Los últimos (2023), or The Last, directed by Sebastian Peña Escobar, frequently returns to the visual motif of a neon-green bug screen. Attracted by the bright, tempting light, the moths and other diminutive many-winged creatures land on an expansive sheath of translucent fabric, and sometimes they crowd so densely, the net disappears. They vary in size, wingspan, and shape, but they all gather on their great, green perch.
The other great, green land that the film explores is Paraguay, parts of which have been decimated by wildfires and deforestation. So begins Escobar’s directorial documentary feature, which was Paraguay’s 2024 unselected entry for the Academy Awards’ Best International Feature. The film was also included in the 2025 International Feature Film Festival programming.
The film follows German entomologist Ulf Drechsel and Paraguayan ornithologist Jota Escobar as they drive toward Paraguay’s Gran Chaco natural region, untouched by the deforestation and wildfires that threaten to encroach on the area. Through the director’s lens, the Paraguayan setting brims with life, and it trades quiet, observant shots of the environment with secondhand glimpses of this environment through Drechsel’s and Jota Escobar’s perspective.
Los últimos takes on a hybrid experimental-conventional documentary style. While interviews and nonfictional accounts define the piece, the film depends almost exclusively on its two subjects and their environment. It rarely leaves their sides to enliven the topic with other voices, and you won’t find talking heads or archival footage here. Instead, often we hear about the world through Drechsel and Jota Escobar, who turn toward the camera to comment directly on the setting around them. Their perspective becomes the one of reason, evidence, analysis, and comedy—all at once.
If the film ever advances beyond their voices, it focuses instead on the intriguing, first-person narration of Sebastian Peña Escobar’s voice, which whispers over images of heavily forested areas, misty with the rain that won’t put out the raging fires.
While these intriguing storytelling devices complement the film’s introspective attitude, they also weigh the narrative down under constant, confined interrogation from Drechsel and Jota Escobar. That’s not to say these characters aren’t entertaining; but one can’t help but be curious about the greater implications of this voyage and this part of Paraguay, especially with a topic such as climate change. To what extent does the world know about this slice of devastation? Is the Paraguayan government aware of the effects of this ruination?
Unfortunately, the film leaves these questions unanswered, and the film’s essential message—that we are all in this together, on this great, green patch of land—loses its power through the intentional isolation of its perspective.
Still, the film is a beautiful reminder of our mesmerizing world. The black-and-white glow of night vision images capture small animals that cross their path. The camera catches the hooked arms of a beetle as it climbs up the screen; it rolls over a brown field dotted with tail-flicking cows. And a modest score narrates the trio’s journey—mellow hymns and meditative synths, like the hum of insects that gather around the light.
Though flawed, this careful, attentive filmmaking allows Jota Escobar’s and Drechsel’s conversation to remain its central force—as freewheeling, critical, imperfect, distracted, or disappointed as those discussions about humanity, climate change, and our future on this planet might be.
Review Courtesy of Arleigh Rodgers
Image Courtesy of Bocacha Films via Cinema Tropical