Karla is a dreamer, Karla is charismatic, and Karla is trans. She grows up with her parents in the small Mexican town of Tepoztlán. She loves to wear make-up and dress up. But sometimes, when the world is too much for her, she hides in her room for hours. Fortunately, Karla has friends and a family who support, often understand and sometimes challenge her.
Trans filmmaker Kani Lapuerta followed the daily life and transition of his protagonist over a period of eight years. The result is a colourful, playful and political coming-of-age story told from a trans perspective. Together, Karla and Kani create a cinematic space where their fantasy is as important as their identity – and where both flow into each other. The title of the film refers to a possible gender-neutral form of the Spanish term “niños” that also includes non-binary, trans and gender-fluid children. “Niñxs” is a touching, encouraging film about childhood, creativity and self-empowerment – and a compelling plea for a world in which everyone is simply allowed to be themselves.

“Do not attempt to reason with this movie. It is raving mad and makes no sense at all.” Aria Covamonas places this announcement right at the start of this wild cutout animation ride through Chinese and Western history (of philosophy) – and keeps their word. Countless figures appear in seemingly arbitrary order who, with no discernible common thread, condemn to death, argue or flirt – but do it in the most absurd and funny way. At one point, for example, Plato appears, who must be bathed by the elephants because he spent too much time in his cave. But Mao, Mickey Mouse, Nietzsche and Lacan also make appearances. They are all taken from the public domain, as are the Chinese dialogues which issue from their mouths, edited by rhythm; the English subtitles have nothing to do with them.
According to Covamonas, any interpretation is possible – and welcome. Nonetheless, themes begin to emerge: The arbitrary use of violence that characterises every authoritarian regime is lampooned, and so is the absurdity of every canon. But Covamonas, too, is influenced by it: A visual homage to Dadaistic collage art à la Hannah Höch, an acoustic reference to the noise of early sound films, this exuberant treasure-trove of sampled global culture can be thoroughly enjoyed and invites us to discover references while drifting through it.