The documentary “Chocolate Country” tells the story of the Loma Guacanejo cooperative, an alliance formed in the backcountry of the Dominican Republic to secure better profits for farmers while protecting the local rainforest. Somewhere between a trade union and an entrepreneurial enterprise, the group has injected a shot of enthusiasm into a sleepy rural community. The charismatic Ludovina, hair decked out in huge plastic curlers, leaves her three kids in the care of her elderly mom so she can work as a buyer for the cooperative. Meanwhile her mother, prone to inexplicable fits of laughter, shares a recipe for home-style hot cocoa. Bachata guitarist Rene, his house half wrecked by a hurricane, wonders how he’ll ever send his sons to school, while eighty-year-old Esperanza, whose grandfather once owned the entire hillside, observes the cooperative’s changes from his front porch with cautious optimism.

The film moves from barnyard to schoolhouse, from kitchen to forest, registering the hopes and fears of local families. Along the way, it tells the story of chocolate itself – from pod, to bean, to powder, to delicacy. This most familiar of foods becomes strange as we see and hear the beans, encased in a sticky white syrup, shucked from their shells with machetes and packed off on burros. Woven throughout is a soundtrack of old-time bachatas, merengues, rancheros and ballads, played on broken guitars by the calloused hands of farmers – accompanied by teenagers on cheese-graters and spoons. Somewhere between the Buena Vista Social Club and the Carter Family, the front porch performances that punctuate the story open up a rich musical world largely invisible to even the Dominican mainstream. They culminate in a rainstorm, where the musicians sing louder to drown out the raindrops on the corrugated tin roof. Outside, children frolic in puddles. For a moment, the global economy is furthest from our minds. Then Ramon, the young cooperative leader, begins to speak, reminding us in his subtle way that the future of these children depends on the value of chocolate.

What the Loma Guacanejo cooperative is fighting for amounts to a win-win situation for consumers and growers. For consumers, it provides an alternative to the unsanitary and unappetizing conditions of conventional production, where cacao is dried on roadside tarps and exposed to rain, mold, car exhaust and wandering livestock. For growers, it promises a fairer, more direct relationship with the marketplace, and a better income for households where running water is still a rarity and electricity a far-off dream.