linkogecko Reviews

The Stone Speakers (2018)

Positive and negative energies

[8/10 · 7 April 2022]

This is the rare documentary where form is given the same importance as the subject. In an unusual choice, talking heads are avoided on behalf of "non-talking bodies" instead. Rather than film the interviewees as they speak, they are filmed standing still in their relevant locations, while the audio of their interviews plays in voice-over. Additionally, the interviewer's questions are not heard at all.

The subjects are also mostly name- and title-less, leaving it to the viewer to piece out who they are based on the context of their words. This results in a documentary that creates a very clear sense of place (how the touristic sites came to be, what is their appeal, their connection to the ever-changing senses of identity in the Balkans, etc.).

The sense of place is achieved at the expense of almost all other information, meaning that the work ends up feeling incomplete. Regardless, it is greatly successful as an almost-experimental way of documenting and, like many experimental works, might be best taken at a purely emotional level, letting yourself react to what is happening in the moment.

A Costume for Nicholas (2020)

An almost-certain win for representation

[7/10 · 7 April 2022]

Fotosintesis Media is a pretty unique studio in the world of animation. While some of the big hitters like the U. S.'s Pixar and Disney can often be considered to put story or merchandise before representation, others in Japan or Europe seem intent on pushing the medium as a visual artform. This Mexican studio on the other hand, tends to prioritize representation and social enterprising. This is clear in their previous movie ("The Angel in the Clock", whose protagonist is a young girl undergoing chemotherapy) as well as "A Costume for Nicolás", where the title character has Down Syndrome.

The term "Down Syndrome" is not mentioned at all in the movie, however, so it falls on cues such as the shape of Nicolás's eyes compared to other characters, or his distinctive speech, to make it clear that he has it. Not addressing this directly could be seen as not conducive to representation, although I think the argument could be made that it is in fact better for it.

In the movie's "real world", Nicolás is not singled out as "special", which mashes well with his approach to the magical elements of the narrative. By not treating the appearance of portals inside chests or humanoid orangutans as anything out of the ordinary, he follows the Latin American tradition of magical realism (other characters do react to this, placing the work more squarely within the category of Fantasy). Nicolás being treated "normally" means that the movie pushes forward the intention for this to be the ideal way of disability being treated in the real world. Erasure of the condition is also avoided during the end credits, where behind-the-scenes footage showcases Nicolás's original voice actor, who also has Down Syndrome.

The other distinctive characteristic of Fotosintesis, now specifically within Mexican animation, is how much importance they give to the craft of animating. In terms of visuals and fluidity, their works might be the single most consistently solid in the country's industry. Though not as imaginative as "The Angel in the Clock", the imagery here is still quite unique, with compelling character designs and beautiful backgrounds.

With such a focus on representation and artistry, narrative is often one of the studio's weaknesses. For all their good intentions, the stories fall short of creating emotional resonance, with the conflicts being resolved conveniently after a journey full of shortcuts. This is often not a problem for the younger ones, however, who are definitely a part of the audiences included in their whole-family approach.

Given the studio's priorities, it makes sense that the focus is on highlighting diversity to all their viewers. In this sense, "A Costume for Nicolás" succeeds while also looking quite impressive for its context, despite any narrative shortcomings.

Heavenly Bites: Mexico (2022– )

Celebrate creativity; in any shape, form or flavor

[7/10 · 7 April 2022]

It's easy to watch this series and only see the food, the calories, how unnecessary it all is. To be fair, that is most of what the series itself shows. While there are small talking head bits with science and humanities specialists explaining the biological and psychological concepts behind these creations, the sociocultural context specific to Mexico is practically not talked about.

Regardless, the context IS there, if you know where to look. Many of these culinary behemoths originated in working class neighborhoods of the country and represent the inventiveness that is often needed to succeed in these communities. Repairing tools and machines with parts that don't belong to them is often seen as resourceful, and so is the unexpected substitution of ingredients in traditional recipes during periods of scarcity (like the infamous canned tomato soup cake).

Then why not celebrate the resourcefulness of adding the snacks to your drink in the same glass (peanuts in Coke, micheladas)? Or putting messy foods inside a dry bread that allows more convenient eating with your hands while on the go?

That being said, in celebrating these overwhelming antojitos, one also celebrates the negatives they represent. With food waste, obesity, malnutrition and their related issues all running rampant, it makes perfect sense to question the celebration of plates that are not realistically going to be eaten in their entirety. And, if they are, they won't be particularly good for their "victims". Considering we live in a time where every act of consumption should probably be viewed as environmental, this questioning is extremely relevant.

The series takes a mostly positive approach to these concoctions, but it does leave lingering questions, with their answers not always being comfortable or clean-cut. In that sense, I think it succeeds as a documentary, where the whole story can't always be told, but the themes remain. Unquestionably, there is room for improvement in its rather superficial treatment of the subject, however.

It should also be pointed out that "Heavenly Bites" are far from a Mexico-only phenomenon. Future seasons could easily show the most outrageous of Scotland's munchie boxes, Australia's halal snack packs, Chile's chorrillanas and so much more (the U. S. already being fairly well-represented with "Man V. Food" and "Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives").

La Vocera (2020)

El pueblo. Unido.

[8/10 · 9 November 2021]

Marichuy's campaign to become one of the official independent candidates to the 2018 Mexican presidential election was always a long shot. She wasn't the only woman (former First Lady Margarita Zavala would seek a candidacy too), nor the country's first Indigenous politician at that level (one of Mexico's most historically significant presidents, Benito Juárez, was Indigenous), but she was the only hopeful that was both Indigenous and a woman.

Zavala also had a semi-presidential background advantage, and El Bronco (the other independent candidate) had already succesfully been voted in as governor of the state of Nuevo León. María de Jesús also wasn't a career politician, or even much of any kind of politician, before this campaign.

As the title of the documentary states, she was a spokeswoman. Chosen by the country's National Indigenous Council to speak for them collectively, her and the Council's non-individual approach was another aspect that played against their campaign, as it was often interpreted as non-conformist. In order to be inscribed as an official candidate, Marichuy needed to gather signatures equivalent to at least 1% of the electorate.

This is where the documentary begins in earnest, as her campaign for awarenes and the corresponding signatures, mirrors the typical trans-country touring campaigns of her rivals. Her approach however, focuses almost exclusively on Indigenous communities. Highlighted specifically are the Maya peoples of the Yucatán Peninsula and Chiapas (the state with the highest percentage of Indigenous population in the country, and birthplace of the Zapatista movement, which preceded the National Indigenous Council), the Yaqui of Sonora and the mid-Pacific Coast's Huichol/Wixárika.

The film spends time with representatives of each of these groups who supported the campaign, and allows them to showcase the particular issues that accost their communities. Environmental and land ownership concerns are the most common, but the subtext of everyday racism and classism permeates them all. The documentary tends to have a hands-off approach to showcasing these, allowing the subjects to do practically all of the talking and point-making.

In this regard, it at times comes off as dry and slow, but this slow burn burns regardless. Indigenous and minority struggles have been among the most defining of the 21st century so far, and their realities as portrayed here are downright infuriating. Governmental oppression and engineered poverty are commonplace in most countries, but the specifics to Mexico, in the way that these communities in particular have generally been abandoned in regards to the drug-related violence, make the country's one of the world's most heartbreaking examples of Indigenous relations.

This narcoviolence aspect isn't even mentioned directly at any point during the film, but its presence is as inescapable on-screen as it was during the 2018 campaign and since. All in all, La Vocera does not need to say much in terms of film-making. Deft editing and the right choices of spokepeople are all it needs to make its point.

At the end of the day, despite the campaign's best efforts, corruption succeeded in keeping Marichuy from appearing officially on the voter ballots. Only time will tell if this story on film fares better.

Carlos Almaraz: Playing with Fire (2019)

A solid biography

[7/10 · 27 May 2021]

As the documentary opera prima of its directors, "Playing with Fire" is a good enough effort to showcase the complexities of both the life and work of its subject: Mexican-born and L. A.-based artist Carlos Almaraz. There are two main ways in which Almaraz's voice comes through in the film, one is a long form video interview where he himself discussed his motivations and the inspiration behind his paintings. The second, a particularly clever decision, is the reading of fragments of his diaries by the well-known musician Zack de la Rocha. Either by performance or coincidence (or both), de la Rocha's voice matches Almaraz's very closely, making for a great continuity between the identity expressed publically by Carlos and the more inner thoughts stemming from his writing.

These "autobiographic" aspects are the strongest aspect of the documentary, which unfortunately falters more in other areas. The soundtrack is at times distracting, seeing how often it is used to create obvious montages showcasing Almaraz's works, at times taking too much attention from them. Generally speaking, the interviews are well-conducted and edited, although the rare cases where they feel too clearly placed for emotional impact can verge on manipulative.

All in all, "Playing with Fire"'s strongest success is in how it manages to introduce an artist whose life and works might not have been a well-known previously, even if its filmic qualities are a tad shortcoming. On the positive of portraying Almaraz's paintings, the documentary does make a good job of representing the thickness of the brushtrokes and paint, even with the obvious limitation of working on a 2-D medium. The film also manages to contextualize Almaraz intelligently not only within the artistic timeframe he lived in, but also his identity both within the Chicano movement and culture, and in LGBTQ+ culture during the peak of the AIDS pandemic.

Pixar Popcorn (2021)

A new kind of experiment.

[8/10 · 22 January 2021]

With new shorts series like Disney's Short Circuit and Pixar's own SparkShorts, it is refreshing to see these studios freed of the weight of their franchises to experiment both narratively and visually.

In Popcorn we see Pixar experiment once more with even shorter shorts and this time with the tricky proposition of playing within their best-known franchises. Not a studio to shy away from a challenge, it is very welcome to see that they are not content with telling stories in too straightforward a manner.

A majority of these shorts are dialogue-free, which is a great surprise. Wall-E showed that Pixar can work with silence, and that is cemented with the Popcorn shorts. Most of them are quite nice small scenes and gags.

Of these my favorites were the domesticity of the Incredibles ones, the silent comedy of the Coco one and the chill of the Soul one. This Soul short might be the most surprising one in its reflective atmosphere, tying to other left-field Disney+ projects like Zenimation and the Disney Park Sunrises.

Cops and Robbers (I) (2020)

Styles and substance.

[9/10 · 28 December 2020]

The 7 minutes of this short pack a surprising amount of power thanks to it being based on a fast spoken word piece. In delivery and themes, it reminds me a bit of moments in "Blindspotting". While some of the monologues in the full-length movie have a bit of an awkward rhythm, the short has no such problems as the spoken piece takes up the entire runtime.

Combining the powerful message and delivery with a collage of animations and brief live-action shots, the short is effective and a visual treat. Like all anthology pieces, some segments are definitely weaker, but the variety of imagery, including 3D modeling and several types of 2D animation make for a great end result.

The message continues even during the credits as it turns out that the work is truly collaborative, having contributions from several teams and solo artists throughout the world.

World of Tomorrow Episode Three: The Absent Destinations of David Prime (2020)

Hello, David.

[10/10 · 28 December 2020]

After watching this short once, it became clear that I could not do justice to reviewing it without having re-watched the previous two parts before and getting a general view of the trilogy, specially as I am building up on my previous review for Episode Two. Like Hertzfeldt's previous work "It's Such a Beautiful Day", "World of Tomorrow" has so far consisted of independent short films that still tie to a continuous narrative and could well be edited as a single full-length movie in the future.

While "Beautiful Day" ended up uniting a trilogy of shorts, "WoT" could consist of a further sequel(s?) to Episode Three, as this leaves some loose threads primed for answering if so desired. Should that not be the case, and Episode Three conlcudes the tale of David and Emily and their many clones and clone backups, it would still be an impressive finale.

As revealed over its 30-minute runtime (the longest of the shorts so far), the Absent Destinations of David Prime go on to recontextualize several plot points from the previous shorts, including the origin of the museum exhibit David and the Man with the Seriously Misinterpreted Haircut. Unlike them, however, Episode Three no longer relies on the ramblings of Hertzfeldt's young niece, instead consisting almost entirely on exposition by Julia Pott, the brilliant voice of the adult Emilys.

The director's work has often been noted for a deconstruction of form and narrative and the proportion of exposition to plot in this short would have felt very out of place in practically any other sci-fi movie, greatly affecting its quality. For Hertzfeldt, however, this is standard for the course and this decision, along with other peculiar ones such as a sound mix that often favors unintelligibility and repetitive, annoying noises, only assist in improving the unique effectiveness of its experimental streak.

Comparing it to the previous shorts, it is also clear that the quality of the image and animation, mostly the clever and subtle use of cel-shaded 3D CGI imagery, has improved over the course of the trilogy(?). "World of Tomorrow" represents one of the most cerebral and beautiful sci-fi works of the 21st century so far, equal parts unsettling, hopeful and hilarious (let's not forget that this complex narrative is starred by what are glorified stick figures).

Break It All: The History of Rock in Latin America (2020– )

Incomplete, but greatly enjoyable overall

[8/10 · 21 December 2020]

It is likely that this docuseries's aim is to provide a glimpse, a primer on the history of Latin American rock, while also linking to the history of the region as well, rather than to create an absolutely comprehensive encyclopedia. To compare it to the great BBC series "The Seven Ages of Rock" would not be a stretch.

However, from the start it is clear that controversy will abound here as even the definition of "Latin America" for the purposes of the documentary is bound to cause polemic. Brazil is left out despite being the largest and most-populated country in the region, but this is a clever decision as it allows to keep the focus in Spanish-language rock (thus also leaving out a large number of United States and Canadian acts with members of Latin American origin or immigrants, but which mostly produce music in English).

This is also not a compendium of all rock in Spanish, as bands from Spain are only somewhat mentioned in tangents related to their influence on Latin America, specially in the 1980s, or projects with members that span both sides of the Atlantic (like Madrid-based Los Rodríguez, which included Argentinian members). In general, the main axes of the documentary seem to be Mexico and Argentina. A difficult decision but one that makes sense as these are both the historical (due its cultural and geographic closeness with the U.S., Mexico tends to be the gateway for many of that country's innovations to move south) and commercial axes of Latin rock itself.

In its successes, the series is exhaustive enough. Every major rock trend of the 20th century is well-represented and showcases general tendencies. Mexico favors blues- and folk-rock, Chilean rock has almost always had to fight repression of some sort, while in Colombia, the genre is generally a niche one and hardly tops the mainstream charts. The production is solid and a good balance is struck between archival footage and modern-day interviews.

On the other hand, its flaws are not tragic at any moment, but they could have been so easily addressed that it is likely that they will continue to be mentioned when the series is reviewed from now on. The edition is somewhat lacking, as some episodes will spend almost all their runtime focusing either on Mexico City or Buenos Aires, thus leaving out many important contemporary acts from the other countries/cities. These are often mentioned in the next episode, but by that point the momentum of showcasing all the acts as they related to their timeframe (early 1960s or 80s, for example) is normally lost.

The conclusion definitely feels rushed and is the weakest element of the series since, after being so comprehensive for the majority of the 20th century, it barely delves into the trends that defined rock in the early 21st century. Many movements were ridiculed shortly after they happened, like new wave and glam rock, but hindsight has vindicated them. While this might not yet be the case for pop-punk or emo, or even the peak hipster-ness associated with types of indie rock, if the series had chosen to showcase their Latin variants regardless, it would have been a step ahead of the curve and less likely to feel dated in a few years.

Particularly egregious are the complete lack of mention of movements like math and post rock, which had a very important and popular Mexico City representative in Austin TV, or the huge indie trends in both Mexico (Porter, Niña) and Chile (Pedropiedra, Ases Falsos). That these subgenres were skipped over in favor of the "after-rock" acts like Calle 13 and Nortec is probably the one true mistake of "Break it All", specially as they are widely considered to be part of the rock genre as a whole. That this could have been such an easy fix in dedicating the 6th episode to 21st century rock, and a 7th one to the possible future of the music, is frustrating but not to the degree of ruining the previous enjoyment.

Taco Chronicles (2019– )

Netflix's newest attempt at building its library's foodie options

[7/10 · 27 July 2019]

This 6-episode treatise on the many types of tacos available in Mexico differentiates itself from their producer's efforts like "Street Food" and "Chef's Table", "Taco Chronicles" gives a voice to the food itself, with every episode featuring a narrator as the tacos' "voice". These narrators also follow the specific origins of the tacos themselves, with the Mexico City taco al pastor speaking in typical chilango accent and slang, carne asada following with norteño and so on.

While the gimmick of these voices wears thin at times, they serve for more than just narrative as they emphasize the diversity of cultures and ingredients that have lead to there being so many and wildly different variants of tacos in and out of the country. It's only the Los Angeles Mexican diaspora that's been represented so far and to me said representation seems quite fair and balanced. Another clever trick by the series is its use of animated segments for the more historical background of the tacos, relating them to pre-Columbian cuisine and the changes brought about by Spanish conquest and further Old World immigration.

Overall, the series achieve a good balance between being informational and entertaining, just doesn't offer much to make it stand out. While an initial 6-episode offering makes sense, it does lead to some glaring, noticeable omissions like not featuring a single taco from the South of the country (despite being such a gastronomic force that the name Oaxaca is constant through this first batch) or any featuring seafood from the country's many coasts. I'm sure however, that if there are further episodes, these tacos will eventually be showcased.

Get Duked! (2019)

Something old, something new, something borrowed, something wild

[9/10 · 1 July 2019]

The sort of films that get called "anarchic" have to strike a tricky balance, often when it's clear the cast and crew were having as much fun as possible MAKING a movie, the actual result gets lost and the audience ends up watching a rambling, aimless and pointless collection of footage. If the balance is struck however, we can end up with a blast of a film that entertains the viewers at least as much as the filmmakers were entertained making it. Thankfully, "Boyz in the Wood" gets it so, so right.

The closest reference of what one could expect coming into this movie is Taika Waititi's brilliant hit "Hunt for the Wilderpeople". Like the NZ film, here we have a showcase of the rugged scenery of the country (the Scottish Highlands in this case) serving as the backdrop for a crazy story involving too-urban-for-the-bush, hip-hop obsessed, cursing teens and overzealous, bored police, along with other random characters that are more set-ups for the next punchline and crazy plot point than they are "real people living in their world" (and there's nothing wrong with that). There's some "Hot Fuzz" (and general Edgar Wright-ness) thrown in for good measure what with its very exaggerated conflict of old and traditional British values and the new generations taken to the extreme and the "big-budget Hollywood flair in small-budget Britain" attitude. Ridiculous psychotropic imagery that is the natural step after the cartoony drug sequences of "21/22 Jump Street" finishes off the cocktail.

If this review comes off as more of a list of references than an analysis of the film, that is because this is not the kind of movie that invites that depth of thought (although like with all forms of art, if you dig you'll find, and there's plenty to dig here with the very old-fashioned villains chasing our young protagonists, echoes of young Scots' ever-stronger desire for independence resounding through the glen, but... meh). This ride is wild, hilarious, brave in its indifference to convention and best when served cold, without too clear an idea what to expect. The previous references are little more than an "if you enjoyed these titles, we suggest the following" algorithm, if you DID enjoy the previous titles, you definitely want be in the hunt for this new game.

P.S., while the soundtrack is brilliant, I must say that for a hip-hop-heavy, Scottish film, this was sadly light on Young Fathers and thus one of the reasons for the just-less-than-perfect score.

Farming (2018)

Scattershot but still packing some impacts

[7/10 · 30 June 2019]

Being the directing and/or screenwriting debut of a well-known actor always loads a movie with a lot of baggage and expectations, for every critical darling like "Good Will Hunting" and "Gone Baby Gone" you get a forgettable "In the Land of Blood and Honey" or "Déficit". The baggage only gets heavier when it also happens to be openly based on the actor's own life story. The last such case of this double-duty debut I can think of lead to the multi-award winning and nominated "Lady Bird" by Greta Gerwig, so... no pressure.

"Farming" is British actor Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje's telling of his own life story having been "farmed out" as a baby in the late 1960s to a couple in Tilbury. This was a common practice with African, mostly Nigerian, couples in the UK, where they would hire white, British foster parents to care for their children in the hope that it would lead to better lives for them. Many of these white families were working-class, not indifferent to the pay involved in fostering and unprepared for the unique challenges that the race relations of the practice could lead to. Adewale's film avatar Enitan is also farmed out, taken back for a few years by his biological parents to their native Nigeria, has constant identity crises after his return to England and these result in him joining a white supremacist skinhead gang.

As a testament to its staying cultural impact, Dave Chappelle's "Black Klansman" character is probably the first thing that comes to mind when picturing a black person joining a white supremacist group, but the situation is not even remotely played for laughs here. For the most part, "Farming" is brutal, Enitan's crisis and isolation, strong enough to make him want to join any group that'll take him even if it's just to hate on him, is greatly portrayed in all its troubling phases by Damson Idris (the actor playing him as a child, along with the rest of the child performers are unfortunately a lot less successful). Damson is not alone in carrying the movie, his strongest peer being an electrifying John Dagleish, playing the skinhead gang's leader with such power that one could understand Eni's wish to follow him, even through the obvious hate. Keeping the film from becoming monotonously bleak is an incredibly stylish production design (even if some locations are clearly too modern for their time setting) and the occasional gorgeous, almost classic, grainy stock, high-contrast photography coupled with a great selection of songs related to the Black British experience.

Among the rest of the cast, Kate Beckinsale is to be noted as she's never before been seen playing a character like this toxic-yet-watchable mother, and she does it well, it's just a shame that the character itself is almost a stock one in modern drama thanks to "Tonya", "The Fighter" and the already-mentioned "Lady Bird". AAA playing the avatar of his own father is interesting too, for the role this might have in his own process of dealing with the events depicted.

For all its audiovisual strengths the movie unfortunately falls short on the story department specially near the end. In an attempt to make the previous brutality end in less of a downer note, the final minutes try to wrap everything up a tad too nicely. This along with some unsure pacing decisions denote the nature of this movie as an opera prima, fortunately not to the extent of detracting from the end result though. Finally, considering the U.S.'s role as the leading cultural force in the world, where most of the art related to the race relations of black people originates from, it is refreshing to see a different aspect of these as they happen in other countries, specially when they're told so vividly by creatives who've lived through and been inspired by them.

The Professor and the Madman (2019)

An endeavour of unanticipated heft

[8/10 · 21 March 2019]

Unforeseen: when a movie about people LITERALLY writing a dictionary turns out to be captivating, specially the further it strays from the actual dictionary-writing. "The Professor and the Madman" features Sean Penn and Mel Gibson both retaking characteristics from some of their better-known, pre-controversy roles, with Gibson going back to the "Braveheart" Scottish accent and Penn to the "Dead Man Walking" maybe-redeemable inmate murderer; resulting in a very strong on-screen chemistry.

By the time this movie is released in most markets, its fame will likely stem from its legal issues which lead to Mel Gibson basically disavowing it and director Farhad Safinia doing so in full (the movie is credited to "P.B. Shemran", an Alan Smithee-like alias if there's ever been one). I find this decision suprising as for most of the film I could have easily bought this as a Mel Gibson-directed work. As a filmmaker, he might not have the strongest of auteurial signatures, but said signature that can most easily be defined in the depiction of gore, a fascination with language and Christian faith elements (most obvious in "The Passion of the Christ" and "Hacksaw Ridge"), definitely makes an appearance here.

Not content with Gibson-like directorial decisions, the screenplay fortunately digs deeper into some topics than any Gibson script has. Penn's character's arc in particular is well-developed in creating empathy towards the mentally ill, which is still not common enough nowadays, nevermind in a time when phrenology was still a valid study. The word "redemption", so rare yet supposed to be the most Christian of virtues as well, gets a very strong definition with this character arc. Obsession is touched upon as well, not to Aronofsky-an levels, but still enough to be worthy of a mention.

Considering the unforeseen depth of the treatment of these topics, it's truly unfortunate that there are some cases where the movie relies of the most shallow of tropes to force tension. The worst case of this is the almost-mustache-twirling-villain characters, with no depth or motive beyond antagonizing and foiling our brave heroes. One case in particular is not as tragic when a (until then) well-developed and rounded character inexplicably takes that villanous turn, at least having given us a solid base before. Additionally, the visuals suffer with some establishing shots clearly having made with inferior digital video quality, creating a jarring effect that takes you out of the movie. All in all, despite these shortcomings, "The Professor and the Madman" is a worthy story that goes into unanticipated and fortuitous depths, intensities, profoundities.

Patria (2019)

Absolutely a companion piece

[6/10 · 14 March 2019]

"Patria" ("Fatherland") is a book trilogy written by the famously outspoken Mexican writer Paco Ignacio Taibo II about this country's history during the crucial period between 1854 and 1867 when Mexico, as a relatively new independent country, faced some of its largest external and internal conflicts. This documentary, hosted by Taibo himself, is a visual companion to the books, where he visits some of the actual locations where Mexican history changed course.

Taibo is a generally charismatic and sometimes controversial personality in modern Mexico, which works to keep the documentary from becoming too dry as the majority of it consists of him on-location speaking directly to the audience. The book trilogy deals heavily with how the historical period had such major consequences that they still impact and shape the current state of the nation, but in the documentary this is only mentioned in passing.

Onscreen, Taibo focuses almost exclusively on the historical facts and events without making the strong connections to the present that have given the books their fame. Overall, while this is a good explanation (if not introduction) to a watershed moment of Mexican history, it still pales as a comparison to the work that originated it, functioning exclusively as a companion piece rather than a standalone.

Candelaria (2017)

Let them see

[7/10 · 30 January 2019]

Elderly people have a fame of being mis- and under-represented in media. Often times just wise, comforting figures to younger protagonists, they are hardly at the center of the stories. "Candelaria" challenges that by not only being very clearly protagonized by an elderly couple, but showing them as complete characters too. Despite their age and wisdom, they still make mistakes, lie, lust and altogether, LIVE.

The title character is part of the laundry staff in a Havana tourist hotel and she lives in a typically Habanero apartment (kind of falling apart) with her husband Victor Hugo, and their illegally-obtained chickens, during Cuba's "special period" in the 1990s (when the U.S.-led economic blockade on the country tightened and food became scarcer). After a guest at the hotel misplaces his camcorder and it happens upon Candelaria's hands, who takes it home, its novelty eventually leads to her and Victor Hugo rediscovering each other and their relationship.

The character flaws and their decisions work explicitly to make them more human, relatable and likable. As their chemistry rekindles, Victor Hugo finds himself in touch with a European expat in Cuba who "milks the crisis", letting cash-short Cubans come to him desperate to sells possessions for dollars. In Victor Hugo's case, his private video recordings with Candelaria are what the black market dealer is interested in. The absurdity of Victor Hugo and Candelaria finding themselves as somewhat unwilling porn actors at their age is played somewhat for humor, but with an underlying current of dignity and respect.

Unfortunately this and other plot trends in the movie don't get developed or resolved that much, making this a mostly pleasing and original mood piece than a plotted narrative. The voyeuristic commentary is meta, with Victor and Candelaria's videos, as well as the movie itself being almost slice-of-life, resulting in an interesting portrayal of an under-represented demographic, aided by a fair amount of Cuban flavor and flair for life.

Amalia the Secretary (2018)

jajajaja

[9/10 · 28 January 2019]

Most comedians will gladly elaborate on the idea that "comedy is more difficult than drama". This concept does tend to ring true specially when considering how universal drama tends to be: loss, betrayal, love, almost all cultures and people react similarly to these feelings. But humor? Wordplay depends not only on language, but on pronunciation and accent. Some cultures tend to like comedy DARK and offensive, while others' ideas of taboos and respect are too strong for that. Timing is tricky as hell. These are just a few of the reasons why it seems crotch-shots and farts are pretty much the only universal forms of humor and "Amalia the Secretary" has neither.

As I watched this film, with Spanish being my first language, I was hoping for one thing above all: that the people in charge of translating it know what they're doing. Having mentioned how humor can sometimes be very culture-specific, I do not think this one leans on too Latin American a style of comedy. It does rely heavily on dialogue, awkwardness and timing though, for which the correct translation is crucial. The type of real-life awkwardness on display in this movie, with its near-painfulness, has its closest relative in Gervais's "Office", while its uplifting narrative does skew more NBC, both of which have managed huge success worldwide thanks to their relatability.

Amalia is, of course, a secretary. She runs a tight office for her boss, Don Bernardo. She is a bit of stickler for order and procedure, but not to the point of alienation as she clearly does care for her boss and family. She lives with her mostly-mute elderly mother and hired a friend to basically be her nurse, while her own grown-up daughter is studying in the U.S. She also has never been able to dance.

A meeting with Lázaro, a new janitor at her company, does not lead to what other movies would exaggeratedly would call "her life being turned upside down", but it does lead to an interesting change of pace. A change of pace with less office work and more Salutations to the Sun and martial dance instructors, taking her from one hilarious bit of awkwardness to the next, all while keeping a good deal of heart. This is not a wacky, wild ride, but it's still a hilarious one, the kind that one can only hope is not to be lost in translation.

Birds of Passage (2018)

You no longer live as Wayuu

[8/10 · 28 January 2019]

Gangster films are one of the most clearly-blueprinted genres of fiction. From "Scarface" to "The Godfather" saga to Netflix's "Narcos" series, we usually start with a protagonist outside the criminal life though very aware of or close to it, suddenly tempted by something beyond their means to enter that world. Economic and professional growth follows; loss, revenge and grudges do too. A moment of reckoning usually comes near the end, with the protagonist dying or being caught at a personal low. We can commonly include other stock characters: the wild one that is close to the protagonist but dangerous to all due to their explosive nature, a consigliere father figure for guidance, the betrayer. The uniqueness of "Birds of Passage" is not in doing anything meta or original with this blueprint, but rather in following it in its own terms, bringing a lot of heavy themes along for the ride.

The movie, set between 1965 and 1980, is mostly spoken in the Wayuu language of the indigenous people of the same name of northern Colombia's La Guajira region and features several actors of that ethnic group, with the characters' decisions never being free from their culture and norms. This is clear from the start, where we are introduced to Zaida, a young woman of a high-standing Wayuu clan. When Zaida is allowed to leave her traditional one-year seclusion as she's now considered fit for marriage, she catches the eye of Rapayet. A Wayuu man of a lower family standing, Rapayet decides that Zaida is to be his wife, either because of the possibilites offered by her family prestige or out of genuine attraction (most likely a mixture of both).

Zaida's hand will only be available with a large dowry of tens of heads of cattle. Rapayet sees the opportunity to obtain the dowry by buying marihuana from his cousin and selling it to a drug-dealing U.S. hippie. These familiar relations (mostly built out of distrust to non-Wayuu) and traditional norms are what set this story apart. As business deals go wrong and Rapayet finds himself forced to kill his best friend and original business partner, things rapidly escalate in the traditional gangster movie narrative (with some elements of films like "Blue Ruin", with the stubborness and sheer willpower that goes into eye-for-an-eye family grudges) and the protagonists' completely human greed leads to major change. Designer watches become more fashionable than loincloths. Hammocks give way to beds. Huts give way to mansions. Wayuunaiki gives way to Spanish.

The commentary is strong in this movie; we have the obvious context of Indigenous peoples abandoning their ways of life in favor of the mainstream, Colombia's foreign and self-image being so influenced by drug traffic, the little-seen developed-world consumers of these drugs. My favorite however, is the simple flawed humanity in the characters. It is very easy to look at cultures in real danger of extinction and place them in a pedestal, but "Birds of Passage" intelligently avoids this by portraying these Wayuu people to be as greedy, ambitious, lustful and definitely not above using their cultural norms to get their own self-interested way, as any other group. In the "moment of reckoning", a group of Wayuu elders declares to Rapayet's family matriarch: "you no longer live like Wayuu". It is true... but they DID LIVE that way. They lived the Wayuu life and CHOSE the alternative, clearly showing the process by which not only Indigenous peoples, but most people are CHOOSING a more globalized, standarized way of life, for better and worse.

"Birds of Passage" is the perfect example of this, it chooses a well-known Western narrative path and follows it down to a t. Along the way, we get just enough "flavor" for it to feel unique. The Wayuu customs, including songs, are not the only element used here, as some magical realism imagery that seems pulled right out of "One Hundred Years of Solitude" makes an appearance, usually in the context of Wayuu supernatural beliefs, to remind us of one of Colombia's most important cultural contributions to humanity. Mentioning this "flavor" is in no way meant to be disparaging, since it is the single best and most important element of the movie. This is not an artificial flavoring agent, but rather a slow-cooked, organically-sourced, complex, balanced and deep flavor, the kind that will linger on for a while.

Siempreviva (2015)

The world is a stage

[8/10 · 25 January 2019]

The relationship between theater and film has always been very close. Vaudevilles are often seen as direct precursors to film and the amount of plays-turned-films and films-turned-plays/shows is staggering. This connection is perfectly clear in "Siempreviva", a play in film form... that apparently was never a play before a film. Set in the mid-1980s, at the height of Colombia's guerrilla attacks, entirely in a Bogotá apartment building where several families live next to each other and share spaces like the bathroom and the dining room, where most of the action takes place, "Siempreviva" (the Spanish word for liveforever plants, and with the same literal translation) economizes on locations and characters to be able to expend on their relations instead.

Three main families live in this building: Lucía and her children: Julieta and Humberto, Sergio & Victoria who make a volatile and short-on-money couple and finally lonely Carlos whose son is off to school in the USA. These families relate by sharing spaces, their respective debts and money lendings and by living in a troubled city in troubled times. These relations and the personal problems of their participants are the main edge of the movie for the first third, allowing us time to get to know them well. After this period we find out that Julieta has gone missing after an attack on the Colombian Palace of Justice where she interns, causing the rest of the characters to start an investigation to find out what happened to her.

This is not an investigative thriller however, so we eventually go back to mostly interpersonal conflict under the same roof, marked by a very Latin American sense of resignation. By having all the action occur on a single location, director Klych López follows on the footsteps of another very literally theatrical film, "Birdman", and tries to shoot the entire movie as if appearing to be a single continuous shot, although also not in real time (every shot "fade" leads to a time skip of a few weeks or months). Much like in that other movie, the result in "Siempreviva" is of a strong immersion and, to summarize, a feeling very similar to that of a play.

While the movie does not necessarily exploit every "cinematic" resource at its disposition and could probably work as well or even better on stage, it is still a very cleverly-realized telling of a story that uses the microcosm to reflect on many aspects of the inevitably political, socially complicated macrocosm that most of Latin America shares and knows well. "Siempreviva" reminds us that faith, conflict and pain have and will continue to liveforever with our human condition.

El Club de los Insomnes (2018)

Simply nice

[7/10 · 15 December 2018]

"The Insomniacs' Club" is a story with 3 core characters, less than 20 characters total, few settings and hardly any fanciful film-making. It is a simple movie... and also a nice one. With a bit of a throwback vibe to those 1990s US indie dramedies from the likes of Richard Linklater and Kevin Smith as well as similar home-grown films like "Temporada de Patos" and "Almacenados", "Insomniacs'" aims to keep it fairly slice-of-life, with the drama and laughs coming from realistic dialogues and situations that are just absurd enough to seem pulled out of genuine "convenience store in the wee hours of the morning" anecdotes.

The trio is conformed first by Danny (my personal favorite, wonderfully played against type by Cassandra Ciangherotti), the almost-obligatory indifferent, young, artsy one who, being the night-shift clerk at the convenience store that serves as the meeting point for the Club, also functions as its core. Santiago follows, perhaps the clearest Insomniac, office clerk by day, and tormented by a recurring and inconclusive dream at night, his insomnia leads him to chat with Danny during her shift. Finally we have Estela, the newcomer veterinarian who is only just starting to find herself unable to sleep since discovering her pregnancy.

Each character has a main driving force, some more time-critical (Estela having something of a deadline to go through with her planned abortion), others less (Danny wanting to leave the store for a photography school... someday). From here, the plot follows a fairly natural flow as it hints at a vague love triangle situation, which is then replaced by a certain equilibrium, then the "everything seems to be going wrong" moment and finally a nice conclusion where not everyone gets what they wanted originally nor is everything wrapped up perfectly but in which the trio is still mostly able to move on and find themselves in better places emotionally.

By this point the film makes it very clear it is perfectly content in being nice (at least in terms of the Trio). The conflict moments are hardly caused by malice from their part, they mainly originate from dealing with the jerks that surround them. Controversial topics like Estela's possible abortion are treated with a quiet respect rather than the melodrama and shock that other Mexican media would usually go for. With this overall aura of niceness permeating throughout, it's difficult to have particularly strong feelings towards the movie, it is as difficult to hate as it is to love it. It's a nice movie, that at the end leaves you feeling nicely... and sometimes, nice is nice enough.

El ángel en el reloj (2017)

Boldly imperfect

[8/10 · 31 May 2018]

This movie, whose title translates to "The Angel in the Clock" is a very brave proposition from Mexico's animation industry, which has had a very marked tendency of continuing to believe that animation is "for children", with stories that usually fall within the stereotypes of very childish humor, non-fluid animation with plain character designs and boringly simple plots (see: most of Ánima Estudios' output). "The Angel" sets itself aside from most of these from the very start by making it clear that Amelia, the protagonist, is a young girl undergoing cancer treatment.

She cannot exert herself too much (a pain since her biggest passion is dance) and she sports a shaved head (this, along with her animation made it impossible for me not to think of her as "girl Aang") throughout. With this in mind, the plot has lofty aspirations for being a Very-Important-Family-Movie-About-Emotional-Maturity, like "Bridge to Terabithia" or even "A Monster Calls". It doesn't succeed entirely, mosty due to some narrative hiccups, but Amelia's situation leads to the movie being overall surprisingly philosophical about the subject of time (clearly a key topic for anyone with such a heavy illness, and for those who surround them).

The movie is also distinguished by visuals that, again, are unlike those of most of its peers. The character and background designs owe a massive debt to sources as diverse as The Legend of Zelda, Guillermo del Toro and Studio Ghibli (at times a bit TOO massive, while I loved the character of No-Time, its name and design blur the line between homage and plagiarism to No-Face), leading to an original and very pleasing visual cocktail. A significant portion of the budget must have gone to the SFX animation because it is truly world-class for this type of cel-shaded animation, I do not exaggerate in saying that it is as good as that in a GOOD anime. All this in addition to an effective soundtrack make "The Angel" one of those rare Mexican movies that fully understands the importance of audiovisuals in cinema.

I mentioned the budget mostly going to SFX and this brings me to the weak spots of the film, one of which is that the rest of the animation doesn't live up to its high points. This is a relatively cheap production, and it shows. While there are methods to make limited resources go a long way, the character animation usually just scrapes by. While the plot manages to cleverly handle some heavy, bold themes, the actual narrative is cobbled together and the seams of where tension or coincidences are forced in definitely tend to show. Some characters, specially the typical "comic relief companions" aren't that funny and don't really transcend those roles.

This is not a perfect movie, its flaws are undeniable and noticeable, but it is also importantly brave and novel for its context. Mexican animation rarely dares to try something so different from its usual toothless, hard G-rated fare, so to see a project like "The Angel", with imaginative visuals, philosophical dialogues about time and a very atypical protagonist really makes one hopeful for the possible future of the industry (yes, even when the Here and Now are what matter most).

Almacenados (2015)

Complex simplicity

[8/10 · 6 May 2018]

"Almacenados", basically translating to "In Storage", is a deceptively simple story with two characters, pretty much a single location and a short logline: young Nin lands a job as the caretaker of a warehouse on a Monday and must learn the ropes from the lone, veteran employee Mr. Lino before he retires on Friday. In this simplicity lies an unexpectedly great story with some heavy thematic depth, think "Locke" or "My Dinner with Andre" for comparison.

For starters, Lino is EXTREMELY by-the-book, while Nin is very inquisitive, specially considering the mystery of the job. What is stored in the facility? How often do shipments come in? How are the shipments unloaded? When in the mood, Lino answers Nin's questions and fires back with a few of his own (just what kind of name IS "Nin"?). Slowly, their relationship starts to build... and then ebb, as they find out the small lies they told each other.

The real depth of the film is not really in dealing with the act of lying to others, but rather the lying to oneself. As Nin and Lino reveal more about their lives, the clearer it becomes that the lies they tell are not for the other, in lying they expect to make the realness of their own reality, well... less real. Lies are also at the center of the most heartwarming moments of the film, so the film cleverly avoids making things too clean-cut.

Just as their simple lives allow both Nin and Lino learn from each other, so does this simple story allow us to learn about unexpected relationships, lies and most importantly, what our work can be in this often-empty warehouse that is modern life.

World of Tomorrow Episode Two: The Burden of Other People's Thoughts (2017)

That is a glimmer of hope. Put it back.

[9/10 · 9 January 2018]

"World of Tomorrow" not only was an emotional bag of bricks that caught even die-hard Don Hertzfeldt fans unaware, it was also another proof of his brilliant and successful penchant for playing with form. "Rejected" and "It's Such a Beautiful Day" both deconstruct and homage the handcrafted nature of pencil-and-paper animation, but with a new all-digitally animated project, the trick was to deconstruct something else: narrative and screenwriting. The core of "WoT" is his then-4-year-old niece's unscripted ramblings, challengingly turned into a spanning, coherent and devastating 20-minute narrative. For the sequel, Hertzfeldt decided to repeat the behind-the-scenes formula and continue the narrative from the original... now based on the ramblings of a 5-year-old.

While I still prefer the original short's more ample and undefined musings on people's relation with technology and the endless possibilites of the future of this relation, glimpsed through Hertzfeldt's usual manic-depression-tinted lens, "Episode Two"'s decision to focus on a clearer theme (the relation of people with their memories and "living in the past") and a more emotional line are still undeniably fruitful in creating a masterpiece and a worthy, yet different enough sequel. Both parts share the most important characteristic of being at once cerebral and filled with powerful emotional uppers and downers that alternate in the blink of an eye.

While Hertzfeldt's niece Winona Mae is the sonic heart of the shorts, the incredible talent of Julia Pott as the brain cannot be understated. Her ability to infuse the mostly monotonous voice performance with all manner of tiny nuances to show the heartbreakingly limited emotional capacity of protagonist Emily's clones, as well as her excellent comedic timing (along with Winona's childish charm and random wit) keep the films light, fun and extremely re-watchable. Hertzfeldt's animation is brilliant as usual, with a gifted ear for rousing classical music, gorgeously trippy visuals and simply hilarious gestures on his characters' faces standing out.

Carne y arena (2017)

Virtual, magical reality

[8/10 · 29 November 2017]

To review a new medium can be a daunting task. How to keep your familiarity with the previous form from influencing your impressions of the newer one too much? When film started to establish itself, the common references were to vaudevilles and stage shows; with VR we have film and video games. Iñárritu's "Flesh and Sand" (translation of the original title in Spanish), is a cinematographic and interactive work, but with clever additions that add to the experience beyond what film and video games usually offer. With tactile elements like sand you walk on and refrigerated rooms (which could be site-specific to the Centro Cultural Tlatelolco, where I attended the experience), in addition to the VR audiovisual elements, "Sangre y Arena" becomes something of a museum-like installation or happening.

We are placed somewhere in the desert along the Mexico-U.S. border with a group of Latin American migrants as they are detained and questioned by U.S. border police. This being a post-"Biutiful" Iñárritu work, what unfolds doesn't just stick to reality, and magical realism takes hold when the migrants start telling us their stories and reasons for braving the crossing. This audiovisual segment is somewhat short at 11 minutes, but it is of note how fast these 11 minutes go by thanks to the storytelling being so engaging (and the novelty of it all). After the VR short, the experience is not over as the installation aspect continues with interviews with the real migrants whose stories inspired and informed the entire experience.

Overall, "Carne y Arena" is an innovative way to experience storytelling. While the low probability of most future "auteur VR" having the means to provide the tactile elements of this experience somewhat puts in doubt the viability of this specific type of storytelling, the possibility of a bright future is definitely heralded with this work, not just for viewers but hopefully for migrants and other vulnerable people as well, whose shoes we are closer to being in thanks to the immersiveness of stories like this one.

Tigers Are Not Afraid (2017)

Horrors are not unreal

[9/10 · 15 November 2017]

How do you craft horror for an audience that knows a reality that is often scarier than anything they've seen on-screen before? If you're writer/director Issa López, you take that real horror and, by adding a little magical realism, you end up with a brilliant piece of on-screen horror where tangible humanity is scarier than ghosts could ever be. Set in a lower-class neighborhood of an unnamed Mexican city taken over by a criminal gang known as Los Huascas, who have left a trail of abandoned children in the wake of their many murders and executions, "Tigers Are Not Afraid" follows recently-orphaned Estrella as she tries to find a new family in Shine's gang of street children while supernatural forces seem to follow her.

The film is very much a homage to Guillermo del Toro's filmography, with a symbolic insect right at the start of the film, magical chalk, scary-because-they're-hurt ghosts, clear references to well-known fairy tale tropes, horror elements used more to reflect on humanity than to scare and the overall style of mixing brutal humanity and brutal fantasy in an oddly hopeful way. It is also very much its own thing as, while Guillermo del Toro has usually chosen wars (specially the Spanish Civil War) as the perfect setting to showcase the evil in all humanity, Issa López's focus is squarely aimed at the own brand of evil of an specific human demographic: Mexicans.

GdT's ghosts are often things of gory beauty; López's ghosts and corpses, covered in blankets and plastic bags are just savage (and savagely real at that), considering real drug cartels' penchant for dramatically using corpses covered this way to "send messages" and create their self-images in Mexico. López also tackles Mexican street children and their curse word-ridden slang, Mexican politicians and their unbelievable PR-cultivated images, Mexican police ineptitude and a number of other idiosyncrasies of this culture. The end result is a film crafted in a way that does not necessarily alienate those outside the culture, but is still very clearly made by and for people belonging to it. The way it is made is also worthy of note as López's approach to filmmaking is refreshingly total. She embraces set design, costume design (I particularly loved the character of Chino wearing what is now well-known in Mexico as a preppy "politician's vest" at a key period of the film), camera-work, music (some dramatic moments are clashingly scored with the most popular of popular Latin American music styles, to brilliant effect), acting and CGI to tell her story the best way possible. In these aspects, her unquestionable MVP is young newcomer Juan Ramón López, who plays Shine. In a movie full of surprisingly good child actors, Juan Ramón simply runs away with the movie in one of those on-screen debuts that captivates and makes the viewer hopeful for all future work by this force of nature.

The movie is not perfect: some of the CGI, while brave, just doesn't work on either the technical or creative levels; the editing is a bit choppy at crucial moments; the script's usually high standard only makes the instances of bad plotting and dialogue stand out much more but these issues only hurt the end result minimally. While this is not Issa López's first movie (it is her third feature film as director), it does feel as something of an opera prima of a new stage of her career, one that "Tigers Are Not Afraid" suggests could be promising. As it stands now, to this Mexican cinephile, the film is a brilliant work that succeeds in making one confront and recognize personal and cultural demons, monsters, ghosts and tigers.

Sky Ladder: The Art of Cai Guo-Qiang (2016)

Art is a bang

[8/10 · 6 November 2017]

One of the best signs to gauge your engagement in this documentary is whether you find the idea of an artist whose main medium is fireworks and explosions original and brilliant or not. Cai Guo-Qiang is a Chinese-born artist from an artistic family, his father did traditional calligraphy and painting and, during the Cultural Revolution, somewhat found himself in hot water for it. As a reactionary posture towards this social context and the personal one stemming from their complicated relationship, along with the symbolic weight of fireworks and gunpowder as iconic Ancient Chinese inventions, Guo-Qiang rejected these traditional mediums and embraced this unexpected new one.

"Sky Ladder" does an excellent job of showing these personal and cultural dimensions to his work, specially in following the development of the titular performance. A conceptual pyrotechnic ladder extending hundreds of meters into the air tethered by a balloon, already failed on 3 attempts, Sky Ladder seems to represent Guo-Qiang's most personal work. The narrative of the film isn't entirely dedicated to Sky Ladder but it remains a constant topic and is crucial to the third act as it mostly deals with the 4th attempt to execute it, this time in a small Chinese fishing village significant to the Cai family for a number of reasons. Along the way, the documentary lets us know plenty about the artist's personal life, his early work, what art critics and personalities think of him and his work both in the East and West as well as give him plenty of opportunities to show his candor in one-on-one interviews. One such interview of note is the one where he questions why his work for the Chinese government (he designed the fireworks shows for the 2008 Olympic Ceremonies) is questioned while most Western artists' isn't, despite no government being free from sin.

The documentary is extensive and thorough (as is usually the case with director Kevin Macdonald), dealing with the politics of China as influence and sometimes foil for this artistic creation. An emotional narrative is also followed to show the artist's relation to his art becoming hugely successful and how this might clash with his original iconoclastic vision, as well as moments with his family, friends and collaborators. The profile is completed by showing that Guo-Qiang's art consists of more than fireworks displays, we see plenty of his museum-packing multimedia installations as well as his also-iconic "gunpowder paintings". Overall, "Sky Ladder" works as a very complete profile on an interesting, innovative artist, without leaving his human size unexplored and as a very small window to peek into the massive landscape of modern China and specifically its art, which has produced figures as well-known as Zhang Yimou, Ai Weiwei and yes, Cai Guo-Qiang.