I must admit that I have always been extremely curious about the role of grandparents. I feel passionate about their lives, their lapidary phrases, their anecdotes, their way of facing the world as if they were the only ones living in it, and, for the most part, their ability to be the most loved people on the planet. I have always felt an unconditional love for them, therefore, I wanted to draw inspiration from my own environment, my own grandmas, those of my friends, those I see walking the streets of my small town, to develop a crazy and tender comedy in equal parts, which aims to be a breeze of hope in a world, sometimes dark, in which the elderly do not have all the space they deserve.

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It was during the lockdown that one of my best friends told me the story that would end up becoming one of my most personal projects: her two grandmothers had moved in together for a while to keep each other company and take care of each other. The stream of hilarious scenes about their disastrous cohabitation that she used to tell me every week was endless. It was a full-fledged comedy, but it also suffered from emotional moments – at least, that's what I felt from the outside... knowing that there is always something new to discover, something new to experience, to feel, new people to welcome into our lives, no matter how old we are.

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It was then that I began to think about growing old, about losing the ones we love, about losing all hope, about how hard it must be to feel alone, so much so that it can cloud all the positive things in our lives. I realized how important it is to surround ourselves with vitamin people, especially as we get older; people who make us see that life goes on, that it is never too late, that until the final curtain falls there is always room for a new and exciting adventure, we just have to believe and let ourselves go. That is the main objective of Abuelas. In a way, I canalized all those fears I’m starting to develop as I’m growing old into these characters – Marisa and Dolores’ struggles are a portrait of what I fear the most for me but also for the people I love.

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Without a doubt, one of the main reasons I wanted to tell this story is related to what I believe is one of the greatest things movies and TV shows can accomplish – visibility. The value of Abuelas lies in the need to give the elderly a place on the screens. It's not that they don't have it, don't get me wrong, but that space in most cases is reduced, especially for old ladies, to a mere accompaniment, a necessary vehicle for the personal development of others, but very rarely are they the protagonists. Watching a movie and thinking: "I am that character", or "This person is going through the same thing that is happening to me, they’re feeling the same as I do" – that reflection, that feeling of "I am not alone" or "I am not a freak", is essential for our development as human beings, it validates our feelings, allows us to accept them and move forward, because we feel that there is someone else accompanying us throughout the way.

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I would love that, besides being seen on screen, these old ladies – big consumers of TV and film – feel that their daily conflicts are also explored, that what worries them, what makes them happy, what hurts them is also important – demonstrating that the things that happen to us when we get older are also worth seeing, crying and laughing about. These grandpas and grandmas are also the protagonists of their own stories and deserve to see them.

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Above all, Abuelas is a story about friendship, about growing old and still being able to feel that there’s a lot left for us, and that it is never too late for anything, that sometimes we find incredible things if we open up. And at the end of the day, it is also a story about how cool it is to be a grandma.