of the director's decisions. To begin with, a special “interior” in the film. Niñato is not a conventional “social film” in which a “committed director” visits a neighborhood and portrays an exotic reality as if it were almost ethnographer. There is an organic and direct dimension in Niñato: He is one of the best friends of director David, who was also part of the same band of music. So Orr is rolling his neighborhood, his world. But being from the same world does not guarantee anything. The challenge is to visualize this closeness and the merit, in this case, lies in the cinematographic decisions taken by the director to achieve it. There are two strong decisions, among others: the director has made the camera and has only used a fixed 50 mm lens to roll. This way the portrait is made literally at a fair distance. As filmmaker Johan van der Keuk said, the fundamental question of any film scene of reality is to negotiate a distance: “How to cross the ten meters between me and the other, how to get to be in the same space… I film at a distance that I can usually touch, at a distance that I can be touched. And there, besides touching, I can not be accepted.” The search for the space shared by the filmmaker, the camera and the protagonists, the negotiation of this distance, is Niñato’s basic cinematographic problem. You had to learn to settle in a very precise place, not so far as to feel a voyeur, nor as close as to be a stranger. The result is a singular closeness built through cinema.

Another great decision of the director is not to explain anything explicitly, that everything is perceived. On the protagonists, for example, there is not much information, nor is the relationship between them clear. We only know the characters through their small words and actions. And that's enough, we live with them. The same is true of the historical moment. In fact, some criticisms have accused the film of a lack of "context" in the film. However, what is said in half a word is often more powerful than what is imposed. The six years of filming the film coincide with the M15 movement and its subsequent lives, as well as with the implementation of programmes to reduce and increase the effects of the crisis. In an interview, Or reports that the decision not to make a direct reference to this situation has been intentioned. Although we do not see it, David and his girlfriend participated in the M15 movement and at some point the director was about to enter a direct reference, adding in some scene the sound of a television news. In the end, he put aside the idea and it was to avoid the explicit wager. Or I didn’t want to turn the “crisis” into the decor of a story. How, then, can that particular era be seen throughout the film? How do you make a movie about day-to-day resistance in precariousness? In this case, the motion picture has to do with space.

In Niñato, historical time is shown through the treatment of everyday spaces. There the characters live together, they love each other, they argue, they dream, they learn. The urbanist Edward Soy said that there is no reality or social process out of space. Social relations, as Soy explains, become real and precise when they are produced in a living space. It is also Niñato: a collection of lived spaces. The scenes of the film take place in a small space repertoire – a world of love and anger, small and close to the same scale of the neighborhood – especially the small adjoining homes where David’s family lives, but also the way from home to school, a drive or subway ride, or a couple of short exits to a bar. While the protagonists of Niñato walk through the small inhabited spaces, their conversations partially outline a constellation of small resistances. At the door of the school, for example, David talks to other parents about the difficulty of paying for the dining room; and laughing, suddenly they create a “midday club” to give the children to eat at home. The same can be said of the comments made by Eli, sister of David, who struggles to consolidate a job in the precarious maze of the Spanish university. We see a radical day to day: the resistance and dignity of the protagonists contaminate the material world nearby, the everyday spaces.

We must demand a gesture in Niñato: its consistency. In addition to claiming the unconscious dignity of everyday life, it is a very small film in itself: short duration, without institutional support, based on the small economy of formal and technical resources. Perhaps that is why it is such a sincere proposal. There are few movies like Niñato.