Mexico Best Films

Enamorada – Melodrama at the Height of Mexico’s Golden Age

Enamorada Film Difficulty Ranking: 2

Enamorada is one of Mexico’s most iconic films, released at the height of the Mexican Golden Age of cinema. It’s also one of the most entertaining owing to the screwball romance of two stars at the height of their powers (Maria Felix and Pedro Armendariz) filled with slapstick gags. In the 10 years following the release of Alla en el Rancho Grande, Mexican dramas had: established a distinct style owing to cinematographer Gabriel Figueroa, developed a star system inspired by Hollywood, and continued to construct Mexican identity in the post-revolutionary years.

From: Mexico, North America
Watch: JustWatch, IMDb
Next: Doña Bárbara, Maria Candelaria, The Taming of the Shrew

The Director: Emilio Fernandez

It was a roller coaster journey that led Emilio Fernandez to become one of the most prolific directors of the Mexican Golden Age. He was born in Coahuila, closer to the U.S. than to the Mexican capital, but was brought into the political craziness by fighting alongside the northern generals in the Mexican revolution. As the revolution cooled down, Fernandez become disillusioned with the pro-U.S. actions of the Obregon government and revolted alongside de la Huerta. His participation in the uprising forced him into exile alongside de la Huerta in the U.S. After working odd-jobs in Texas and Chicago, Fernandez settled in Los Angeles, finding work as a stonemason for Hollywood studio construction and appearing as an extra in the occasional Hollywood film. His big moment came with the arrival of revolutionary filmmaker Sergei Eisenstein (Battleship Potemkin, October) from the USSR. Screenings of Eisenstein’s films and the fragments of Que Viva Mexico! (cobbled together posthumously in 1978) that Fernandez saw with his own eyes on the cutting room floor set his course for the Mexican film industry.

Fernandez was welcomed back to Mexico and to a film industry that was growing owing to the government of President Lazaro Cardenas which saw film as an opportunity to build national identity. Before taking to directing, he starred in Janitzio as the lead actor – one of the first sound films made in Mexico, and even appears in Alla en el Rancho Grande as a dancer. His directorial debut, La Isla de la Pasion, caught the eye of the Mexican film studio Films Mundiales, who brought him into the Mexican star system.

Five years later, and fresh off international success at Cannes with Maria Candelaria – a tragic tale from pre-revolutionary Mexico that won top prize at the Cannes film festival – Fernandez was one of the most sought after directors in town. To cement his reputation, he brought Mexican star system superstars Maria Felix (Dona Barbara) and Pedro Armendariz (Maria Candelaria) to Enamorada, and most importantly, the iconic style of one of the most important cinematographers in film history, Gabriel Figueroa.

The Iconic Style of Gabriel Figueroa

Sure, Enamorada recruited some of the biggest stars to make it an assured success. However, the secret sauce was cinematographer Gabriel Figueroa. He was the cinematic cornerstone behind the Mexican Golden Age, providing the cinematic visuals for all the big films from the start to the end, from Alla en el Rancho Grande (1936) to Macario (1960).

So where did an orphan that grew up in Mexico City at the height of the Mexican revolution find his style? One piece of the puzzle is legendary cinematographer, Gregg Toland (Citizen Kane). When the family fortune bequeathed to Figueroa ran dry, he was sent to the darkroom to make a living from still photography. His work caught the eye of a prominent politician who gave him a scholarship to study in Hollywood under Toland. It was here that he developed his chiaroscuro style from the deep focus and lighting Toland was known for (see below for a perfect example of Figueroa’s chiaroscuro style in Maria Candelaria below)

Maria Candelaria (1944)

To build his own style, Figueroa incorporated the powerful and bold images of the Mexican muralists. This integrated a distinctly Mexican artistic legacy that linked Figueroa’s style to the pre-Colombian Mayan artists at Bonampak (see here) and the modern, politically charged murals of Rivera, Orozco, and Siquieros amongst others. Compare the two images below and you can see how Figueroa used the bold dynamic styles of the modern muralists in his work to great effect.

Orozco, Zapatistas (1931) vs. Figeuroa, Maria Candelaria (1944)

Lastly, a quick shout-out to Figueroa for the following two incredible musical numbers in Enamorada.

Ave Maria sung by the church choir as General enters the church. Instead of just showing the choir or the General, Figueroa cuts between the two with images of the lavishly decorated cathedral ceiling to show the power of the church over everyone in Mexico regardless of class.
My personal favorite – La Malaguena Salerosa sung by a few mariachi hired by the General. The editing in this scene is gold – the extreme close up of the eyes of Maria Felix (Beatriz) as the music starts, and a camera which gradually pulls away from her as she loses her conceit. Then the shots of the General sweating and seen down below through the balustrades of Maria’s balcony – a class below, that Beatriz must descend for the future of Mexico!

Simply put, Gabriel Figueroa is a genius that is well worth his reputation amongst the greats.

Reinforcing Mexican identity

Just as Alla en el Rancho Grande romanticized the Porfirian haciendas of pre-revolutionary Mexico, Enamorada romanticized the revolution itself. The revolutionary trauma was still fresh and the brutality portrayed in earlier films like Vamonos con Pancho Villa (1936) brought back the horrors of the endless war. Instead of depicting the honest brutality of the revolution, Fernandez used it to evoke national pride, adding to the identity building that de la Fuentes started with Alla en el Rancho Grande.

How does he do it? He ties together the lives of a rough revolutionary general with a spoiled daughter of a wealthy landowner in Cholula in a light-hearted comedy and shows that when the classes unite, Mexico will march forward (as shown in a powerfully patriotic final shot). Two bonuses additions further reinforce Mexican pride in this film:

Lower class General Juan Jose wins Beatriz’ hand from an American. Big patriotic bonus points for this, as the U.S. was never well regarded in Mexico after the invasions of 1846 and 1914, as well as for controlling many of Mexico’s natural resources (Mexico was its most united in 1938 when Cardenas nationalized Mexican oil).
The catholic church is the glue that brings the General and Beatriz together, ironing out their differences and miscommunication. As a fiercely catholic nation – seeing the church as the mediator promoted the role of La Guadalupana moving forward especially in recent presidencies which were fiercely anti-clerical.

Through it’s narrative, Enamorada reframed the Mexican revolution as a war that united the country and set it on course for a positive future.

What to Watch Next

For more films from the prolific director Emilio Fernandez, go back in time and check out Flor Silvestre (1943) and Maria Candelaria (1944) and then go forward in time to watch La Perla (1947) and Rio Escondido (1948).

If you’re looking for more comedy from the Golden Age, the answers are Cantinflas, Ahi esta el detalle (1940), and Tin Tan, El Rey del Barrio (1950).

For more high profile films that captivated the nation, try the most popular film from the Mexican Golden Age – Nosotros los Pobres (1948) – featuring Pedro Infante. You could also watch Infante rap battle Jorge Negrete in Dos Tipos de Cuidado (1953).

Nosotros Los Pobres – Mexico’s Most Popular Film

Here we go! We’ve touched on the start of the Mexican Golden Age with Alla En El Rancho Grande and the stylistic zenith of the movement with Gabriel Figueroa’s cinematography in Enamorada; now it’s time for the most popular Mexican movie of all time: Nosotros Los Pobres. This is the film that every Mexican has seen.

So what’s new? Firstly, the nostalgia for past eras has been thrown out the window. There’s no more romanticized ranch life of Alla En El Rancho Grande or romanticized Mexican Revolution of Enamorada. These periods, as well as the indigenous idolatry of Maria Candelaria and Flor Silvestre, have been traded for the present day. Nosotros Los Pobres takes place in the city and features many everyday characters. This was the first major film that Mexican audiences saw themselves on the screen. The urban environment and tragedy-stricken characters resonated strongly with widespread experiences of the working class. Through the melodrama, audiences could process their trauma and gather around a unified Mexican identity, which was still being constructed in post-revolutionary Mexico.

A Reflection of modern mexico

The setting isn’t pretty. The city of Nosotros los Pobres doesn’t have the open spaces of the ranch or the quaint small-town feel of Cholula. Instead, people live so close together that they can hold conversations with their neighbors through their windows. The cramped contemporary urban environment would have been familiar to Mexican audiences in the city, at a time when the country was rapidly urbanizing. Following the Mexican Revolution and Second World War, the citizens were drawn to the quickly expanding metropolis of Mexico City, trading living space for work opportunities. Following this migration, more and more Mexican films were set in the city, such as the Rumberas of the late 1940s and 1950s (see Aventurera or Victims of Sin) and Bunuel’s Los Olvidados (1950).

The modern, working-class characters of Nosotros los Pobres were also more recognizable to Mexican audiences. Their sing-song, unpretentious speech reflected how most Mexicans spoke (and even served as the comedic punch in one of the whistle-led musical numbers), making them instantly identifiable. Pepe el Toro, played by superstar singer Pedro Infante, was an every-man rolling with the punches of poverty. His character reinforces the Mexican male archetype, as per Carlos Monsivais, with a character ‘simultaneously brave, generous, romantic, and cruel,’ a fierce family man, always ready to defend those he love. Pepe el Toro was more rounded than the virtuous men in Maria Candelaria and Alla en el Rancho Grande. He lived through the same poverty-stemming problems as his viewers, but fought it wherever he could, even if that landed him in trouble.

Unlike Alla en el Rancho Grande and Enamorada, which were both set in romanticized past, the cramped urban spaces and identifiable characters reflected contemporary Mexico. Through the modern setting and working-class characters, Nosotros los Pobres helped to continue building Mexican identity upon the foundations of the romanticized past with the help of melodrama.

Developing Mexican Identity through Melodrama

It’s easy to forget that Mexico is a hugely diverse country. With 63 official languages and many distinct cultures within it’s borders, building national unity has been one of the country’s success stories. The Mexican Golden Age was a crucial part of uniting the people within Mexico’s borders around a common identity. Films like Alla en el Rancho Grande and Enamorada constructed a romanticized past for people to look back on (instead of remembering it’s brutality), and gave the people pride in Mexican culture through the iconic dress and music. But the people needed spirit to get through the trauma of a rapidly modernizing country. This was just the job for melodrama.

So what is melodrama? According to Wikipedia, it’s an exaggerated version of drama, in which plot, typically sensationalized for a strong emotional appeal, takes precedence over detailed characterization. Whilst ‘melodramas’ have acquired a bad reputation for work that lacks subtlety and character development, the Mexican Golden Age films used it as a vehicle to guide their viewers.

Nosotros los Pobres ends with the quote ‘se sufre… pero se aprende’ (one suffers… but one learns) plastered to the back of a wagon. This comes *spoiler alert* after multiple surprise deaths, an eviction, and injustices. Seeing this after all the exaggerated tragedy is meant to encourage the audience to persevere through the turbulence of modern Mexico. It gives them a fictional space to process their real-life traumas resulting from the rapid urbanization of Mexico and widespread social displacement. Unlike later films such as Los Olvidados in which the characters are forgotten in a hopeless ending, the characters of Nosotros los Pobres (and it’s audience) learn to suffer with dignity. It serves to show that although we may be poor, we have love, we have dignity, we have a country that we can be proud of.

The melodrama celebrated the suffering of poverty and ennobled the working class. It showed audiences that they were not alone by uniting them with universal heroes to follow and hope for the future

What Next?

If you started here, head back in time to the start of the Mexican Golden Age with Alla en el Rancho Grande and admire it’s artistic zenith with Enamorada.

Looking forward, witness the rise of the rumbera genre, which built seedier urban environments off the back of the popularity of Cuban rumba rhythms with films such as Aventurera and Victims of Sin. Or view Luis Bunuel’s Los Olvidados as a counter-program to the hope and didactic messages of Nosotros los Pobres.

Roma – Mexico City Bathed in Black & White Beauty

Roma Film Difficulty Ranking: 3

If you love great film or want to be guided around 1970s Mexico City, you’ve come to the right place. Roma is one of the best films you’ll see this century. It’s stream of consciousness narrative feels like life and memory, and the acting and cinematography is a visual treat. Open you’re mind and immerse yourself in Roma.

From: Mexico, North America
Watch: Trailer, Netflix
Next: 8½, Boyhood, Ixcanul

Silent Light – The Emotional Burden of Love

Silent Light Film Difficulty Ranking: 4

It’s obvious Silent Light is going to be a beautifully shot film once you take in the 10 minute opening. It’s one of the most stunning openings you could see – best saved for the big screen. Whilst the images are stunning, they never feel forced, just like the script, a simple story of a family man having an affair with another woman. It’s depth lies in it’s patience and transparency of the characters who hide nothing from their friends and family, or from us, the audience.

From: Mexico, North America
Watch: Trailer, Buy on Amazon
Next: Ordet, Tree of Life, Y Tu Mama Tambien

Towards The Battle – Spain/Latin American Competition – SBIFF

In Towards the Battle, Louis, a French photographer, gets lost in French occupied Mexico in the 1860’s. He wants to photograph the French-Mexican War, but gets lost in the Mexican wilderness trying to find it. However, his encounter with Pinto, a Mexican peasant, gives him the companion and support he needs to carry out his quest.

Louis is in Mexico as commissioned by the French army. He holds a permission slip from the French general which acts as his pass to freely travel the region without reprimand from the roaming French army. It’s the only thing that separates Louis from the rabble of the French army. If he loses it, he’d be conscripted into the army, or, if he’s lucky, sent back to France.

Whilst he can escape from the marauding French army, he can’t escape from the Mexican wilderness. As the scenery changes from mountainous scrub-land to deep rain-forest, Louis is (literally) one step away from a premature death. It’s obvious he can’t survive by himself with two horses carrying his huge amount of photography gear. Luckily for him, a Mexican peasant named Pinto finds him when he’s starving and gives him the food he needs to survive.

From that moment on, they become Don Quixote and Sancho Panza-esque partners. Louis is Don Quixote: a leader of a well off background that loses himself in the quest of one of his hobbies. Instead of chivalry, Louis drags a mountain of photographic equipment across the Mexican wilderness in search of a war that doesn’t appear to exist. When Pinto finds him, he’s already gone a bit mad in his quest to capture a photo of the elusive war. Pinto is Louis’ Sancho Panza: a Mexican peasant that knows Louis is mad, and doesn’t understand him (he doesn’t speak French), but happily goes along with Louis’ delusional quest because he’s got nothing better to do. Along the way, he saves Louis a couple of times, and subordinates himself to him to allow Louis to live out his fantasy. The Don Quixote allegory gives Towards the Battle a timeless feel, and gives an extra layer to Louis’ madness and his slow progression to his own awareness which he reaches in the final scenes.

From the scenery to the setting to the characters, Towards the Battle was one of the films that flew under the SBIFF radar. It’s a well made update of Cervantes’ Don Quixote applied to the French occupation of Mexico. It’s used to show the madness of the French in Mexico and the absurdity of the French occupation of Mexico. The French (Louis) and Don Quixote both live a world away from the reality.