The Kaqchikel villagers, like other Mayans, practice a mixture of Catholicism and the traditional Maya religion, worshiping the Christian God while also making offerings to the goddess that they believe lives in the volcano.
Pepe agrees to take her to America after he has been paid for the harvest but, after finding his wages have been consumed by his drinks bill at the company owned bar, leaves without telling her and owing debts.
"[6] Bustamante commented that the film's subtitles did not convey the full richness of the dialogue, noting that in Kaqchikel the word ixcanul means not only volcano, but also "the internal force of the mountain which boils looking for eruption".
Indigenous people have historically been portrayed in films as exotic, primitive, and backward, perpetuating colonialist stereotypes and erasing their diversity and complexity as distinct cultural groups.
[13] However, author Milton Fernando Gonzalez Rodriguez points out there has been a shift toward more nuanced and respectful portrayals of indigenous cultures and histories in Latin American cinema.
Similarly, in their review of the film, the collective Oxlajuj Ajpop, a non-governmental organization focused on studying Kaqchikel (Maya) language and culture, notes that "Ixcanul continues a centuries-long tradition of representing the 'other' through an exoticizing and fetishizing lens.
[19] Ed Frankel wrote in a laudatory review: "Guatemala's first-ever entry for the foreign language Oscar is an absorbing, beautifully-shot drama of cultural ritual and the drive of one young woman to escape a rudimentary social system.
"[21] Alex Midgal wrote in The Globe & Mail: "Like its titular Guatemalan volcano, Jayro Bustamante's hypnotic film debut Ixcanul bubbles with the tension of a teenage girl at odds with her family's native customs, before erupting into a frantic and quietly devastating third act.
[23] The critic Frank Ochieng wrote in his review: "Writer-director Jayro Bustamante's absorbing and revealing debut feature, Ixcanul, paints a disturbing portrait that crosses the fine line between tradition and exploitation in the name of the Guatemalan children sacrificed to uphold economical expectations among other considerations.
The indigenous existences of children globally are jeopardized through ritualistic justifications that many find vehemently inexcusable and horrifying... Ironically, the only true element that is systematically explosive about Ixcanul is not the proximity of the aforementioned volcano, but the voiceless and powerless minor that does not have a decent say about the psychological and physical loaning of her body to the highest child-exploitive bidder.
"[24] David Lewis wrote in his review: "Ixcanul, which takes place near a volcano in Guatemala, is a lyrical film that plays like a well-done National Geographic special — until it unexpectedly turns lava-hot.
Throughout, Ixcanul impresses with its attention to detail, chronicling the daily routines of a Mayan coffee-farming village, an isolated place where cars, cell phones and televisions appear to be nonexistent.
After being taken to a hospital, healthcare workers manipulate the language barrier between them and Maria's family to seize her baby, telling her that it died and giving them a coffin with a brick wrapped in cloth in place of the body.
Don Birnam wrote: "It is stunning that, by the end of the film, one is so immersed into the lives of these characters, of their culture and traditions, that when they are thrust into what should be (for us) the more comfortable space of the city and modern civilization, the contrast is jarring and unsettling.
In doing so, the movie touches upon many of the challenges and injustices faced by indigenous American peoples, including their inability to communicate, their lack of access to medicine, and more brutal things like corruption at the hands of authorities".
"[30] In a review for The Asahi Shimbun, Claudia Puig wrote: "Ixcanul is a mesmerizing, intimate and meditative coming-of- age tale that explores a culture rarely seen in films".
[31] Justin Chang in the Los Angeles Times wrote: "Yet even as it moves from tender ethnographic portraiture into a realm of hushed, intimate tragedy, Ixcanul quivers with a fierce if understated feminine energy.
"[33] In a review in The New York Times, Jeannette Catsolius wrote: "More than a fable about the clash of tradition and modernity, Ixcanul is finally a painful illustration of the ease with which those who have power can prey on those who don't".
[34] Nathaniel Rogers wrote in his review: "The volcano, in addition to being a beautiful and alien visual backdrop for a movie is also a monolithic wall, blocking their view of the rest of the world; Mexico and the United States, to the North, are more myth than reality.
"[35] Sean Axmaker praised the film, writing: "The feature debut of Guatemalan filmmaker Jayro Bustamante is a beautiful and unsentimental portrait of traditional Mayan culture where peasants live in huts without electricity or running water and speak their native Kaqchikel, unable to communicate with the Spanish speakers from the nearby city without an interpreter... Like all of the cast members, Coroy is not a professional actress but her enigmatic face and impassive expression is mesmerizing and she communicates a longing for something more and the determination to stand up for herself.
"[36] Radheyan Simonpillai likewise praised the film, writing: "Whether we're closely gazing at Maria or watching her stride along the ashy volcano's side from a distance, Bustamante lets images linger long enough for their beauty to fall away, giving us a compelling and tragic look at where our coffee comes from.
"[37] Kelly Vance described the film as "Jayro Bustamante's gorgeously photographed Ixcanul is the ideal village-picture fable, as fascinating for its innate mythology as for its ethnography.
"[38] Michael Atkinson lauded the film, writing: "Touching on multiple feminist issues as it goes, and even venturing, gallingly, into the matter of baby trafficking, Ixcanul can suffer from predictability—Bustamante's desire to universalize Maria's arc sometimes makes it end up feeling familiar.
[40] Daniel Barnes wrote: "A frank depiction of sexuality is one of the film's strongest assets, but the attempts to force melodrama fall flat, and the protagonist is such a moon-faced cipher that it feels almost insultingly respectful.