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vol two: no two

06.21.02


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02/25/02

From Zappa to Zapata:

Personal Visions, Class Divisions and Magical Humanism in the films of Alfonso Cuaron

by Victor Payan

Although his debut film "Solo con tu pareja" broke Mexican box office records when it was released in 1990, director Alfonso Cuaron is probably better known for his two Hollywood films, "A Little Princess," and the modernized adaptation of Charles Dickens' "Great Expectations." While both garnered lavish praise for Cuaron and his elegantly poetic use of imagery, these two opulent films were nonetheless a visual departure from the realistic urban style of his inaugural work.

With his new film, "Y Tu Mama Tambien," which was written by his brother Carlos, Cuaron strips away the romantic trappings of his Hollywood hits and presents us with an honest and direct view of life in Mexico at this edge of the 21st Century. In this story of two pleasure seeking teenagers, Julio and Tenoch, and a road trip they take with a cousin's young wife Luisa to a beach called Boca del Cielo, Cuaron presents a tale of two Mexicos and of a young generation trying to make sense of their country's social, ethical and moral contradictions, shortcomings and hypocrisies.

A Huck Finn-like journey of discovery, where the mother road has replaced the river as metaphorical cultural current, "Y Tu Mama Tambien" shows us a complex Mexico in the process of corporate colonization, where progress means heavily-armed soldiers arresting peasants, mass demonstrations and longtime fishing communities decimated by large tourist hotel projects.

As in "A Little Princess" and "Great Expectations," however, the protagonists in "Y Tu Mama Tambien" dare to resist the class-codes which ensare their peers. By declaring their own set of rules, in this case a roguish "Charolastra Manifesto," Julio and Tenoch take a generational stand against the hypocrisy of the establishment culture, one in which a party with the President of Mexico features more bodyguards than guests. Though the teenagers' manifesto may be dubious and ultimately flawed, it is the clearest enunciation of the humanist vision which permeates Cuaron's films.

Cuaron's humanism, however, is equally informed by the Conquest of the Americas and modern globalization as it is by the lessons of the Industrial Revolution, the period from which the texts for his previous two films emerged. Cuaron's representation of the humanity of servants, the working class and the indigent, for example, reflects a race and class sensibility more in tune with Mexican culture than that of the US or Britain. While Cuaron is not critical of the middle or upper classes per se, he does take odds with the deification of wealth, where privilege, status and power can be read as vestments of a new kind of religion that can ultimately stifle greater human development and justify oppression.

By taking a stand against class expectations as they maneuver from one level to the next and back again, Cuaron's characters exercise a freedom which allows them to relate better with others around them and to seek out a more natural state of being. Conversely, it is when they submit to their class roles that they become estranged from those they care about and that which they consider natural.

Inasmuch as a treatise on human nature is at the root of Cuaron's work, the natural world is also a significant character in his films, imbuing them with a magical and omnipresent sense of interrelatedness. From the overgrown mansion and its frogs in "Great Expectations" to the snow flurry and mouse in "A Little Princess" to the crab scuttling next to Luisa on the beach in "Y Tu Mama Tambien," Cuaron demonstrates a profound respect for the natural world and its importance to the human environment. Heaven exists on earth, Cuaron asserts, only bounded by our capacity to destroy it.

The fallen leaves strewn around the faded tile floors of Paradiso Perdutto in "Great Expectations" or the leaves floating in a motel swimming pool in Cuaron's latest film represent a disruption in the natural order of things, a state in which the leaves have been blocked from continuing the natural cycle of life. And water, whether springing from a fountain, filling a pool or crashing in from the ocean, holds a redemptive power, as well as a key to a less alienated life.

It would be irresponsible to discuss Cuaron without addressing the contributions of cinematographer Emmanuel Lubeski and his almost artesanal mastery of light which has imfused Cuaron's films with a guiding spirit of hope. From the joyous colors of "A Little Princess" to the expertly muted palette of "Y Tu Mama Tambien," Lubeski's naturalistic cinematography creates a magic unparalleled by Hollywood's computer-generated and effects laden illusions.

But while revelling in the natural beauty and potential of the world, Cuaron also exhibits an honesty and social realist's understanding that could only have been gleaned from living in Mexico City, the largest city in the world and one in which social, political and cultural extremes must be confronted every day. It has resulted in a vision in which the accident victims on the road to global "progress" can not be ignored, forgotten or erased in glitzy ad campaigns or dazzling special effects.

Once again, it is Cuaron's sense of the interconnectedness of things that allows him to forge a cacophony of cell phones, sex, drugs, rock en español, peasant villages and celebrations, Chilango slang, and even Frank Zappa, whose song "Watermelon in Easter Hay" played an instrumental role in crafting the tone of the film, into one harmonic voice. So from Zappa to Zapata, the modern Mexican vision of Cuaron reminds us that while our own Boca del Cielo may yet exist, we will only find it if we embark on the journey together and dare to save it from the outmoded class expectations that will ultimately alienate us from each other and turn our beautiful world into global tourist trap.


Victor Payan is an award-winning writer and humorist. He has served as associate producer for the PBS documentaries "The U.S.-Mexican War: 1846-1848," "The Border" and "Searching for San Diego: San Ysidro."