Mercenarios de la Muerte (1983)

With the release in 1973 of "Enter the Dragon", the world was introduced to the great talent of martial artist Bruce Lee. His tragic death, only six days before the film's release (it would had been Lee's first film for an American studio), turned him into an icon, a real action films legend. The enormous worldwide success of "Enter the Dragon" would result in a fever for anything related to martial arts which would be reflected in the vast amount of martial arts films produced not only in Hong Kong, but in every corner of the world. Nevertheless, those attempts to get into the genre often resulted in bizarre films: in England, Hammer FIlms would produce the hybrid of gothic horror and kung fu "The Legend of the 7 Golden Vampires" in 1974, while in Spain the comedic duo of the Calatrava brothers would add their comedy to "Los Kalatava contra el imperio del karate" (1974). In Mexico, famous masked wrester Santo would star in "La furia de los karatekas" and "El Puño de la Muerte" (both released in 1982), but the wackiest mexican kung fu movie would be released the following year with the title "Mercenarios de la Muerte".

In "Mercenarios de la Muerte", the story deals with an ancient sect of asian monks belonging to the temple of Shiolang, whom after a great war against the Black Dragon sect they were forced to travel far away from their lands, to a small town in northern Mexico were they took their relics and traditions. Years went by and the monks lived peacefully in Mexico, becoming an important part of the community and establishing a martial arts school. However, at the turn of the century, a new threat appears in the horizon for the monks, as mercenary Sung Ya (Armando Silvestre), the last disciple of the Black Dragon sect, has gathered a gang of warriors from all over the world with the intention of destroying the monks in order to steal the ancient relics of their new temple. The venerable master Tata (Emilio Fernández) knows of this great danger, and asks master Jin Ho (Aries Bautista) to pick amongst the temple's most advanced students a warrior to defend the temple from Sung Ya. This mission will be given to two youngsters, Mai Ko (Gregorio Casal) and Chang Piau (Jaime Moreno), who will have to face the mercenaries of death.

As can be see give its plot line, "Mercenarios de la Muerte" (literally "Mercenaries of Death") pretends to make a mix of Westens and kung fu movies. While the idea sounds bizarre, it isn't that strange given the way that the modern martial arts film as devised by Bruce Lee and Wei Lo was very influenced by the archetypes and stories from classic Westerns (Bruce Lee's own "Meng long guo jiang" is the perfect example). The screenplay for "Mercenarios de la Muerte", written by Avinadain Bautista, not only borrows Western elements, but in fact sets its plot in a small wild west town. The story has the intention of being an epic of gran scale, with the arrival of Sung Ya forcing the monks to prepare themselves to fight for the town that gave them shelter. However, while creating this hybrid of Western and martial arts writer Avinadain Bautista opts for exploiting old cliches from both genres, diluting whatever epic was intended to be put in the film in favor of long training sequences, supposedly philosophic dialogs that doesn't say a thing, and poor saloon fights, forgetting to develop his characters' drama, leaving them as walking stereotypes.

But even if the screenplay is of a mediocre quality, the film could still have been resulted in an interesting (if odd) martial arts film if it wasn't for the disastrous work of directing from filmmakers Manuel Muñoz and Gregorio Casal. From starters it's clear that the film was lacking in terms of budget and production values, as it seems to had been shot in forgotten sets from Estudios América's old Westerns. Still, this wouldn't be too much of trouble if it wasn't for the simplistic camera set ups chosen by the filmmakers to tell their tale, set ups that only make notorious that the scenery is fake. In the same way, the craftsmanship of the figts (which should be the highlight of any kung fu movie) is deficient, not only because of the poor execution by the fighters (Aries Bautista is perhaps an exception) but also because of the way the fights are filmed, as it's impossible to cover the fighter's lack of skill and it becomes apparent that the fights are fake. The cinematography, in charge of veterans such as Fernando Colín and Ángel Bilbatua, ranges from regular to pretty bad, as the poorly lit climatic fight can exemplify, a final fight where it's hard to see what's happening.

Acting is another big negative element in "Mercenarios de la Muerte". The fact that legendary actor and director Emilio "el Indio" Fernández takes place in a project such as this one is perhaps symptomatic of the poor state in which the mexican film industry was submerged in those times. Fernández' performance as Tata (a venerable Shiolang monk unexplainably dressed as a cowboy) limits basically to recite his line with a certain severity, though at times one can see glimpses of the talent and charm of the old filmmaker. The protagonists, Jaime Moreno and Gregorio Casal, make what's probably the word job in their careers. Moreno, who is arguably the lead character, limits himself to look nice for the camera and trying to look gracefully at moving like a kung fu fighter. Casal's character is relatively more complex, but the actor is unable to establish this supposed depth and fills his act with clichés. Armando SIlvestre is probably the only cast member that understood that the only thing that could work in this debacle was to ham it up and exaggerate a half-baked impersonation of Fu Manchu.

It would be hard to find something to praise in this weird martial arts flick where incongruence and incoherence are a constant thing. And while one could put the blame for this chaos to the low budget, poor production values and mediocre script, it's actually a matter of bad directing what generates the vast majority of the film's problems. On one hand, there is not a clear definition of the space in which the story is set, so at times the temple seems to be near the town and at times it's too far from it (conveniently for the plot). As mentioned before, there isn't any care for the film's visual narrative, as if the camera had been placed in a random place without thinking about what would be on the frame. Finally, the sound design is another big problem in the film, as given the lack of sound recordings, the film is dubbed in the worst possible way: no synchronicity, no dramatic continuity, and even some actors dub characters they weren't playing at all. This can only be seen as a sign of problems during production and postproduction, and perhaps that's why there are two directors and two cinematographers credited in the film.

Despite being one of the greater disasters in mexican filmography, "Mercenarios de la Muerte" still has a bizarre charm. Maybe it's the fact that's so unusual to see a martial arts film made in Mexico, or the mixed emotions at seeing great actors of old (Fernández and the Junco siblings) getting involved in a mess like this. Maybe it's the great naiveté and ignorance that seems to have existed in the mind of the film's makers given the lack of verisimilitude the film often has. Whatever it is, the only certain is that involuntarily, "Mercenarios de la Muerte" makes for a great comedy of errors in a very surreal way. Amongst the many martial arts films done after Bruce Lee's great success (and there were quite a lot), "Mercenarios de la Muerte" is without a doubt one of the strangest of all time.

2/10

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Hecho en México (2012)

To make an accurate portrait of the identity of a nation is not an easy task, as whomever attempts to do it will face the fact that said identity rarely comes from an absolute homogeneous cultural source, but instead is the result of the multiple cultures that form said nation. Cultures that normally are quite different from each other despite belonging to the same country. And yet, this is precisely what producers Lynn Fainchtein and Duncan Bridgeman attempt in the documentary "Hecho en México": to make a portrait of Mexico's national identity, a portrait to identify the Mexicanity of almost 116 millions of people of different cultural backgrounds. To do this, Fainchtein and Bridgeman took as starting point a theme that both of them clearly dominate, the music (as Fainchtein has been music supervisor of several feature length films, while Bridgeman is one of the founders of renowned world music project "1 Giant Leap"). Thus, "Hecho en México" is a documentary that uses Mexican music in an attempt to portrait the identity of Mexicans. However, things do not result that good.

In "Hecho en México" (literally "Made in Mexico"), a large group of Mexican musicians (and a couple of foreigners) lend their talents to mix their different styles and make a soundtrack to reflect Mexico's national identity. Mixed by Bridgeman, music becomes the guide to join several interviews with musicians, artists, philosophers and other intellectuals, whom offer their opinions about what is Mexicanity for them. Those opinions move around several themes, such as love, death and religion (amongst others), looking for the ways Mexicanity arises around all these concepts. And all this takes place as the filmmakers visit several corners in the country, showing its natural beauty, its many towns, cities, its inhabitants and their respective cultures, and finally how all those come to reflect the Mexicanity in their diverse artistic expressions. Music comes as the soundtrack for this journey, with the musicians moving along with the filmmakers through Mexico's jungles, through its ancient ruins, as well as through its streets and roads.

Produced without following an established screenplay, "Hecho en México" is build with the interviews with the several celebrities that give their two cents about Mexicanity, talking about the different concepts that form the film's structure. Besides the aforementioned themes of love, death and religion, other concepts are discussed, like spirituality, drugs, the border with the United States, and the relationships between the sexes. However, this construction, based only in a group of pretty abstract and vague concepts results in pretty shallow interviews where there isn't really the care to follow a definitive goal, and it's just talking for the sake of talking. And this is not really something to blame the interviewees, as it would seemed that there wasn't really any direction in the interview besides the abstraction of the concept. Mexicanity is such a huge idea that by being portrayed in such a vague way makes the film to fall in common places and, on some occasions, ridiculous opinions. Of course, there are notable exceptions, but the common denominator in the interviews is shallowness.

British filmmaker Duncan Bridgeman takes the director's seat and is in charge of giving an order to the collection of ideas that form "Hecho en México", and to do this, he puts to good use his skill as sound mixer to transform Mexican music in the backbone of the movie. As he had previously done as a member of "1 Giant Leap" (project where Bridgeman, along Jamie Catto, recorded and mixed music and images from all over the world to create a new audiovisual concept), Bridgeman combines with great skill the whole specter of Mexican music, traditional and modern, rural and urban, northern and southern; achieving very attractive musical numbers that shape "Hecho en México". Thus, Bridgeman's mix results in a musical hybrid where Mexico's many different music styles are fused together in a single sound. This is certainly the greatest achievement in "Hecho en México", or better said, it's only achievement, as that definition of Mexicanity that the interviews leave at mere pseudo-intellectualism, is actually discovered by the musicians in the fusion of their talents and rhythms.

Without a doubt the music mixed by Bridgeman is the main attraction in the film, though not the only one, as the movie has an excellent work of cinematography courtesy of Gregory W. Allen, Lorenzo Hagerman and Alexis Zabe, whom manage to capture images of great beauty. Nevertheless, the technical merits aren't enough to save "Hecho en México" from its many flaws, whom are focused in the ironic lack of identity that the film suffers. In other words, the documentary "Hecho en México" seems to try to be at the same time a music video, a promotional for tourism, and a sociological study. Sadly, it's only as a long music video that the film somehow manages to work, as while the purely musical moments are quite interesting, the way the interviews give form to the movie only puts light on the fact that neither Bridgeman nor Fainchtein had an idea of what Mexicanity is. And while as a foreigner Duncan Bridgman could had offered an interesting perspective at watching Mexico from afar, he instead opts for the cliché, the common places and portraits Mexico as a mere tourist would do.

Certainly, director Duncan Bridgeman has a great talent as musical producer, talent that he has already shown in "1 Giant Leap" and that once again he exploits to the max in "Hecho en México". However, the main difference between his previous "1 Giant Leap" and this film is that the former is a project without any pretensions beyond the music, the ambitious documentary "Hecho en México" tries to define a complex question and fails completely at it. The ideas exposed, in an attempt at being rebellious and irreverent, end up being ridiculous and maudlin, which wouldn't be that bad if it wasn't for the fact that in the end they say nothing. Shallow, empty and without an identity of its own, "Hecho en México" is sadly a movie that can only be enjoyed as a postmodernist display of Mexican music, because as a proper documentary it's a complete failure.

4/10
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Incubo sulla città contaminata (1980)

Without a doubt one of the key moments in the history of Italian horror took place in 1978 with the release of American filmmaker George A. Romero's "Dawn of the Dead". Distributed by Dario Argento with the name "Zombi", the film became a total success and the Italian film industry saw in Romero's zombie epic the path to follow in the making of new horror films. So, the following year would see the release of "Zombi 2" by director Lucio Fulci, and even when it had nothing to do with Romero's film, it was named that way to capitalize in the success of "Dawn of the Dead". Applying the classic stylization and aggressive violence of Italian horror, "Zombi 2" also was a great success, so soon more films about the living dead began to appear, copying the model established by Fulci. Italian horror was gaining new force thanks to the zombies, but just like it happened before to Spaghetti Weseterns, the clones rarely reached the level of quality of the original. "Incubo sulla città contaminata" is a classic example of this, as it's closer to involuntary comedy than to true zombie horror.

Known in America as "Nightmare City" (though the literal translation is "Nightmare in the contaminated city"), the film begins when reporter Dean Miller (Hugo Stiglitz) is assigned with the job of interviewing Dr. Otto Hagelberg, famed scientist who designed a nuclear plant where a damage has been reported. Miller goes to the airport to wait for Hagelberg's arrival, when a an unidentified plane makes a forced landing in one of the runways. When the local police surrounds the plane, Miller gets closer to watch the facts. The door is opened and a group of mutant zombies comes out from the plane, armed with axes and knives. A bloody battle begins between the police and the zombies, while Miller manages to escape without being seen. Desperate, Miller tries to warn the population about it, but he is stopped by General Murchison (Mel Ferrer), who doesn't allow the news to be known. The plague spreads, and Miller decides to find his wife Anna (Laura Trotter) to the hospital where she works, in order to escape from the city that has become a nightmare of death and destruction.

Written by veteran Piero Regnoli collaborating with Antonio Cesare Corti and the Spanish writer Luis María Delgado, "Incubo sulla città contaminata" isn't technically a zombie film, as the creatures that it shows are radioactive mutants with a taste for human flesh and the necessary lucidity to handle weapons and drive vehicles. Nevertheless, the story follows closely the classic pattern of a zombie movie, with the main characters trying to survive in the middle of the chaos that engulfs their city as the plague spreads and society begins to crumble. The story does handle several interesting ideas, like for example its heavy handed ecological message, its clearly anti military stance and its use of intelligent and agile zombies as the monsters of the film (predating the running zombie of modern films). Unfortunately, those ideas are lost in a screenplay plagued with holes, incoherence and a bunch of characters making illogical actions, that more than once result in absurd situations of great involuntary comedy.

The execution from director Umberto Lenzi (famous for his cannibal horror film "Il paese del sesso selvaggio") doesn't help much to solve this big problem, on the contrary, the poor craftsmanship the film has make even more ridiculous the situations that take place in "Incubo sulla città contaminata". Nevertheless, if there's anything worthy of recognition in Lenzi's work is the fact that he keeps action a constant in the film, with a frantic rhythm that avoids tedium. Despite the low quality of the whole production, Lenzi achieves to make a couple of quite effective scenes where his eye for mise-en-scène. These are the attack to the dances at the TV station, and the big attack to the hospital, two scenes where Lenzi manages to transmit the atmosphere of chaos that the story has. Sadly, Lenzi fails to keep this level of quality through the film, and "Incubo sulla città contaminata" ends up filled with technical problems, that range from an awful work of make-up to a pretty uneven editing, not to mention a somewhat mediocre cinematography (by Hans Burman, whom years later would do the cinematography for the film "Tesis").

The acting in the film is another of the biggest problems in "Incubo sulla città contaminata", as in general the quality in this element is pretty poor. Leading the cast is Mexican actor Hugo Stiglitz, playing reporter Dean Miller, and actually his work isn't that bad. While he lacks the classic image of the hero, Stiglitz manages to transmit an intensity pretty appropriate for his desperate character, and he is perhaps the only actor in the film taking the movie seriously. Mel Ferrer, with his days of "Scaramouche" (1952) long gone, makes an uninspired turn as General Murshison, as if he wasn't really interested in the resulting film. The same can be said of Spanish actor Francisco Rabal, who had the main roles in Luis Buñuel's classics "Nazarín" and "Viridiana", and in this film makes a pretty poor performance as Major William Holmes. Nevertheless, if the acting from those actors looks pretty average, the rest of the cast is completely awful, beginning with the work of Laura Trotter, whom seemed to base her entire performance in screaming constantly.

As mentioned before, "Incubo sulla città contaminata" is a film full of technical problems, something that wouldn't be that bad if it wasn't for the fact that the film also suffers from a poorly developed screenplay where things take place randomly and even characters and subplots are introduced without a reason other than to extend the movie's runtime. While director Umberto Lenzi has demonstrated in the past to be a competent filmmaker, in "Incubo sulla città contaminata" there's nothing that could give ground to that argument. However, something pretty remarkable about "Incubo sulla città contaminata" is how oddly funny it is. While maybe this wasn't done consciously, as the Lenzi's film unfolds and the story moves towards absurd, soon the ridicule of the scenes becomes downright comedy stuff. Despite its innumerable technical problems, there's in "Incubo sulla città contaminata" a certain charm in the exaggerated things that take place on screen that's impossible not to think that the crew had a great time making the film.

With a terribly awful screenplay, mediocre acting and a craftsmanship that leaves a lot to be desired, it's hard to recommend "Incubo sulla città contaminata" as a good example of Italian horror cinema, as even when compared to other films of its time it's still a pretty bad movie. However, if there's anything that Lenzi has achieved in "Incubo sulla città contaminata", that is the film's skill to avoid falling in tedium. Despite its many flaws (or perhaps due to them), the film ends up being a quite funny experience, though one that's probably not everyone's cup of tea. The truth is, if one's looking for true horror cinema of good quality, the best that one can do is to search somewhere else; but if what one's looking is a piece of involuntary comedy, "Incubo sulla città contaminata" from director Umberto Lenzi could actually be a pretty good choice.

4/10
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Colosio: El Asesinato (2012)

March the 23rd, 1994, the presidential candidate from the Partido Revolucionario Institucional (PRI, Institutional Revolutionary Party), Luis Donaldo Colosio, leads a campaign rally in the neighborhood of Lomas Taurinas, in the city of Tijuana. Colosio finishes his speech and steps down the stage, walking through the multitude of followers who cheer him towards the vehicle that would take him to another event. As he walks, a man gets close with a gun and shoots him in the head. Moments later, Colosio would receive a two more shots in the middle of the chaos, and later he would die in the hospital from the wounds. Colosio's assassination would leave a profound mark in Mexicos' political history, as it left multiple doubts about the identity of those who were behind the candidate's death. While the official version determined that the killing was the work of a lone shooter, the theory of a conspiracy within the Party has always been in the mind of the public. And this theory becomes the basis for a movie directed by filmmaker Carlos Bolado, who tackles the killing at Lomas Taurinas in "Colosio: El Asesinato".

Set in 1994, "Colosio: El Asesinato" (literally "Colosio: The Assassination") begins with the news of the death of the presidential candidate (Enoc Leaño) at Lomas Taurinas, seen on TV by agent Andrés Vázquez (José María Yazpik) and his family. As the official investigation begins, the President (Nando Estevané), through his adviser "the Doctor" (Daniel Giménez Cacho), orders a secret inquiry, running parallel to the official one but specifically aimed to find the intellectual authors of the crime. Andrés is called to lead the operation under the orders of the Licenciate (Odiseo Bichir), to whom he reports the result of the investigation. Andrés gathers his most trusted agents and begin to do research on those close to Colosio's presidential campaign, while in Tijuana, the local chief of police, Benítez (Dagoberto Gama) coordinates his operation with Andres' team. However, things are complicated when a mysterious assassin is killing all the suspects that Andres and Benítez are identifying. Someone doesn't want the truth regarding Colosio's assassination to be known.

Written by Hugo Rodríguez, Miguel Necoechea and director Carlos Bolado himself, "Colosio: El Asesinato" is a political thriller that details on one side the police work of investigation done by Andrés and Benítez around the crime, and on the other unfolds the complex net of secret alliances that run behind the scenes in Mexican politics. While the movie declares initially that the story is a work of fiction, the screenplay of "Colosio: El Asesinato" includes characters clearly based on the real protagonists of Mexican politics of the time and, with certain historical liberties, builds up its plot following the popular conspiracy theory in a way similar to Oliver Stone's "JFK". Beyond the politics, it's interesting the agile way in which Rodríguez, Necoechea and Bolado construct their plot with the goal of keeping the action flowing smoothly without leaving aside their harsh criticism against the Partido Revolucionario Institucional. Nevertheless, there are certain elements that aren't that well done, like the romantic side story, which feels out of place in the film.

The work of directing done by Carlos Bolado is effective and dynamic, moving through the different narratives without problems and showing a skilled use of devices such as montage sequences and flashbacks.In general, the visual narrative that Bolado employs is appropriate and his greatest achievement is the creation of an ominous atmosphere of fear and uncertainty that grows through the film as Andrés' investigation makes progress. Carefully, Bolado builds up the sensation of paranoia that begins to surround Andrés and his team as their work takes them to the inner circles of politics. The work of cinematography done by Andrés León Becker is traditional but effective, using a specific atmosphere for each location in the investigation, though everyone, from the arid desert of Tijuana to the cold walls of the Government's offices, have in common the feeling of desolation. It's worth to point out the work of Sandra Cabriada as production designer, managing to recreate the period of the film with accuracy and verisimilitude.

Leading the cast, actor José María Yazpik makes a good job as agent Andrés, evoking with ease the self-confidence and professionalism of his role. While Yazpik has a somewhat limited range, in the role of Andrés he finds a character that allows him to truly exploit his talent and screen presence. And while the movie has in Yazpik a defined protagonist, the film's plot allows the rest of the secondary characters to have their moment to shine. Fortunately, the cast makes the best of this and deliver excellent performances in the supporting roles. This is particularly note worthy in the case of Dagoberto Gama, whom makes a terrific job as the lonely Benítez, and Daniel Giménez Cacho, truly excellent as the Doctor (thinly veiled portrait of José María Córdoba Montoya), the Machiavellian presidential adviser. Giménez Cacho's acting shines in its restrained intensity, which leaves mark of his sinister presence even when he is not on screen. Without a doubt, the best acting in the film.

There are also pretty good performances by Tenoch Huerta, Luis Ernesto Franco and Karina Gidi, who play the agents working in Andrés' team (Gidi in particular is remarkable). However, there are unfortunately two performances of bad quality that diminish the strength of the film. The first is Odiseo Bichir's work, who results too stagy in his performance as the Licenciate, looking artificial and out of place given the tone of the film. Kate del Castillo is the other one, lacking screen presence in her role as Yazpik's wife and leaving her character like a side note. Nevertheless, in her case it certainly matters that her character is too underdeveloped, limiting her to represent the role of a wife forgotten by an Andrés too absorbed by his work. And this is a problem in the film, as at times it gets lost in its many subplots and leaves more than once without too much development. Also, the film falls in the big problem of conspiracy theory stories (specially those based on real life events): its argument tends to force a bit too much the common sense and the suspension of disbelief.

Nevertheless, it's commendable that director Carlos Bolado manages to create an atmosphere of paranoia so strong that those flaws do not stop the enjoyment of the movie. "Colosio: El Asesinato" may not become a classic of the genre, however, it results a very well done film that dares to touch a subject that mainstream Mexican cinema had not tackled before (in independent cinema there is the low budget "Magnicidio. Complot en Lomas Taurinas" done in 2002). Despite its problems, Carlos Bolado's "Colosio: El Asesinato" is an intelligent thriller that beyond its political agenda, shows how the assassination of Luis Donaldo Colosio is a huge shadow that still hangs over Mexican politics.

7/10
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Días de Gracia (2011)

Clash of wills, passions and dreams that are left in the field, football soccer has such a very special charm that has turned it into the most popular sport in the world. And within football, there's nothing like the fascination that's lived during a Wolrd Cup. As traditionally occur in events of this magnitude, crime tends to decrease during the days the World Cup takes place, in some kind of "days of grace" of sorts in which everyone's attention is focused on following the progress of the national team in the World Cup. This phenomenon sets the background for the feature length debut of Mexican director Everardo Valerio Gout, whom after more than a decade of producing commercials and musical videos (not to mention several short films), takes over the big screen with "Días de Gracia", an ambitious project in which two of the most representative elements of life in modern Mexico are brought together: crime and football soccer.

"Días de Gracia" (literally "Days of Grace") consists of three stories that take place during the last 3 World Cups: Korea-Japan 2002, Germany 2006 and South Africa 2010. In 2002, Lupe (Tenoch Huerta) is a young police officer trying to do his best despite the rampant corruption and indifference of society. After winning an award for his performance stopping a gang of criminals, Lupe is invited to belong to the team of Commander José (José Sefami), which will take him to the darkest side of his job. In 2006, a man (Carlos Bardem) is kidnapped outside his home, ending up tied and locked in a basement. Tortured both physically and mentally by his captors, he decides to win the trust of Iguana (Kristian Ferrer), the young kid in charge of watching him. Finally, in 2010 ,Susana is a housewife who one day awakes to the news that her husband has been kidnapped. Susana now will have to face the situation and try to keep her family together.

Written by Everardo Gout himself (along David Rutsala), "Días de Gracia" moves between time frames as it weaves the three stories, which are pretty different from each other. By the nature of the situation it depicts, the story of the kidnapped man is of a more intimate and personal drama, to the point of having the thoughts of the character as a narration on the experience. The opposite is the story of Lupe, which is one of greater action as it narrates how the young cop enters the world of corruption and hopelessness that is life of a policeman in Mexico city. In middle ground between these two extremes is the story of Susana, which carries a tone of family drama, charged of heated discussions between her, her brother-in-law and the agent working on the case. With such different elements, Gout builds up a plot that explores three different sides of a kidnapping, as he cleverly plays with time frames to enhance the narrative's rhythm.

As it tends to happen in filmmakers with a background in commercial and musical videos, Gout reveals himself as a director with a big preference for a defined visual style in the film. In "Días de Gracia", Gout and his cinematographer Luis David Sansans develop a distinctive look for each of the subplots. From the arid desolation of 2002, to the cold and claustrophobic confinement of 2006, while going through the neutral balance found in the 2010 plot. However, and while this truly gives the movie an identity of its own, there is a certain excess in the stylization in Gout's visual narrative. As if the director was decided to use any possible camera angle, as long as it looks cool and interesting, without caring if they truly add something relevant to his film. Anyways, it's worth to point out that in the midst of this excess, Gout and Sansans achieve some well done scenes, particularly in long sequences, where Sansans' talent shines.

But the strongest element in "Días de Gloria" is not the cinematography, but its cast, which is one of the most solid ones that a Mexican film has shown in 2011. As Lupe, Tenoch Huerta makes a remarkable performance worthy of recognition; natural and effective as the idealist policeman facing the enormous monster that is crime in Mexico city. Huerta is a revelation of talent, managing to transmit the difficult transformation that his character lives with frightening verisimilitude. Dolores Heredia, playing Susana, is another of the highlights of the cast, as even when her story (2010) is the least developed of the three, Heredia achieves a naturalness and an incredible strength in her performance as a truly desperate housewife. Spanish actor Carlos Bardem once again delivers a notable performance as the kidnapped man of 2006, as without using his face (his character is hooded 95% of his screen time), he truly transmits the fear and pain of his horrifying experience.

In this his feature length debut, Everardo Gout manages to give a fresh vision to a theme that has almost become a common place in modern Mexican cinema (kidnappings). However, he can't stop falling in certain problems that, while not exactly an obstacle to enjoy his film, they do diminish what could had been a greater work. For starters, Gout doesn't manage to escape the shadow of González Iñarritu's "Amores Perros", which is the most obvious reference, in both style and theme, as Gout employs a narrative a bit too similar to the one of the Iñarritu-Arriaga team. Another thing is the fact that Gout falls in a common problem in this style of narratives: one story is considerably weaker than the others. In this case, Susana's tale (2010), which is almost left aside in front of the more interesting (and better executed) ones from 2002 and 2006. The difference between those and the one from 2010 is notorious, and it's sad since not only it was the only story with a strong female character, but it was also a remarkable performance by Dolores Heredia.

Without counting those details, and the afore mentioned stylistic excess that Gout commits, this Mexican-French co-production is a highly engrossing movie that, while not entirely original in terms of them, this is compensated by an interesting visual design and a firm technical knowledge that reveal Gout as a filmmaker with w well-defined cinematographic vision, an explosive sense of rhythm, and a great skill to gather a talented team to back him up. Despite its problems, "Días de Gracia" is a dignified debut for the Mexican director Everardo Gout.

7/10
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This review was originally published in Spanish for Habitación 101 in April the 14th of 2012. Habitación 101 is a great site to check for news and reviews on cinema and theatre in Spanish.

La Revolución de Juan Escopeta (2011)

From 1910 to 1920, Mexico was immersed in a series of armed conflicts known collectively the Mexican Revolution, as they resulted in major social changes and as a whole formed the most important sociopolitical event in Mexican history of the 20th century. It all began with the uprising of Francisco I. Madero against the dictatorship of Porfirio Díaz, who had been in power for almost 35 years. Madero's rebellion was followed by many leaders across the country (like Pancho Villa and Emiliano Zapata), and their Revolution succeeded in ending Díaz' regime in 1911. Unfortunately, that would only be the beginning of the Revolution, as the conflicts between the rebels would continue with General Victoriano Huerta's betrayal and eventual coup d'état. This period of history would mark generations of Mexicans, and naturally, cinema would reflect its relevance. Jorge A. Estrada's "La Revolución de Juan Escopeta" is a film set right in the middle of the conflict, but what makes it even more interesting it's the fact that it's an animated film, in an industry that rarely produces animated movies.

"La Revolución de Juan Escopeta" (literally "The Revolution of Juan Escopeta") is set in 1914, during the battles against Victoriano Huerta's army. It's the story of a young kid named Gaspar or Gapo (Ulises Nieto) to friends. Gapo lives with his mother (Dolores Heredia) in a small mining town named Mineral de la Luz, as his father has died and his brother is away, having joined Pancho Villa's army. One night, Huerta's army arrives to town while Gapo is playing in the countryside, and when he returns he finds his house robbed and his mother dead. Gapo is taken by Huerta's army in order to recruit him by force, but he is saved by a mysterious gunslinger named Juan Escopeta (Joaquín Cosío). Escopeta is heading north, and when Gapo learns this he decides to join Escopeta, as his brother's army is there. Escopeta reluctantly accepts, and the two begin a journey through the Mexican heartland, which they will try to cross despite the constant battles between Huerta's army and the rebel forces. And to make things worse, another gunslinger is after Escopeta's head.

Written by director Jorge A. Estrada himself, "La Revolución de Juan Escopeta" follows essentially the classic pattern of a road movie in which two very different characters, the idealist Gapo and the tough Juan Escopeta, will learn to work together and an unlikely friendship is formed. All with a quite appropriate Western setting. Perhaps it's not the most original plot line, but an interesting element is the fact that Estrada builds his story around several historical moments of the Mexican Revolution, as the two travelers find themselves involved in some of its major conflicts such as the Battle of Zacatecas. While not without problems, Estrada succeeds in developing convincingly his two main characters, whom through their epic adventure also struggle with their very own personal dramas. Gapo, eager to follow his brothers' steps, faces the reality of a war that keeps taking lives; while Juan meditates about his mercenary ways and rediscovers humanity in his relationship with Gapo, to whom he becomes a father figure.

Director Jorge A. Estrada's visual narrative is traditional yet effective, unfolding his story at a nice rhythm, balancing the mix of comedy, drama and adventure that makes the core of the plot; and all without betraying its Western roots, which are constantly felt not only in the visual imagery, but in the way it tackles more mature themes, after all, "La Revolución de Juan Escopeta" is set in the middle of a war. In fact, while an animated film aimed towards a younger audience, "La Revolución de Juan Escopeta" doesn't shy away from serious topics, with Gapo discovering that the reality of war is very different than the games he played with his friends. Unfortunately, while Estrada displays good skills as a storyteller, the work of animation done in the film is mediocre at best, downright awful at worst. The film is a classic 2D animation, with some CG enhancements; but while the character design is for the most part good, the quality of the animation is very poor in almost every aspect.

As a saving grace, the quality of the voice acting is for the most part quite effective. As the young Gapo, Ulises Nieto is good in the role of a young boy about to discover the world. Perhaps some of his expressions sound anachronic, though that's more a failure on the screenplay than on his acting. However, it's Joaquín Cosío whom steals the film as the taciturn gunslinger Juan Escopeta. A character that's more about attitude than anything else, Cosío achieves to give a well defined personality to the tired gunslinger. Bruno Bichir plays Cuervo, the mysterious gunslinger who's after Escopeta, and while his performance is good, it does get a bit over the top at times. Julieta Egurrola has a brief but important role in the film as a lonely nun protecting an abandoned church, and her voice work is pretty good. The rest of the cast is effective, though certainly less impressive. Perhaps the weakest link amongst the main cast is Dolores Heredia, who delivers a pretty poor performance as Gapo's mother.

Estrada's "La Revolución de Juan Escopeta" has many remarkable elements to its favor, beginning with a truly inspired screenplay that actually develops its characters and story without limiting itself to just looking cool or being funny. Granted, it has some moments of tedium, and at times it does feel a tad episodic, but as a whole, "La Revolución de Juan Escopeta" is a very engaging tale of friendship and loyalty. In fact, it's so good that it's actually a real tragedy how awful the quality of the animation is. Developed by Animex (creators of "La Leyenda de la Nahuala"), the work of 2D animation is mess that never really rises up to the level the screenplay deserved. And it's not really a problem in Estrada's directing, as in terms of narrative the film flows nicely, with Estrada picking the right angles to tell his story. The problem is simply in the execution of the animation, which seems to had been done cheaply to save money. To the point that makes one wonder how much better the film would be if it had been a live action movie and not an animated one.

Animated films are scarce in Mexican industry, a filmmaking technique that has never been fully explored, not even during the years of the so-called "Golden Age of Mexican Cinema". In recent times, this has changed and more and more Mexican studios are making attempts at producing an animated film. Unfortunately, the real classic of modern Mexican animation has not been produced yet. "La Revolución of Juan Escopeta" could had been this classic, but while it had a good screenplay, it just lacked quality in everything else. It's sad, because many times it's in the screenplay where most films have their Achilles' heel. In the end, if one manages to ignores the awfully quality of the animation, "La Revolución de Juan Escopeta" will reveal itself as a truly engaging and entertaining story.

6/10

Satanás (2007)

In the afternoon of the 4th of December of 1986, a man known as Campo Elías Delgado arrived to the luxurious Pozzetto Restaurant in Bogotá, Colombia, and after eating, opened fire on the diners in a shooting spree that would later be known as the Pozzetto Massacre. The killing was only stopped when Delgado was shot by the police while he was reloading. It would later be discovered that before the Pozzetto killings, he also had killed three more people, including his own mother. The case shocked Colombia, particularly as the details of Delgado's life began to be made public. Writer Mario Mendoza Zambrano, a former classmate of Delgado, was particularly interested in the case and in the year 2002 published a fictionalized account of Delgado's last days titled "Satanás", in which Mendoza uses the Pozetto Massacre as basis to explore the nature of evil. The novel earned lots of praise in its native country and was soon adapted for a film, which was directed by Andres Baiz and released in 2007 with the same title, "Satanás".

The film opens with a woman named Alicia (Marcela Valencia) who confesses Father Ernesto (Blas Jaramillo) her desire of murdering her children to prevent them the suffering of living in poverty. Father Ernesto tries to comfort her but later, Alicia fulfills her desire, deeply affecting Father Ernesto, who had already in a crisis of faith due to his growing feelings towards his assistant Irene (Isabel Gaona). In the same neighborhood lives Paola (Marcela Mar), a beautiful woman who works at he marketplace, struggling to earn some money. Two friends, Pablo and Alberto (Andrés Parra and Diego Vásquez respectively) propose her to join them in a con to rob wealthy businessmen. Finally, there's Eliseo (Damián Alcázar), a Vietnam veteran and English teacher whom enjoys literature but has never been able to maintain social relationships. Eliseo lives with his mother (Teresa Gutiérrez), who constantly berates his son for his lack of success in life. Eliseo's resentment towards life begins to grow stronger, and his mind is a bomb ready to explode.

Adapted by director Andrés Baiz himself, "Satanás" (literally "Satan") takes several liberties with Mendoza's novel (the main one being the omission of a fourth story, the one of a character named Andrés. It's also set in current times instead of the 1980s), though it remains faithful to the core themes of the story, that is, it's exploration on the nature of evil. The three stories that collide in "Satanás" share the common theme of humanity's inherent evil, with the three characters experiencing different digress of evil, not only in the society they live in, but especially in themselves; not only the evil they suffer or witness, but most importantly, the one they inflict on others. In the story, Eliseo is fascinated by Robert Louis Stevenson's "Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde", and the novel's theme of duality, of the evil that's hidden inside every person is echoed in the film, not only in the obvious case of Eliseo, but also in the lives of Paola and Father Ernesto. The different degrees in which they succumb to this inherent evil is the focus of Baiz' screenplay.

As a director, Baiz shows a very competent and polished technique, enhanced a lot by the remarkable work of cinematography done by Mauricio Vidal, which captures a city of Bogotá on the verge of becoming a urban nightmare, reflects the inner conflicts of Baiz' characters. Social inequity is another important theme reflected in Baiz' work, as several times he juxtaposes the wealthy neighborhoods of Bogotá with its decayed ones, again as two different sides of the same coin. The differences between social classes play a major role in the three stories, and Baiz handles this without resorting to cheap melodrama, never betraying the dark tone of his story. Baiz' visual style is polished, but now without a certain degree of gritty realism, which comes up as appropriate given the subject matter of his story. His narrative, dealing with three separated but interconnected stories is unfortunately a bit uneven, as while some of the stories are remarkably developed, others seem forced and even disposable.

The acting is perhaps the film's strongest element, as despite the screenplay's problems, the cast makes a remarkable job in their performances. Leading the cast is Mexican actor Damián Alcázar, delivering one of his best works as the disturbed Eliseo (the analog of real life Campo Elías Delgado). Not only Alcázar shows an acceptable domain of the Colombian accent, he creates a complex character that feels so real in his development that it's frightening. Certainly, Eliseo is the kind of character that could had easily been transformed into an over the top caricature, but Alcázar keeps a restrained approach that makes him believable. Equally restrained is Blas Jaramillo's work as Father Ernesto, the tortured priest with a crisis of faith. Jaramillo delivers a pretty effective work which shines particularly in his interviews with the deranged Alicia. The beautiful Marcela Mar plays Paola, and while her character's story is easily the worst developed of the film, she manages to add a good amount of strength and dignity to her poorly written role, and that's quite an accomplishment.

As written above, "Satanás" is built as a three separated story lines that eventually interconnect at some point. The inherent difficulty of this device is that one or more stories may not be as well structured as the others, and that's precisely what happens in "Satanás". While the story of Eliseo is a powerful deconstruction of what could had been in the mind of a seriously disturbed man, the stories of Father Ernesto and Paola are considerably weaker, particularly Paola's which could had been removed entirely from the film without any problem. Father Ernesto's story presents a truly interesting premise, particularly as he begins to be obsessed with the actions of Alicia, the woman he could not help. However, Baiz fails to exploit the potential of the story and, without any sensation of risk or drama, the story ends up as merely anecdotal. Paola's tale on the other hand, seems to be done for the sake of shocking value, as while her descent into darkness is pretty graphic, thematically is pretty shallow and her connection to the other stories is purely coincidental. And not in a good way.

In his feature length debut, director Andrés Baiz shows great technique and a well defined visual style. Unfortunately, his work with the screenplay is a tad uneven, resulting in a film that while remarkable in many aspects, may feel ultimately unsatisfying. Nevertheless, "Satanás" is a debut that shows that Baiz has the potential for greater things. With great performances by its cast (specialy Alcázar's) and a fascinating premise, "Satanás" is a quite interesting thriller that, taking the Pozzetto Massacre as basis, makes a good exploration of a twisted mind. Perhaps the other stories in the film lack power, but the story of Eliseo is so devastating that it alone makes the film worth a watch.

7/10
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La última muerte (2011)

During the first decades of the 21st century, there has been a certain Renaissance of genre films in Mexican film industry, which since the 1980s seemed to had relegated them to the straight-to-video market. Granted, the occasional horror film managed to crept into a theater (Del Toro's "Cronos" for example), but for the most part, the New Mexican Cinema of the 90s consisted almost exclusively of social dramas or black comedies. Despite this, new Mexican genre films began a slow yet consistent return to the big screen in the 2000s, from horror ("KM 31: Kilómetro 31" in 2006) to fantasy ("Ángel caído" in 2010), showing that there is a new generation of filmmakers decided to try new things for Mexican cinema. Science fiction, a genre that produced some of the most bizarre Mexican films of the 60s, returned in 2009 with Francisco Laresgoiti's "2033", which was followed in 2010 by Angel Mario Huerta's "Seres: Genesis" and now David Ruiz' "La última muerte". Unfortunately, the results have not been the best so far.

"La última muerte" (literally "The last death") is set in the near future and begins in the woods, when a storm is about to begin. Dr. Jaime Alexanderson (Álvaro Guerrero) is packing stuff at his cabin, as he is in the middle of a divorce from his wife Sofia (Claudette Maillé). Going outside during the storm, Alexanderson finds a young man (Kuno Becker) lying unconscious near his cabin. Alexanderson decides to help and takes him home. When he awakes, the young man is unable to recall anything, not even his name, all he can remember is the name "Mónica". He is also in great physical pain, so Alexanderson decides to take him to a hospital where his friend D. Helmut (Carlos Kaspar) checks him. They discover two important facts about the mysterious man: he is chronically ill and he doesn't exist in the Global Persons Database. Alexanderson will discover that while the man supposedly doesn't exist, everyone is after him, and soon they'll find themselves running from the police as they try to figure out his identity.

Director David Ruiz himself is the mind behind the screenplay (written in collaboration with Alexis Fridman, Gaël Geneau, Fernando Rovzar and Patricio Saiz), and makes of "La última muerte" a futuristic thriller in which Alexanderson, driven by his desire to help, leaves his quiet life determined to find out who is actually the young man. Unlike what the poster may indicate, it is actually Dr. Alexanderson who drives the story while the unknown man is more like a plot element, a MacGuffin; and this is quite interesting as having a mature middle-aged man as the protagonist of the film isn't that common nowadays. This unlikely choice for a hero allows Ruiz to explore different themes, as Alexanderson's willingness to help the young man is rooted in a desire to finally do something right in his life, something to balance all his mistakes (such as his failing marriage). For Alexanderson, helping this man becomes ultimately a purpose, a way of finally achieving something. Unfortunately, Ruiz' script fails to exploit this element as its messy storyline is poorly developed, with several holes and inconsistencies.

However, while as scriptwriter Ruiz has many shortcomings, it is as a director where his talent truly shines, as the visual narrative of "La última muerte" is a pretty slick and attractive one. An experienced director of music videos, Ruiz proves himself a resourceful filmmaker with a clear and well defined style, as well as a keen eye for visuals. Ruiz' vision of the future is notoriously grounded in realism, the technological advances of his future are subtle and purely utilitarian, closer to the world of "Gattaca" than to the one of "I, Robot". Through the camera of cinematographer Juan José Saravia, director David Ruiz gives his film a naturalist style, avoiding as much as possible the need for complex special effects (though there are a couple of scenes of unnecessary CGI) and aiming for a believable (and frighteningly probable) idea of the future. Sadly, for all of his technical skill, Ruiz doesn't manage to save the film from it's messy screenplay, and the result is a well narrated bad story.

The acting is of an uneven quality, with some pretty good performances and others that are downright mediocre. Álvaro Guerrero, who plays Dr. Jaime Alexanderson is pretty good in his role for the most part, pretty convincing as a man of science trying to solve this big puzzle that he found in his cabin. He adds a certain amount of gravity to the role that it's fitting, and his turn from meek man of science to a major player in the conspiracy is quite natural and believable. As the unknown man, Kuno Becker has solid moments as this confused and gravely ill man who finds himself at the center of everything. Unfortunately, his character is pretty limited by the screenplay and the result is uneven. The rest of the cast is pretty mediocre, and particularly poor are the performances of Alexandra de la Mora and Carols Kaspar, who play Dr. Alexanderson's best friends. Perhaps a saving grace is Carlos Bracho, who appears in a small but quite important role as millionaire entrepreneur Wilkins.

With its stylish visual look and remarkable camera work, "La última muerte" is a very well done movie in purely technical terms. However, it suffers from major problems in its screenplay, problems that director David Ruiz is unable to avoid. For starters, it's hard to understand the motivations that set the plot running. Certainly, it is hinted that Dr. Alexanderson's marital problems steam from guilt over the past, but it's an element that soon gets forgotten and left unnecessarily ambiguous. Another thing is that the story spends its time building up a certain dynamic between characters, and on the last third their acts begin to contradict themselves. It's clear that there was an attempt to make a big twist in the plot, but it feels too forced and lacked verisimilitude. Another thing is the inclusion of characters that suddenly become irrelevant (Manolo Cardona's character for example, in which a great work of acting is wasted). Sadly, it becomes obvious that the screenplay could had been benefited of the same care as the visual look.

David Ruiz' "La última muerte", while showcasing excellent production values and a high technical quality (not to mention a promising talent in its director), suffers from having a thinly developed screenplay that leaves more questions than answers, and not in a good way. While the premise is certainly interesting, the lack of consistency and the holes in the plot hurt the resulting product, which ends up as an unsatisfying film that never really takes off. In an industry that had forgotten science fiction for decades, it's refreshing to see attempts like "La última muerte". David Ruiz' film showcases that there's the talent to make a great looking science fiction film. It only needed a better done story.

5/10
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Abismos de Pasión (1954)

With the release of his controversial yet highly influential feature length debut "L'Age d'Or" in 1930, Spanish director Luis Buñuel had already cemented his place amongst the surrealist movement of his time. Unfortunately, the film was banned due to the protests it generated, so Buñuel began to think about the next film. For his next project, he began to work with writer Pierre Unik in an adaptation of a famous novel: Emily Brontë's "Wuthering Heights". Sadly, the project never took off and instead, Buñuel and Unik began to work in the documentary "Las Hurdes". More than two decades later, Buñuel was now in Mexico working with producer Óscar Dancigers, who had helped him to return to filmmaking after years in exile. In 1954, Dancigers was preparing a comedy starring Irasema Dilián and Jorge Mistral, but the project was suddenly canceled. Still with Dilián and Mistral hired, Dancigers gave Buñuel the chance to make a film if he used those actors in the lead roles. It was in this conditions that Buñuel resurrected his "Wuthering Heights" project.

Titled "Abismos de Pasión" (literally "Depths of Passion"), the film begins in a rich but deteriorated estate located in the Mexican dessert. It is the house of Eduardo (Ernesto Alonso) and Catalina (Irasema Dilián), who live there with Eduardo's sister Isabel (Lilia Prado). Not entirely a happy marriage, the wild temperament of Catalina doesn't seem to get along with the quieter, calm personality of Eduardo, whose biggest passion is entomology. Still, there is relative peace at the household, until one day Alejandro (Jorge Mistral) returns. An orphan raised along Catalina and her brother Ricardo (Luis Aceves Castañeda), Alejandro had ran away tired of being constantly humiliated for his lack of status. Now a wealthy man, Alejandro has returned to buy Ricardo's estate and to see Catalina again. A deep passion exists between Alejandro and Catalina, a passion not unnoticed by Eduardo, who feels threatened by the presence of Alejandro. And this is only the beginning of Alejandro's vengeance.

Like most adaptations of Brontë's classic, "Abismos de Pasión" is focused only on the first half of the novel, though the condensation is far more extreme: it's dedicated only to the events after Alejandro/Heathcliff's return to the estate. Adapted by Buñuel himself, Arduino Maiuri and Julio Alejandro (in his first collaboration with Buñuel), "Abismos de Pasión" is "Wuthering Heights" stripped to its bare bones, to the core of its passion. The past is only mentioned, the future, merely hinted at, what truly matters in "Abismos de Pasión" is the present, in which Alejandro is back and has taken by storm the household of Eduardo/Edgar and Catalina/Catherine. While it could be argued that the script represents only a fraction of the novel, in fact what the writers have achieved is a perfect cinematic summarization of the core themes of "Wuthering Heights". This allows a pretty good development of the characters, not only of the two leads, but also of the microcosm that inhabits the estates.

Perhaps the most striking aspect of Buñuel's vision of "Wuthering Heights" is how little it's actually changed from Brontë's novel, and still, it's undoubtedly a Buñuel film. There's truly a perfect marriage between Buñel's idiosyncrasies and his profound respect for the source (explicitly stated in a disclaimer at the beginning). The tone Buñuel conveys is one of depressive decadence, reflected in the stark atmosphere of the Mexican desert. As if it was a limbo, the characters live in the forgotten estate just existing, that is until Alejandro arrives, triggering the passions of both Catalina and Isabel. Without taking sides, Buñuel presents his characters without any sympathy or or apparent romanticism, showing them as the cruel monsters that they are. This is another aspect in which his "Wuthering Heights" rings true: it's a gathering of wicked people, and nobody, neither rich nor poor is free of sin. As in "L'Age d'Or", the theme here is the destructive force that results from repressed passion.

Unfortunately, it's in the cast's performance where "Abismos de Pasión" has its fatal flaw, more specifically, in the lead cast. As written above, Buñuel had no word in the casting as it was imposed to him, and in fact, perhaps with a little more of time dedicated to work it out the result may had been improved. Unfortunately, one element that Buñuel rarely enjoyed in his career was time, and it shows. As the capricious Catalina, Irasema DIlián rings true in intention and presence, and she is indeed a beauty that lights up the darkness of the desert. Unfortunately, the Polish actress is simply unable to hide her heavy accent and ends up lacking verisimilitude as sister of Ricardo and childhood friend of Alejandro (both speaking without accent). As the Heathcliff character, Alejandro, actor Jorge Mistral has some good moments, though he lacks the presence required to carry such a role, and unfortunately, he ends up greatly overshadowed by the supporting cast, who truly rise up to the challenge.

Perhaps not surprisingly, the supporting cast is made up of Buñuel's regulars (or soon to be regulars): the impossibly beautiful Lilia Prado (of "Subida al Cielo") plays Isabel, Ernesto Alonso (of "Ensayo de un crímen") is Eduardo, and Luis Aceves Castañeda (also of "Subida al Cielo") is Ricardo. The three of them are remarkable in their turn, but most particularly Alonso, whom makes a terrific work at making his Eduardo/Edgar a frail effete, in love with Catalina, but unable to match Alejandro's passion. This unevenness in the cast is the Achilles' heel of "Abismos de Pasión", as the difference between the lead and the supporting cast is so abysmal that's impossible not to notice it. It's tragic, as it spoils the experience of what could had been one of Buñuel's most symbolic and visually arresting films. While he keeps faithful to Brontë's text, visually the movie is full of Bulñuel's touches, from Eduardo's bug collection to Alejandro's servant reciting the darkest passages from the Bible, not to mention the mysterious behavior of Ricardo's mute son Jorge (the Hareton equivalent).

Despite its flaws, Luis Buñuel achieves in "Abismos de Pasión" the movie that perhaps gets closer to Brontë's spirit in terms of tone and atmosphere. In "Abismos de Pasión" Buñuel seems to understand that Brontë's novel is not Austen, it's raw, harsh, and cruel. There's wild passionate violence in its words, and Buñuel manages to translate it to images in a more accurate way that Wyler did in his polished 1939 version. It's for these reasons that it's so tragic that the cast involved has failed in their performance. A weak couple of lead actors and a heavy Polish accent undermine the foundations of what could had been a masterpiece, and leave it as only as a merely good film. Fortunately, a merely good film from Buñuel is still far more enjoyable than a merely good film from anybody else.

7/10
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Ángel caído (2010)

Through the history of Mexican cinema, with its penchant for stylish melodrama and musical comedies, full fledged ventures into the fantasy genre have been scarce, almost a rarity. Granted, the Mexican film industry has produced some of the best horror films in the world, and the Mexican culture has a long standing literary tradition of magical realism that has found its way into Mexican cinema in one way or another; however, to find more traditional subgenres of fantasy is particularly rare. Aside from the surreal work of Jodorowsky and Rafael Corkidi, there have been very few examples of purely fantasy films ("Zurdo" and "Historias del Desencanto" come to mind). It is because of this scarcity that the effort of newcomer director Arturo Anaya is particularly admirable, as he debuts with an ambitious fantasy film titled "Ángel caído", which is based on the first of a series of fantasy novels he wrote. Now, the effort and Anaya's determinations are without a doubt admirable, unfortunately, the end result well, not so much.

The story of "Ángel caído" (literally "Fallen Angel") begins in Italy, when a baby is taken to an orphanage by the police. Years later, the baby is now a young kid named Liutprando (Emiliano Zurita) or Liut for short. One night, a demon arrives to the orphanage searching for Liut, but the kid is miraculously saved by his Guardian Angel and taken to an isolated monastery in Greece. At the monastery, Liut is welcomed by brother Angus (José Alonso), a wise monk who explains Liut his true origin: he is a Sephyro, a half-human half-angel with supernatural powers. Liut is shocked at the revelation, but there's more, he also has inherited a mission from his father: to find the Sword of Fire, the legendary Sword that Liut's father used as Guard of the Garden of Eden. With this in mind, Angus begins to train Liut, who becomes a young man in the process (Sebastián Zurita). A clue is hidden at the University of San Rafaello, so Liut enrolls to find it. However, Luzbel the fallen angel (Carlos Cacho) is waiting for him.

As written above, "Ángel caído" is a film written by director Arturo Anaya, adapted from his own novel “Ángel Caído Sephyro, el canto segundo”, though given the long time of production the film had, it's difficult to say what happened first, either the film or the novel. The story can be divided in two parts, the first one chronicling Liut's childhood and his training at the monastery, and the second and main section of the film is dedicated to his time at the University and his battle against Luzbel's minions. While the setting is the real world, "Ángel caído"'s secret world of demons and angels grounds the story in the field of the fantasy epic film. At its core, Arturo Anaya follows closely the classic monomyth pattern to unfold his story, which is largely centred around Liut's heroic journey. An element of fish out of the water is added in the secodn half, as Liut's upbringing at the Greek monastery is put in contrast to the modern world at the University of San Rafaello, embodied in his dorm room neighbor Paul.

Despite working with an extremely low budget, director Arturo Anaya opts for a heavy use of special effects in his film, and surprisingly, many of them actually look fine. However, at times it feels excessive, not only in the sense that its low production values become notorious, but also as the amount of digital enhancement tends to darken too much the work of cinematographer Juan Castillero. "Ángel caído" is a case of digital cinematography being damaged in postproduction. While undoubtedly a bold effort, "Ángel caído" showcases the limitations of the unexperienced Anaya, not only in purely budgetary terms, but as a director. The story's pacing is quite uneven (the work of editing is pretty poor), often reaching extremely slow points only to follow it with sequences that seem rushed. Anaya's tacky visual narrative, which seems greatly influenced by television, doesn't really capture the epic feeling that his story pretends to have, and feels more apt for a TV series.

The cast is one of the film's weakest elements, though two cast members truly shine in their roles. Unfortunately, they aren't the protagonists, as Sebastián Zurita and Laisha Wilkins, Liut and Persefone respectively, aren't really that effective. Wilkins, though owner of a natural beauty, fails to be convincing as she doesn't seem to be fully into the project. On the contrary, Zurita shows passion and commitmet to his heroic role, but his skills aren't up to the challenge and ends up wooden and emotionless most of the time. Now, the two actors who truly give their best are José Alonso and the young Luis Caballero. As the monk Angus, Alonso is pitch perfect as the wise old man of this journey, and he steals a couple of scenes with his sharp comedic timing. Playing Paul, Caballero excels in his performance as Liut's spoiled rich friend, and truly gives life to the second part of the film with a vibrant performance full of energy. The rest of the cast is pretty average, and while Humberto Zurita shows his skills, he is reduced to a boring and clichéd role.

In fact, boring and clichéd are adjectives that unfortunately, extend to many other aspects of the film, as "Ángel caído", as laudable as it is as a low budget epic fantasy, it's marred by problems bigger than its low budget. In fact, while low budget could serve as an excuse for its technical problems, the real failure in "Ángel caído" is in a more basic, yet neccessary element: its story. Anaya's story is not only derivative and unoriginal (to be fair, most fantasy epics sadly have this same problem in one degree or another), it's also pretty thin in its development and lacks engaging main characters. While Anaya has done a good job in creating his mythology (borrowing from Christian Catholic elements), the human conflict is missed in his drama, and the virtuous Liut ends up being an uninteresting one-dimensional character. A shame, as the world and premise of "Ángel caído" certainly sound with the potential to make a remarkable work in the fantasy genre.

In the end, while the film does have certain flaws in its visual look, the special effects are pretty good looking for a film of its budget. In this aspect Arturo Anaya's team truly excelled, but unfortunately, the excuse of low budget can't save the film from it's fatal flaw, a problem that hamrs both big Hollywood films and indie features: it's poor excuse for a story. Unoriginal, unengagin, derivative and lifeless, "Ángel caído" is guilty of the worst sin a movie (regardless of budget) can commit: to be boring. As a bold venture into a genre largely forgotten by the Mexican industry, Anaya's "Ángel caído" is enormously admirable. As an epic fantasy film, it's a tragic failure. Hopefully Anaya will do better next time, because the very few good things in "Ángel caído" are truly good.

3/10
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La Ilusión viaja en Tranvía (1954)

Having left his native Spain when Francisco Franco became dictator, director Luis Buñuel found himself unable to continue the promising career he had started in France. Luckily for him, he met producer Óscar Dancigers, who offered him to make a film in Mexico. Working for hire within the Mexican film industry, the surreal artist learned to make movies with commercial purposes with low budgets and tight schedules. Nevertheless, this didn't mean that the artistry of Buñuel's craftsmanship was lost in those movies done on commission. 1953's "La Ilusión viaja en tranvía" is probably one of the best examples of this, as it was originated with a purely commercial purpose: Servicio de Transportes Eléctricos, Mexico City's main Tramway company had suffered a lot of bad press due to the tragic collision of two trams (with many casualties) so, the management wanted a comedy film about tramways for public relations. Clasa Films, one of Mexico's biggest studios, took the job and hired Luis Buñuel to direct the film.

"La Ilusión viaja en Tranvía" (known in English as "Illusion Travels by Streetcar") is the story of two friends, Juan Godinez (Carlos Navarro) and Tobías Hernández (Fernando Soto "Mantequilla"), better known as Caireles and Tarrajas respectively. Caireles is a mechanic of streetcars, while Tarrajas is a driver, both live in a poor neighborhood in Mexico city. One day, near Christmas, they are informed that their Streetcar, no 133, will be decommissioned, which upsets both friends. That night, they go to a Christmas party and get drunk, and the two friends decide to take Streetcar 133 for a last night ride. Caireles and Tarrajas ride the streetcar through the city and begin to take passengers without charge, but as the next day begins and their drunkenness fades, the two friends realize that they'll get in trouble if they don't take the streetcar back. Weird situations take place as Caireles and Tarrajas try to take the streetcar back, and in the process, Caireles will fix his problems with his girlfriend, the beautiful Lupita (Lilia Prado).

As written above, the story of "La Ilusión viaja en Tranvía" was provided by Clasa Films, specifically by producer Mauricio de la Serna, though it was adapted to the screen by two of Buñuel's main collaborators: Luis Alcoriza and Juan de la Cabada (along José Revueltas and Mauricio de la Serna himself). The result is a light comedy clearly designed to entertain, but that also has certain touches of irony and social commentary. At its most basic, it's a simple adventure in which the two antiheroes, Caireles and Tarrajas find bizarre and funny situations in their trip across the city. Practically a road movie but enclosed within the city tramway lines, the film is of a somewhat episodic nature, but what elevates it from the rest is the great development its characters has. In "La Ilusión viaja en Tranvía", the journey is besides the point, what truly matters are the relationships between the characters: Caireles and Tarrajas' friendship, their enmity with the company and old worker Papá Pinillos, and of course, the romance between Cairles and Lupita.

While "La Ilusión viaja en Tranvía" was a work done for hire, the film is staggeringly similar to Buñuel's own "Subida al Cielo", and in fact it feels like a more polished and accessible version of that previous film. Like in most of his Mexican films, the commercial constrains of the project brings out the best of Buñuel's craftsmanship, and "La Ilusión viaja en Tranvía" showcases the master at the top of his game. However, the fact that this film is purely a comedy certainly allowed him to display his taste for irony and his sharp humor. Despite clearly not being his most personal work, there are several touches of his typical obsessions, particularly his jabs at the Church (most prominently the pastorela scene) and the sexualization of Lilia Prado's legs (incidentally, Prado also appeared in the aforementioned "Subida al Cielo"). While a comedy prone to absurd, the film's atmosphere is one of touching realism, with cinematographer Raúl Martínes Solares making a truthful portrait of life of the working class in Mexico City of the time.

As written above, the characters are the heart of the film, and the cast makes the most of this in their performances. Leading the cast as Caireles, Carlos Navarro is pretty good as the down on his luck mechanic who seems apparently unmotivated to make anything with his life. Navarro manages to make a charming rogue of a role that could had been easily an unlikeable character. However, the highlight of the film is comedian Fernando Soto "Mantequilla", who makes the most of his role as Tarrajas. With great charm and skill, Soto steals every scene he is in, showing a vibrant energy and dignity that makes his role more than a mere bumbling sidekick. In fact, there's a certain subtlety that refrains him from being an overacted archetype. And subtlety seems to be the key, as Lilia Prado's performance as Lupita is also subtle in her sensuality. If in "Subida al Cielo" she was a lustful temptress that represented wild desire, in this movie she is the voice of reason that unwillingly ends up in the middle of Caireles and Tarrajas' wild ride.

Agustín Isunza completes the main cast as Papá Pinillos, a retired streetcar worker who is decided to stop streetcar 133 out of loyalty to a company that has forgotten him. In fact, the four characters represent different sides of a sector of Mexican society that seems, like streetcar 133, on the verge of oblivion as the city progresses. The four are working class antiheroes, perhaps they are disenchanted, ignorant, angsty or old, but still, they are the people. It is in this aspect where the magic of "La Ilusión viaja en Tranvía" is, as Buñuel conveys the harsh aesthetic of "Los Olvidados" with the most heartfelt tone of comedy. It's still an exploration of the working class and their tragedies, but trading the cruel pessimism for a certain dose of tenderness that while odd in a Buñuel film, still feels strangely honest in its delivery. Interestingly, for a film made with the idea of give good name to the Tramway company, it does make the company a faceless villain, as Buñuel sides unabashedly with the working class.

Often considered a minor film in Buñuel's canon, "La Ilusión viaja en Tranvía" is one of the best movies he did during his Mexican period. While it certainly lacks the familiar touch of surrealism that his better known French films have, there are elements in the film that makes it particularly valuable. For starters, the time capsule quality the movie has, as it brings back a Mexico City captured in time like few movies of its period does. Also, there's Fernando Soto's brilliant comedic performance, but most importantly, the most remarkable asset of the film is big heart it has, as "La Ilusión viaja en Tranvía" is a film in which Buñuel allows himself to be tender. It could be argued that this is because of the commercial intention of the movie, but whatever had been the cause, "La Ilusión viaja en Tranvía" is a film that oozes magic, nostalgia, and yes, illusion.

8/10
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Él (1953)

Celebrated as one of the most original and influential oeuvres in the history of cinema, the filmography of Spaniard filmmaker Luis Buñuel is a work rich in symbolism and artistry. Certainly, most of the praise focuses on the works Buñuel did in his late career, during his "French periods", dismissing the films done during his Mexican tenure. Nevertheless, while his career in Mexico was marred by low budgets, rushed deadlines and a big necessity for making commercial hits, it was also the period in which the master of surrealism cut his teeth, perfected his style and developed his very particular idiosyncrasies. In short, the period in which Buñuel grew from the young talent of "Un Chien Andalou" to the Surreal artist of "Le Fantôme de la liberté". Within the constrains of the Mexican film industry, the Spaniard master found the way to produce several of the most remarkable Mexican films ever done, and one of his most personal films was a dark melodrama titled simply "Él".

In "Él" (literally "He", but better known in English as "This Atrange Passion"), Arturo de Córdova plays Francisco Galván, a wealthy and respected man who meets an attractive young woman Gloria (Delia Garcés) at Church. Gloria, while somewhat attracted to Francisco, informs him that they can't speak to each other again. Francisco decides to follow her, but then he discovers the reason behind her words: she has a boyfriend, Raúl Conde (Luis Beristáin). Luckily for Francisco, Raúl is an old friend of his, so it doesn't take him much to orchestrate a way to woo Gloria away from Raúl. Gloria falls in love with Francisco, and the two get married quickly, nevertheless, Gloria's married life isn't the happiness she was expecting, as she begins to discover slowly that behind the exterior image of moral rectitude and impeccable behavior, is hidden a dominant and extremely jealous man. Francisco's jealousy begins to reach paranoid levels, and Gloria decides to escape from her situation.

Based on the autobiographical novel of the same title by Mercedes Pinto (which chronicled her first husband's mental problems) and adapted by Buñuel himself and Luis Alcoriza (his regular collaborator), "Él" is a sharp study on paranoia and mental degeneration, superbly crafted with a healthy dose of the writers' typical witty black humour. Nevertheless, "Él" is not only a tale about madness, as its multilayered screenplay conveys most of Buñuel's familiar thematic obsessions. Francisco is a wealthy churchgoer who has made for himself a public image of respectability and dignity. Nevertheless, this image is extremely fragile, as the slightest familiarity that Gloria could have with another man triggers in Francisco a violent jealous rage. The screenplay hints that Francisco's jealousy is the result of his repressed sexuality, having dedicated most of his free time to the Church (another of Buñuel's favourite targets). But still, Francisco is far from a simple insanely jealous character, being in fact, a pretty complex and human character.

The film also explores a pretty interesting visual narrative structure, being divided in three sections that allow to dissect the marriage of Francisco and Gloria. The first part details Francisco's courtship and culminates in their marriage, then the film flash-forwards several years into the future and finds a distressed Gloria meeting Raúl again, to whom she confesses her problems in a long flashback that makes the second part of the film. The final part returns to the present (and to Francisco) and details how advanced his madness is and the events that take place once he has found that Gloria has met Raúl again. Skillfully, the master unfolds his tale with a very smooth pace, and treats his subject matter not as a drama, but as a tale of suspense. "Él" is perhaps as close as Buñuel ever got to making a proper horror film. Visually, the movie is a joy to watch, thanks to the remarkable work of cinematography by the legendary Gabriel Figueroa, who captures the oppressive atmosphere of Francisco's household with striking angles and an expressionist touch.

Mexican actor Arturo de Córdova, a famous star of the Golden Age of Mexican cinema, delivers in "Él" one of the best performances in his career, leading the cast as Francisco Galván, the paranoid husband of Gloria. A popular leading actor of film noirs and complex melodrama, De Córdova was no stranger to playing charming gentlemen with tortured minds, having honed his craft in Mexican classics such as "Crepúsculo", "El Hombre sin Rostro" and "En la palma de tu mano". Nevertheless, it's in Buñuel's "Él" where he achieves perfection, delivering a performance that it's both captivating and repulsive, displaying a range that goes from the highest subtlety to the most violent outbursts. As Gloria, Delia Garcés is equally as impressive, playing the loving wife who has to suffer the irrationality of the man she thought was perfect. In Gloria's meetings with Raúl, Garcés manages to portray the humility and dignity of a woman who feels betrayed by herself and the world.

Perhaps the weakest link is precisely Luis Beristáin as Raúl, whom gets easily caught between the two towering performances of the lead actors. Nevertheless, this isn't really a big deal, given that the story revolves completely around Francisco and Gloria. Wickedly disturbing, but without losing entirely its black humour, "Él" is a powerful deconstruction of the machismo of society, with Francisco having first idealized his future wife Gloria, only to later accuse her mercilessly and irrationally of being an unfaithful wife when they are finally married. For Buñuel, this has its roots in the Church as an institution, as the religious Francisco tries to reconcile his preconceived ideas of woman as a saint and as a sinner, with no middle-ground in between. His unrealistic ideal of perfection gets tarnished when he lets his sexual desire to take over, and thus he proceeds to control by force everything he can, particularly when he feels weak or defeated.

One of the most personal films Buñuel ever did (in fact, he claimed it was the film where he had put the most of himself), "Él" is a masterful depiction of jealousy and paranoia, as well as a testament to the talents of both De Córdova and Garcés. Mixing perfectly comedy, drama and suspense, Buñuel crafts in "Él" a vivid portrayal of mental degeneration. Unnerving, thrilling, and yet delightfully funny, "Él" is a work that manages to work on multiple levels. Knowing that Alfred Hitchcock was a fan of Buñuel, one wonders if the revered British filmmaker got some inspiration from the film while developing his own masterpiece, "Vertigo". Like "Los Olvidados", "Él" is one of Buñuel's Mexican films that rightfully deserves more recognition as a masterpiece of cinema.

9/10
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El Bruto (1953)

Forced to leave Spain when Francisco Franco became a dictator, celebrated filmmaker Luis Buñuel found in Mexico a home and a new opportunity to make movies again. Nevertheless, the movies he had to do in the Mexican industry were far from the experimental surrealism of his initial output, as the Spaniard master had to learn how to make commercial films. Nevertheless, in 1950 the master would return to form with "Los Olvidados" a masterpiece of Mexican cinema that proved that the young maker of "Un Chien Andalou" was still alive and kicking. Sergio Kogan, one of the producers of "Los Olvidados", hired Buñuel to make a film for his wife Rosita Quintana, and the result was "Susana", which began a partnership between them which would also produce two more films: the urban melodramas "Una Mujer sin Amor" and "El Bruto". Starring Pedro Armendáriz and Katy Jurado, "El Bruto" is a film that, while apparently average at first, it actually has a lot of Buñuel's political ideologies hidden beneath its ordinary construction.

"El Bruto" (literally "The Brute") begins with a conflict between the poor tenants of a building and their landlord, Don Andrés Cabrera (Andrés Soler). DOn Andrés wants to sell the land, but his tenants don't want to be evicted. Their leader, Carmelo (Roberto Meyer), encourages his neighbors to fight for their rights. Don Andrés' wife Paloma (Katy Jurado) advices him to simply leave them leaderless. To this effect, Don Andrés calls Pedro (Pedro Armendáriz), a strong worker at Don Andrés' slaughterhouse who is nicknamed "Bruto". Tall and strong, but a tad dimwitted, Pedro is a loyal worker for Don Andrés, whom he considers his mentor, so he accepts the mission that his boss has given him: to scare Carmelo away. Pedro faces Carmelo and beats him, but the frail and sick Carmelo dies from his injury. Don Andrés hides Pedro in his home, where he'll face the seductive Paloma, who becomes quite interested in him. To further complicate things, Pedro will fall in love with Meche (Rosa Arenas), not knowing she's the daughter of the man he killed.

Written by Buñuel himself and his regular collaborator Luis Alcoriza, "El Bruto" is by all accounts, a fairly typical urban melodrama of passion and betrayal. Nevertheless, it's actually a multi-layered story that hides several of Buñuel's deeper and most complex idiosyncrasies. Not only "El Bruto" lets loose Buñuel's most Marxist views by having the working class Pedro serving as a pawn of the bourgeoisie, it explores the conflict of Pedro as a pawn of Paloma's desire and specially, of Pedro as a pawn of his own biggest flaws: lust and ignorance. Pedro could be a working class hero, but his sexual desire takes him first to live with a "family of leeches" (his girlfriend's family), to become Paloma's boy toy, which will result in greater problems for him when he discovers love with Meche. The love triangle between Pedro, Andrés and Paloma has certain Oedipal echoes, as its implied that Andres' tutorship of Pedro has had more to do with hidden familiar relationship rather than a purely altruist impulse.

Buñuel's work as a director is remarkable, and while the low budget is notorious, he makes the most of what he's got and carefully builds up the story, unfolding each element of the story skillfully, showing his domain of the visual narrative. The strength of "El Bruto" is in its storyline, and Buñuel gives enough space to develop the characters and enhance the story's impact. In terms of style, "El Bruto" is closer in tone and atmosphere to his 1950 masterpiece "Los Olvidados", as there's an amount of harsh realism in his depiction of life in the slums that his more surrealist pieces lack. This is not to say that the master's touches of surrealism are entirely absent, but in "El Bruto", they are more carefully concealed, kept dormant until the climatic ending, which has a pretty "Buñuelian" moment of surrealism in its epilogue. Cinematographer Agustín Jiménez offers a polished and stylish work that gives the film a noir visual look that's perfectly fitting, as in fact, "El Bruto" works as a film noir of the slums.

The cast is another of "El Bruto"'s greatest strengths, as it includes several of the best Mexican actors of all time. Leading the cast as Pedro is the legendary Pedro Armendáriz, who delivers a remarkable performance as the strong but not very brilliant hero of the film. A famous lead actor, Armendáriz plays a complex figure in "El Bruto", a pawn of forces bigger than himself, belittled by his difficulty to fully understanding his world. Pedro is not an idiot, but his naiveté and ignorance makes him someone easily manipulable. Yet as good as Armendáriz is, it is Katy Jurado whom as Paloma delivers the best performance in the film. Jurado's sensuous and voluptuous figure, coupled with her commanding screen presence makes her an ideal femme fatal, and not only shows her power manipulating Pedro, but also her older husband, Don Andrés. Played by Andrés Soler, Don Andrés is an equally complex character, on one side a ruthless businessman who cares little for the working class, yet he is also shown as a loving son and loyal friend.

This complex duality is the other running theme in "El Bruto", where nothing is really black and white. Each character in the film seems to have two sides, as if Buñuel was stating that despite the appearances, no villain is entirely bad, and no hero is entirely good. Meche, the young daughter of Carmelo, is perhaps the only character whose entirely "pure", as if she represented the grace that Pedro requires to stop being Bruto and become a full man. Once again, duality is present in Pedro as Bruto, because Pedro, dimwitted as he is, knows that Bruto is not a nice name. He is fully aware of his limitations, and begins to resent being seen as nothing more than a brute. As much as he desires Paloma's sexual favors, deep down he knows he is not seen as Pedro, but as Bruto, a thing made to be used. And this is Buñuel's at his most Marxist, as he presents the working class as a property of the bourgeoisie, represented by Don Andrés (heir of an "old money" family) and Paloma (a social climber). His awakening and quest for redemption become the core of this melodrama.

Often dismissed as being one of Buñuel's most ordinary and commercial efforts, "El Bruto" is actually one of the best movies from his Mexican output. While the film has notoriously low production values, there's a lot to enjoy in "El Bruto", as it's one of the films that most represent Buñuel's political leanings. Certainly, the film lacks the visual impact of "Los Olvidados", the charming irony of "Él" and the sharp criticism of "El Ángel Exterminador", but still, this minor gem about an oppressed man looking for his place is an impeccably done urban melodrama. In fact, this severely underrated film just proves that the world of director Luis Buñuel is stretched beyond his better known works in surrealism.

8/10
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