“31 Minutes” keeps coming back because its mix of absurd humor, tenderness, a sharp view of the world and a humanity without morals formed a generational bond that cannot be replicated. With Calurosa Navidad, his new original production for Prime Video, this universe of craftsmanship – capable of transforming a can, a sock or a piece of metal into an unforgettable figure – expands again. Alejandra Neumann, Managing Director and Social Producer of Aplaplac, looks back on the history, the materiality of the project and the horizontal spirit that characterizes two decades of collective work. His gaze illuminates what 31 Minutes retains: the ability to make comedy without cynicism, trusting that any object can be a puppet and that any character, no matter how absurd, can reveal something deeply human.
After two decades of existence, 31 Minutes managed something strange: staying true to itself without repeating itself. This coherence is explained by its artisanal origins, the creative freedom of the team and the belief that absurd humor can coexist with a deeply human sensitivity. With this logic, it’s almost self-evident that the comparison to the Muppets keeps coming up. Neumann himself says: “Anyway. Pedro and Álvaro have been friends for many years and have already collaborated on very ironic, almost irreverent humor projects, with the idea that things are as they are and that there is no reason to disguise them. When this was transferred to the 31-minute universe, which contains fantasy and characters with human virtues and flaws, they brought the same honesty to the world of puppets. The characters feel real things, they won’t glossed over.” or exaggerated: even “The villain has a moment of sensitivity.” This truth, along with the fantasy, defined everything that came after.
This mix of humanity and absurdity is one of the characteristics that has allowed the program to become an emotional tool for different generations. Unlike other children’s content, 31 Minutes never opted for a sequel. And yet, in the end, it showed possible growth paths.
Authoritarians don’t like that
The practice of professional and critical journalism is a mainstay of democracy. That is why it bothers those who believe that they are the owners of the truth.
—One of the magic of 31 Minutes is that it doesn’t teach from a didactic perspective, but shows how to be human. How do you see it?
—I don’t think 31 Minutes was ever intended to “teach” anything, but it shows you how things are. The characters experience situations that anyone could experience. There’s not this adult voice saying, “Guys, listen.” However, when a child sees it, he inevitably absorbs something: how to react, how to get angry, how to get back on his feet. There is a constant humanity, a very simple and very beautiful idea of resilience: we are human and we can still have a good time.
—Over the years, the show’s visual appearance has shaped as much as its humor. The materiality of 31 Minutes – its threads, textures, recycled objects, unlikely mixtures – became an aesthetic identity recognizable across the continent. And none of this was the result of a sophisticated plan: it came from the freedom to transform anything into a character. There is a very particular aesthetic: this “Latin bazaar” of dolls, textures and materials. They never denied that. What does this materiality mean to you?
—There is the original idea: everything is a puppet. We take what a child does with a toy to the extreme. In the 31 Minutes Museum there is a section called “Everything is a Puppet,” and that is to be understood literally: any object that you can move and give personality to becomes a character. Many of the dolls are cans, rustic objects or solid pieces. No matter: if you give it humor, history, liveliness, it comes to life. This creative freedom is a trademark.
However, the heart of the project has always been his team. Part of the emotional impact that 31 Minutes creates comes from the collaborative way they work. There are no rigid hierarchies: there is a constant movement with creativity emerging from every corner of the set. Neumann has seen it for decades: “The team. We’ve changed some people, of course, but what sustains us is real teamwork. Nothing is vertical, there’s no idea of the director as an all-powerful figure in front of a paralyzed set. Everyone can contribute, and when someone new comes along, it takes a while to understand that they can really say something. But when it happens, it’s incredible. This horizontality is inspiring for everyone.” Generational change is another phenomenon that has been inextricably linked for 31 minutes. The songs, characters and stories expanded their natural lives and passed from hand to hand. Warm Christmases come precisely when a legacy is renewed without losing its essence.
—31 Minutes became a generational bridge: Anyone who saw it twenty years ago today shares it with their children or nephews. How do you live this continuity?
—It’s exciting. This film will bring joy to both the old and new generation. It’s a family film to laugh, think about and remember the essence of Christmas. In that sense it is classic. And it’s also a very 31 minutes: absurd, tender, honest.
And although two decades are enough to make any process rigid, at Aplaplac the opposite is the case: the working dynamic remains a mix of creative chaos, intense collaboration and an enthusiasm that shatters any notion of traditional production. Is there an anecdote or image that sums up who you are as a team? Neumann: “It’s more than an anecdote, it’s an image. On tours you suddenly see the director hanging up a cloth to cover something, me as the executive producer putting structures together, the puppeteers, moving the equipment. We all do everything. In Chile we call it the “Chamorro circus”: this chaos in which everyone does their part to make sure everything goes well. This image represents what we were twenty years ago and what we continue to be.”