Mexico Best Films- Page 3 of 5

Lupe Under the Sun (Lupe Bajo El Sol) – London Film Festival 2016

Film Difficulty Ranking: 4

Lupe Under the Sun features an ageing migrant worker from Michoacan working in California’s Central Valley. It deals with the vagueness of migrant identity – is Lupe Mexican or American? Or both and neither at the same time? The director, Rodrigo Reyes, shows migration to be both an inspired act of hope and a frightening leap into the unknown.

Why Watch Lupe Under the Sun?

For a timely look at the life of a lonely migrant worker in the U.S. a group verbally assaulted by Trump
To see an old man riding a tricycle
Step in somebody else’s shoes – take a walk through the eyes of an immigrant worker in an unfamiliar environment which you call home
What does it mean to not belong?

The Breakdown

The film starts with a narration by Lupe’s grandson as Lupe walks through arid landscape and orchards.

He says that his grandfather told him a secret; that he was going to America to paint a really big house that will take him a long time. He won’t be back for some time, because he has to keep painting.

Does Lupe really belong here? He doesn’t talk to anyone, except one scene where he is gambling around a small table with two other guys. He doesn’t answer his girlfriend, he mumbles back to the doctor, and doesn’t make any effort to start any conversation. His lack of dialogue emphasises his lack of belonging and identity. He has no friends and no one he cares about in the Central Valley. He has no reason to stay where he is or go home.

Furthermore, his days are occupied by ritual. He wakes up at 4am each morning, cooks his eggs, showers, and shaves his moustache before he gets picked up to go pick fruit. Each day we are shown this same ritual emphasised by fixed shots of the alarm clock, the cooking hob, and the kitchen sink. The repeated shots emphasise the mundaneness of Lupe’s life – is he brave for sticking out this monotone life? His only joy seems to come from riding his tricycle around town.

Why is Lupe living here? Why doesn’t he go back to Mexico where he might feel a little more belonging? Lupe is symbolic of the ‘no-man’s land’ of migrant identity – he is both the man of his past life in Mexico and the man of his present in the U.S. Pick this one for a quiet night in to watch with someone else – watching it alone might make you question your loneliness.

Ruinas Tu Reino – Deconstructing Latin American Cinema

Ruinas Tu Reino Film Difficulty Ranking: 5

We don’t believe in a cinema that yells “¡Viva la revolución!” but in one that instead formally critiques the structures that originally created the profound injustice that exists today.
Pedro Escoto, Director of Ruinas Tu Reino

If you’re not familiar with slow film or meditative cinema, the lack of story line and raw experimental shots of Ruinas Tu Reino might prove to be too much of a challenge. The long shots of the sea and fishermen sitting around makes the film feel more like a film exhibit you’d see in a modern art museum. However, if you have the patience to observe, you’ll find a film imbued with poetry; literally in words that appear on screen, and visually in the meditative shots of the fisherman’s existence. It’s a film that seeks to deconstruct Latin American cinema by transcending historical narratives, reverting to DIY production, and focusing on the power of very raw images.

To get more from this film, I strongly recommend reading Ela Bittencourt’s profile of Pablo Escoto for Lyssaria and also Pedro Escoto’s interview with Pedro Segura for Ojos Abiertos (in Spanish).

From: Mexico, North America
Watch: Trailer, Letterboxd, Vimeo (via Tweet from Director with Password)
Next: Mysterious Object at Noon, Too Early, Too Late, El Dorado XXI

I Carry You With Me – AFI Fest 2020

I Carry You With Me is an epic cross generational, border crossing love story that hops between Puebla in Mexico and New York in the USA. It’s shot across three time periods: the present in NY, the past in Puebla, and the distant past reflected in childhood memories. The majority of the film takes place in the middle where Ivan and Gerardo meet. It contains the bulk of the film’s emotion and narrative. However, the cuts to the present imbue it with nostalgia by situating it in the past. It makes it feel like a dream period for the couple that contrasts with the uncertainty of their lives in the present.

The style also contributes to the dream like qualities of the middle period. Like Wong Kar-wai’s In the Mood for Love, Heidi Ewing uses a lot of color filters to imbue warmth and feeling to I Carry You With Me. Instead of warm reds and oranges, there’s greens, oranges, and blues that create a world that feels unique and special. It captures the excitement of their romance. Also like In The Mood for Love, there’s food. A plate of Chile en Nogada replaces a bowl of hot steaming noodles. Chile en Nogada being one of Puebla and Mexico’s most iconic dishes and one that is notoriously hard to make. It both situates their romance and symbolizes their love.

The portrayal of Puebla also challenges the typical American Dream narrative presented in U.S.-Mexico films. It depicts a Mexican city full of warmth, beauty, and life to contrast with the lonely, bleak, coldness of New York. In this film, the U.S. is not the land of opportunity that it is often depicted to be. Instead of leaving to escape poverty, they leave for the opportunity to start a new life.

I Carry You With Me is not without it’s own cliches. There’s the gay guy with the female best friend and another who’s best friend is a flamboyant drag queen. Then there’s the haunting memories of the first time their fiercely patriarchal families put them down. Obviously not all families in Mexico are like this, and whilst I don’t doubt these events happened to the real Ivan and Gerardo, they feel like exploitative throw in scenes designed to evoke sympathy and emotion. However, despite the cliches,I Carry You With Me is a brilliantly romantic portrayal of generation and border crossing love.

Head to our AFI Fest Hub for more reviews and short films from AFI Fest 2020.

Tragic Jungle (Selva trágica) – AFI Fest 2020

Full disclosure: I’m a sucker for jungle movies like this. Films where the jungle slowly ebbs away at the ego of each character until it merges with the forest and they disappear. Embrace of the Serpent, Apocalypse Now, and The Mercy of the Jungle are three great examples of this. In each of these films, the jungle is expansive and labyrinthine. As every part of it looks the same, it’s easy to see how you can begin to lose track of place and time – did I pass this tree 15 minutes ago, this rock looks familiar, etc. And once you’ve lost your place in time, the jungle starts to consume you, slowly dissolving your ego away.

Tragic Jungle stands out from the bunch in bringing the jungle to life. It uses the sounds of the Howler Monkey and Jaguar to turn it into a threatening physical entity. Their constant roars and grumbles occupying the sonic space are unnerving. The unease is further emphasized by the videos of the two animals mixed in with the main narrative. It makes it feel like the animals are just around the corner, waiting for the inevitable demise of the human protagonists. This is their home, and the Director, Yulene Olaizola, makes that clear.

The only character that seems comfortable in the jungle is the anonymous runaway, a young black Belizean woman chased across the River Hondo into Mexico by her hunters. It’s not clear if she’s escaped the gun of her hunter or not. But once she appears to a group of Mexican rubber harvesters out of the forest, she assumes her role as the Ixtabay woman, a legendary Mayan demon that appears from the forest to lure men to their deaths with her beauty. From this point, she’s completely silent among her new captors. However, her stoical face and slight smile to all the men that approach her, make it appear that she’s always in control.

Her character is exoticized by the Mexican rubber harvesters because of her race. Unlike them, who are a mix of Mexican mestizo and Mexican indigenous heritages, she is a black creole Belizean woman. She’s as unfamiliar to them as the jungle they’re working in, so it’s not surprising that they link her appearance to the supernatural.

Her exoticization also reflects the erasure of Afro-Mexicans from contemporary and historical Mexico. In using a Black creole woman from Belize as the Ixtabay woman, Tragic Jungle further ‘others’ the Black creole women of Mexico. It portrays Blackness as something exotic and unfamiliar to the Mexican characters of both indigenous and mixed Spanish and indigenous backgrounds, which enforces the foreignness of Blackness in Mexico despite it’s own Afro-Mexican community and links to African slavery. Because the Black characters are not Mexican, because they are exoticized and made to feel foreign, and because of the context of historical and present erasure of Afro-Mexicans in Mexico that is slowly gaining recognition, Tragic Jungle contributes to the systematic erasure of Blackness in Mexico.

Head to our AFI Fest Hub for more reviews and short films from AFI Fest 2020.

New Order (Nuevo Orden) – AFI Fest 2020

New Order starts with a chaotic montage of images. There’s a modern art painting, a naked lady covered in green paint, and plenty of lifeless bodies. Each image flashes up on screen for half a second as bold orchestral music plays in the background. It’s a disorientating and sensationalist start which gives us a sign of the chaos to come.

The film relaxes for 15 minutes after the opening as we enter the safety bubble of an upper class wedding in Mexico City. There’s a lot of mingling and small talk. It’s a world which feels a lot like the exclusive Mexico City world shown in The Good Girls. Everyone is focused on their business and completely oblivious to the lives of the public outside of their social sphere.

However, some ominous signs start to appear that connect to the chaotic opening montage which the film uses to build unease. The tap water starts running green; the judge for the wedding is late; and one guest appears with a green splodge on her shirt. Meanwhile the bride disappears to help out one of their former maids. The outside world is getting closer to their upper class bubble.

It’s not long before the bubble bursts and some outsiders splattered in green climb over the walls surrounding their property, symbolic of the wealth divide. At this point everything suddenly goes mad as the security guards turn on the wealthy family and start raiding the house for valuables alongside the home invaders. It’s not particularly clear who the invaders are, but from who they’re targeting it seems like it’s an anti-rich uprising. From this point on the film descends into nihilistic chaos that reminded me of Todd Phillips Joker. It’s not really clear what the nihilism is supposed to represent besides a vague: rich are bad, and the poor victimized and it’s never really clear why everything is happening. As a result, the second half comes across as a bit sensationalist and provocative and without too much depth to back up the action.

If you’d like to see some Mexican political movies with a bit more depth check out the satirical critique of Mexican politics in Luis Estrada’s The Perfect Dictatorship, and the horrifyingly real nihilism in Amat Escalante’s Heli. There’s also Children of Men and Sons of Denmark if you want to watch some more chaotic near future dystopian movies.

Head to our AFI Fest Hub for more reviews and short films from AFI Fest 2020.