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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Yira, yira (1930)

Certainly, one of the greatest figures of Argentina is without a doubt singer, songwriter and actor Carlos Gardel. The most prominent figure in the history of Tango revolutionized the culture of his time that despite having died tragically at the height of his career (in a plane crash), his name is the one most often associated with the culture and music of Argentina. Born in 1890, Gardel arrived to Buenos Aires at a very young age, and grew up in the Abasto neighborhood. Like many singers of his time, Gardel began his career working at bars, but soon his singing talent and charming look took him to the studio to make recordings in 1917. That very same year cinema found Gardel, and his talent made its way into the film "Flor de Durazno". Naturally, Gardel's career on cinema didn't make much progress in the silent era, so he focused on singing. However, by 1930 sound in film was now a reality, and so Gardel and cinema met again, in an early series of musical short films directed by sound pioneer Eduardo Morera.

"Yira, yira" (often known in English as "Go round... and round...") is one of those musical shorts, which basically consisted in an introduction to the song and then the execution of the song by Gardel himself. In the case of "Yira, yira", the introduction is done by Gardel and the song composer, the legendary Enrique Santos Discépolo (at the time a young 29 years old man), with Gardel asking Enrique Santos about the meaning of the song. Enrique explains Carlos that the song is about despair, hopelessness and loneliness; to which Carlos answers surprised that such is the feeling he had received from the song. Enrique praises Gardel's singing, though Carlos wonders with a little naiveté if the song's main character is a good man despite the brooding tone. Enrique makes a joke about it, which Carlos doesn't seem to catch at first, though he later does and both men laugh. The film then cuts to Gardel's interpretation of Santos Discépolo's "Yira, yira", with a musical group.

As in most of Morera's shorts, the centerpiece of the film is Gardel's singing "Yira, yira", however, the introductions to the songs, while probably scripted by Morera or Gardel, give a glimpse of the magnetic personality that the famous singer had. In the case of "Yira, yira", the introduction is twice interesting as it showcases Enrique Santos Discépolo, the composer of this popular tango. Whether the dialogs recited were scripted or are in fact improvised is sadly not known, though two things can be noted in the film: the great camaraderie and respect between both artists, and the natural charm and ease in front of the camera that Gardel displays. It's clear that both Morera and Gardel understood very well the possibilities of the film, and thus the image of the singer is carefully detailed in the brief introduction. Gardel is shown as a humble singer, respectful of the composer, and owner of a child-like curiosity. The fact that Morera makes the joke be on Gardel is part of this: Gardel owns the spotlight, but he shares it willingly with his friends. With his people.

Now, the interpretation Gardel makes of "Yira, yira" is one of his best, capturing in his performance the very same feeling of despair and loneliness that Enrique Santos Disépolo was explaining in the introduction. The touch of irony that the song has is not lost, though perhaps a bit diminished by Gardel's strongly melancholic performance, which adds a bit of optimism to the song. Tango singing (specially of Gardel's time) often requires a bit of dramatic emphasis on the voice, not only because of its common themes of loneliness and lost love, but also because of its very rhythm. In this aspect, Gardel delivers a masterful performance, and "Yira, yira" proves that Morera wasn't wrong when he decided that no matter what may had happened in the failed experience of "Flor de Durazon", Carlos Gardel was truly worthy material for cinema. In the introduction, Carlos Gardel wonders if the character is a good man. In his performance, it's clear that when Gardel sings it, the brooding main character is a good man indeed.

As expected from an early experiment in sound film, Morera's set up is fairly basic, with cinematographer Antonio Merayo framing both scenes (introduction and performance) in a simple yet effective manner. Certainly, Merayo's work is much more interesting when Gardel is singing, though that's perhaps the result of a directorial decision rather than a flaw on Merayo's side. "Yira, yira", along nine other of Morera's short films were later compiled in 1931 to form a longer movie called "Diez canciones de Gardel" or "Encuadre de canciones" (literally "Ten songs by Gardel" or "Assortment of songs"); however, Morera's shorts work much better on their own, as they were intended to be. In this aspect, Morera's Gardel shorts can be seen as precursors of modern music videos. Given the quality of Gardel's performance, and the fact that Morera's succeeded in what he was set to achieve (to prove Gardel could be a major film star), it can be said that his humble experimental short films more than fulfilled its goal.

10/10
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Gran Casino (Tampico) (1947)

The political climate in continental Europe during the 30s was quite convoluted and the rise of Nazism in Germany and the outbreak of the Spanish Civil War meant the exile for many of its inhabitants. Amongst them was Spaniard filmmaker Luis Buñuel, who moved to the U.S. and found a job in the dubbing department of Warner Brothers. Blacklisted for his communist ties and unsatisfied with his job, Buñuel accepted an invitation by old friend Denise Tual, to direct a film for her husband, producer Roland Tual, in Mexico. Thanks to Tual, Buñuel met French producer Oscar Dancigers, another refugee who had escaped from World War II in 1939. Dancigers had established in Mexico an independent film production company that found some success during World War II. Tual's project was canceled but Dancigers wanted to work with Buñuel, so he offered him a job directing a musical film with two of Mexico's most popular stars: Mexican singer Jorge Negrete and Argentinian singer Libertad Lamarque. "Gran Casino" was the film that inaugurated Buñuel's Mexican period.

Also known as "Tampico" (the place the film is set), the movie is set in the early years of the twentieth century and tells the story of friends Gerardo (Jorge Negrete) and Demetrio (Julio Villarreal), two prison cell-mates who after escaping from prison, find job in an oil company owned by Argentinian José Enrique Irigoyen (Francisco Jambrina). Irigoyen is an idealistic entrepreneur, but his plans go against those of Heriberto (Agustín Isunza), local gangster and owner of the Grand Casino of the title. Heriberto kidnaps and murders Irigoyen, but the two friends decide to not let Irigoyen down and stand aside his benefactor's ideas, keeping things going at the oil company. Things get more complicated when Irigoyen's sister Mercedes (Libertad Lamarque) arrives and suspects that Gerardo and Demetrio are involved in her brother's disappearance. Her investigation takes her to get a job at the Grand Casino while Demetrio disappears as well. It'll be up to Gerardo to discover the truth and win Mercedes' heart. And sing a variety of tunes while he's at it, or course.

Taking Michel Weber's novel "El Rugido del Paraíso" ("The Roar of Paradise") as basis, the screenplay was written by Mauricio Magdaleno, who had already penned several quite popular Mexican films. By all accounts, "Gran Casino" is pretty much a basic musical melodrama in the style that had been popular in Mexico since 1936's classic "Allá en el Rancho Grande": underdog hero faces the rich and corrupt villain in a rural setting, confusion arises between lovers and there's lots of singing. True, this formula was nothing new, and by 1947, it was already starting to die in front of the noir-inspired urban melodramas of the 50s; however, there is a certain theme in Magdaleno's screenplay that gives this old story some sparks of interest: the political angle of the oil topic, which carries a subtle anti-capitalism theme. Mexico nationalized oil in 1936, and "Gran Casino" initially seems to follow the official idea that private oil companies were evil. Nevertheless, the movie's final answer is to literally blow away the problem about oil.

Basically working for hire with a strictly commercial goal, a formulaic storyline and two popular stars to work with, director Luis Buñuel crafts his film effortlessly and remains for the most part faithful to the typical structure of the musical melodrama. However, even amidst the constrains of the movie's purely commercial intentions, the surrealist artist found places to express his very own idiosyncrasies. The most famous and noticeable of these little touches is probably the surreal way the Trío Calaveras appears out of nowhere to serve as backup chorus for Jorge Negrete's character in every song (surprising even him). Another would be the way Buñuel toys with the political angle of the story. Taking thinly veiled jabs at capitalism and even Nazism; Buñuel seems to make oil and politics ultimately unimportant for our very human characters, in an apparent preference for anarchism. There is also a complete rejection to sentimentalism, so passionate kisses are avoided, resulting in a film that plays like a melodrama, but at the same time is also the antithesis of melodrama.

As written above, "Gran Casino" was conceived specially to feature the talents of stars Jorge Negrete and Libertad Lamarque. Both respected singers and actors, their performances in the film result effective and appropriate. Nothing spectacular, but both get the job done without problem. As Buñuel himself stated later, the idea was to get them to sing and sing a lot, so their talents are exploited to full effect in several musical numbers that showcase their quality. Unfortunately, they never sing a duet in the film (strange, being this a musical with romance), although this may be part of Buñuel's choice to avoid sentimentalism. The rest of the cast is for the most part good, with Meche Barba standing out as the sultry femme fatal of the Casino. She truly gives her role a strong presence that certainly, leaves a lasting impression (considering how limited her character is, that's quite an accomplishment). Also worth of notice is the comic timing of Fernande Albany as the perpetually drunk French refugee Nanette.

Unfortunately, despite having all the ingredients of classic Mexican musical melodramas, Buñuel's "Gran Casino" fails to convince and ends up an unsatisfying experience. And the reason is ultimately that yes, it has everything it should have (beautiful songs, great singing, good performances, Jack Draper's ace cinematography, bits of suspense, action and comedy... well, everything), but it never goes beyond its own unoriginal commonness. True, Buñuel's touches are scattered through the film, but only as brief occurrences, as if cowardice or boredom (probably the latter) prevented him of going any further with it, leaving the feeling of an effective yet ultimately uninspired piece of work. By 1947, musical melodramas in rural settings (the "Comedia Ranchera") were old news, and Mexican audiences' preference was verging towards urban settings in dramas, noir thrillers and even comedies. Also, it's worth to point out that while their performances are really good, both Negrete and Lamarque look a tad too old for their roles, something specially noticeable in Lamarque's case.

Given its place in Buñuel's career as a completely mainstream commercial film between his early surrealist works and the success of "Los Olvidados", it's easy to dismiss it as a mistake in the master's filmography (the fact that it flopped at the box office does not help). Nevertheless, there are good things to appreciate in "Gran Casino", particularly the singing of both Negrete and Lamarque, and Jack Draper's work of cinematography. Granted, that may not be enough, but it's something. Personally, I think that amongst its flaws, the worst thing that "Gran Casino" has against it is the reputation of Buñuel himself, which makes the unoriginality of this little musical to feel a worse crime than what it is. In the end, "Gran Casino" is by no means a bad movie, just a quite average one. But it was only the beginning of Buñuel's career in Mexico.

6/10
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The Wicker Man (1973)

Ever since its troubled release back in 1973, director Robin Hardy's "The Wicker Man" has been slowly (but constantly) adding new members to its cult following as the film becomes better known, and it's just now that finally the movie is getting the praise it deserves as one of the best films ever made. Watching it now, more than 30 years after its release, it's hard to believe that this superb example of mystery and suspense in film was almost lost, as the financial problems of its production company (British Lion Films) nearly cost Hardy his movie. Fortunately, British Lion Films was bought and its new proprietor needed a movie released quickly; so Robin Hardy's film still managed to be finished, and while not exactly in the complete version of the director's vision, "The Wicker Man" was finally released theatrically and Hardy's tale of the disastrously horrific consequences of a clash of faiths was able to enchant us with its perfect mix of horror, mystery and suspense.

In "The Wicker Man", Edward Woodward plays Sergeant Neil Howie, an officer from the mainland who travels to the remote island of Summerisle after receiving an anonymous letter informing him of the disappearance of a young girl named Rowan. Immediately after his arrival to Summerisle, Howie begins his investigation, but discovers that the locals refuse having met Rowan in the island, as if the girl had never existed. Somewhat discouraged by the answers, Howie decides to keep investigating, and soon discovers that the population of the island follow a strange religion with pagan beliefs that are a complete shock for his very conservative Christian faith. As he discovers that there's a chance that young Rowan may still be alive (with the villagers being responsible for plotting her kidnapping), he decides to attempt to rescue her from what he thinks is a barbaric and uncivilized way of life, but he'll discover that there is much more in Summerisle than the case of a kidnapped child. In his trip to Summerisle, Sergeant Howie will also discover a different law from his own, and the true nature of sacrifice.

Writer Anthony Shaffer became fascinated by the idea of a modern clash of religions when he attempted to adapt David Pinner's novel "Ritual" to film, but while the adaptation failed, the idea became the source for "The Wicker Man"'s main theme: a confrontation between two extreme sides of religiousness. It's really amazing the way that Shaffer explores this theme through the story, because as the plot unfolds, he interestingly avoids to use the basic archetypes of "hero" and "villian", and just lets the characters be quite human, exposing their personalities and making the choices that ultimately drive the plot towards it's legendary finale. While he cleverly utilizes the missing child plot to raise questions about the nature of faith and believers, it's surprisingly never disrespectful about it; and while it certainly uses exaggerated features of both faiths in his characters, the movie is more a cry against blind fanaticism than against a specific religion.

Even when Shaffer's brilliant screenplay is one of the film's fundamental elements, the direction by Robin Hardy is what truly completes the circle and makes the whole movie what it is. Despite being under a serious budgetary problem, Hardy managed to bring to life Shaffer's thriller taking advantage of the script's exhaustively researched plot to create a movie that was ambiguously captivating, frighteningly realistic and of a simply otherworldly nature. By blending a very natural, almost semi-documentary visual look with the unforgettable folk score by Paul Giovanni (that updated old traditional songs), Hardy created a joyful atmosphere that despite being cheerful and playful at first sight, becomes increasingly haunting as the plot unfolds. Hardy maintains every element so human that it never feels illogical. In fact, that's perhaps what's so terrifying about "The Wicker Man", the fact that this, sociological horror, could really happen. Giving little to no clue about the mystery of the plot, Hardy maintains the suspense always at the maximum level in preparation to a sublime conclusion that has now become a classic.

Another of the film's best features are the incredible performance of the members of the cast. Edward Woodward is simply perfect in the difficult role of Sergeant Howie, delivering one of the best performances in the history of the horror genre as the main character of this brutal clash of cultures. The legendary Christopher Lee plays Lord Summerisle, owner and ruler of the island, and one of the movie's most interesting characters. Lee literally becomes Summerisle and fills the role with his natural charm and breathtaking talent, showing that there is more in him than the Dracula of his Hammer films. Director Hardy managed to convince Diane Cilento to come out of retirement and play a part in "The Wicker Man", adding her experience to the film's assortment of talents. Finally, Britt Ekland plays Willow, a local of Summersile who gets interested in the newly arrived cop. Ekland may not give a performance as amazing as her three co-stars, but she gives the eroticism the movie needs in an unforgettable scene.

Sadly, the first thing one notices about "The Wicker Man" is how dated it looks. While the themes at play are really universal, the movie can't help but look like a product of its time, specifically a product of Great Britain in the 70s. It's colors, it's overall design, it all feels quite dated by now. True, this can be a flaw in a way, however, thanks to the style Hardy took on the making of the film (like truly exploring a different culture) make up for this flaw, justifying it and giving the film the look of a real documentary film. This of course has the immediate result of increasing its gritty realism in frightening proportions. Through the years, "The Wicker Man" has faced some criticism due to the constant use of songs through the movie, almost to the point of being labeled a pseudo musical film. While this is true to an extent (the songs are certainly omnipresent, and a couple may break the pace the film has at times), I think that the way they are used fits perfectly the detailed plot and its intended theme, adding as well an enormous amount of realism to Summerisle village and its culture.

"The Wicker Man" may look like another typical thriller with the same kind of mystery and suspense that has been done over and over for a long long time, but it's actually one of the most intelligent and interesting movies ever made. It is a brilliantly written movie that invites its audience to question the nature of heroism and morality, and to witness how far mankind can go for their beliefs. Raising difficult yet interesting question, Hardy and Shaffer create in "The Wicker Man" a powerful tale about faith that definitely leaves a mark on its viewers, regardless of their beliefs. While it really looks dated by now, it's still one of those movies where everything fits in the right place, making the movie as a whole feel like perfect. "The Wicker Man" is definitely a must-see, and not only for the horror genre fans, but for everyone interested in cinema in general. Time to keep the appointment with "The Wicker Man".

10/10
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Allá en el Rancho Grande (1949)

In more than one way, 1936's "Allá en el Rancho Grande" was the film that inaugurated the Golden Age of Mexican cinema. It was not only the country's first huge box office hit, but also the first Mexican film to be exported to foreign markets and the first to win an international prize (Best Cinematography at Venice in 1938). Still, it was a bittersweet victory for its director, Fernando De Fuentes, because its tremendous commercial success proved him that audiences preferred music and light comedy over his previous, darker, more complex and more personal films (his three wonderful films about the Mexican Revolution for example). While his great skill and talented vision kept aiming for great artistry (and even achieved it, as 1943's "Doña Bárbara" proves), his work remained mostly in the commercial side of cinema, making a series of musical comedies with popular actor Jorge Negrete. In fact, along Negrete he would revisit Rancho Grande in 1949, in a color remake of that very first hit, "Allá en el Rancho Grande".

"Allá en el Rancho Grande" ("Over at the Big Ranch") is the story of José Francisco (Jorge Negrete) and Felipe (Eduardo Noriega), friends since childhood at the Hacienda of Rancho Grande. Felipe has inherited the ranch, and makes his good friend the farm manager of Rancho Grande. José Franciso is secretly in love with Cruz (Lilia Del Valle), an orphan who has been working as a maid for José Francisco's godmother Ángela (Lupe Inclán) since they arrived to Rancho Grande. Ángela has never liked Cruz and always treats her bad, so now that he is the farm manager, José Francisco is decided to marry her in order to take her somewhere else. All he needs is money, so he goes to another ranch to compete in a horse race. In the meantime, Ángela needs money too so, knowing that Felipe likes Cruz a lot, she conceives a plan to get the money she needs and get rid of Cruz at the same time. This will unleash a series of misunderstandings that will put Felipe and José Francisco's friendship to the test.

This remake of "Allá en el Rancho Grande" uses essentially the very same screenplay the original did, which was written by director Fernando De Fuentes and Antonio Guzmán Aguilera, based on a story by Guzmán Aguilera and his sister Luz. This means that other than a few minor changes, those familiar with the original won't find anything new in this aspect, as even the dialogs are almost exactly the same in both versions. Filled with all the basic elements of the very Mexican sub-genre of "Comedia Ranchera" (literally "Rancher Comedy"), the Guzmáns' original story took the always popular theme of a rural love triangle and gave it a tone of light comedy, playing with music, folklore and classic Mexican stereotypes to make it an idealized, romantic vision of Mexican identity. And despite being clichéd and predictable (like the original), the story works, mainly because of the way the characters (as stereotyped as they are) interact with each other and the gags and emotions that result of those interactions.

Not only De Fuentes' second version of "Allá en el Rancho Grande" used the same script, it was also almost a shot by shot remake of it. However, the major difference between them are that the remake was conceived with the idea of giving major importance to songs and the color technology achieved by Cinecolor. Having directed Mexico's first color film (1942's "Así Se Quiere en Jalisco"), De Fuentes was familiar with the process, so he decided to take advantage of color and make this version a bit more stylish, moving away from the slightly more natural vision of the original and instead using Carlos Toussaint's production design and Jack Draper's cinematography to achieve a lavish, more idealized vision (this is quite notorious in two scenes: the cockfight and the march at dusk after it). Unfortunately, the version I watched was in black and white, but even seen without color De Fuentes' intentions are very obvious as the scenes are planned to showcase this colorful vision of Mexico.

As written above, music also gets a bigger role in this film, and that's definitely because of the presence of Jorge Negrete. A remarkable talent, Negrete once again delivers an effective performance as farm manager José Francisco, proving again with his natural charm and extraordinary singing ability why was he called "El Charro Cantor" ("The Singing Charro"). Sadly, Negrete faces a problem that his great talent alone can't overcome: his age. It's not that he fails to deliver, the problem is simply that Jorge Negrete is just a bit too old for the role, and in this case, it shows. José Francisco's main traits are a mix of bravery and naiveté, and Negrete is just too old for showing them in a natural way. If he was 10 years younger, he would had been the perfect lead actor for "Allá en el Rancho Grande" (if only he had been in the original). Unfortunately, the rest of the cast isn't as consummated or effective as Negrete, and at best, are mere inferior copies of the original cast's performances.

While Negrete manages to deliver, Eduardo Noriega is wooden and stiff as Felipe, lacking the class and presence the character required. Even if he (like Negrete) does look like a real Charro, his work is pretty mediocre, easily overshadowed by the rest of the cast. As Cruz, Lilia Del Valle doesn't feel natural in her role, looking forced and at odds with her character. If there's anyone besides Negrete who manages to do a good job, that's comedian Armando Soto "Chicote", whom truly makes his character his own, despite playing the most stereotyped of all. Given the uneven performances by the cast, it seems as if De Fuentes was more focused on the visual look of the film than in his cast, but that's not the film's worst problem. The real problem is that, like Negrete, 1949's "Allá en el Rancho Grande" simply feels old. Being a shot by shot remake of the film that started it all, the movie's gags are tired and the whole thing clichéd, as in only 13 years the "Comedia Ranchera" became the ruling genre of Mexican cinema, and this film was like a step back in time.

Personally, I'm not against the idea of remakes, as I think that they are often good chances to do things differently or improve failures, but I also think that to do this is harder than it seems. De Fuentes' second version of "Allá en el Rancho Grande" had a good basis (to add color to a classic story), but he failed to see that the technological update wouldn't be enough for a genre like comedy, which tends to be in constant change, and that the same jokes and situations would feel old and tired very quickly on a second time. Still, the remake of "Allá en el Rancho Grande" has the merit of having some of Negrete's best interpretations, although it's a shame that like De Fuentes' colorful vision, they get wasted on a remake that's just slightly better than your average "Comedia Ranchera".

6/10

Buy "Allá en el Rancho Grande" (1949)

Allá en el Rancho Grande (1936)

During the post-production of "Vámonos Con Pancho Villa!", Mexican director Fernando De Fuentes found himself in serious problems that threatened not only the release of his most recent and ambitious film, but also his career as a filmmaker. While his epic about the Mexican Revolution had support from the government, it had gone over-budget and to make things worse, the government wasn't exactly happy with De Fuentes' critic view on the revolutionary movement. The fact that his previous films (amongst them the superbly done "El Compadre Mendoza") weren't exactly hits complicated everything even more. This situation forced De Fuentes to take one last chance to save his career while his masterpiece awaited for a release date: he decided to make a film with the sole intention of winning back some money. And he made it with a success beyond what anybody could have expected. 1936's "Allá en el Rancho Grande" would become Mexico's biggest box office hit and the film that started the Golden Age of Mexican Cinema.

At the Hacienda of Rancho Grande, José Francisco (Tito Guízar) and Felipe (René Cardona) have been friends since childhood, when José Francisco and his sister Eulalia (Margarita Cortéz) moved with their godmother Ángela (Emma Roldán) when they became orphans. With them came Cruz (Esther Fernández), another orphan who had been living with them, being the godchild of José Francisco's late mother. Felipe is now the owner of Rancho Grande, making José Francisco the farm manager as his old friend is by far his most trustworthy employee. José Francisco is secretly in love with Cruz, who has always been considered to be nothing more than a servant by Ángela, although Ángela's permanently drunk "husband" Florentino (Carlos López "Chaflán") cares for her and treats her like a daughter. Things get complicated for Felipe and José Francisco when a series of misunderstandings put their friendship to the test after Ángela notices that Felipe likes Cruz as well. And all this happens "Allá en el Rancho Grande" ("Over at the Big Ranch").

While hardly an original plot (rural love triangles have been popular themes in Latin American cinema since the silent era), the story by Antonio Guzmán Aguilera and Luz Guzmán De Arellano had a strong dose of light comedy that made the film a lot lighter and more accessible, element that along the omnipresent use of folk music and whole rural theme resulted in the creation of one of the "most Mexican" genres: the "Comedia Ranchera" (literally, "Rancher Comedy"). Essentially a romantic comedy, "Allá en el Rancho Grande" has a set of characters that, while definitely idealized stereotypes, work together perfectly in conjunction in the romanticized world of the "Comedia Ranchera", that world where honor, love and friendship were far more important than money or social classes. Maybe "Allá en el Rancho Grande" wasn't really the first attempt of making a romantic comedy set in an Hacienda, but Antonio and Luz Guzmán's story was definitely the first to fully use the genre to give flesh to that idyllic idea of Mexican identity that was the "Comedia Ranchera".

However, the creation of this extremely folkloric view of the Mexican identity wasn't only credit of the writers, and it could be said that the real mastermind behind it was director De Fuentes himself. This is kind of a sad irony, as after making three movies where he demythologized the story of the Mexican Revolution, De Fuentes' "Allá en el Rancho Grande" built a brand new mythical Mexican identity almost singlehandedly. With great care for style, De Fuentes brings the Guzmáns' story to life in a quite honest, natural and realistic way, which is notable since the whole story is ultimately artificial in its romanticized view. It could be said that De Fuentes made the story timeless, recreating reality by making real the whole new myths of the Mexican identity. A lot of this comes thanks to the work of cinematographer Gabriel Figueroa, who begins to develop the lavish, dreamlike style that would represent the Mexican identity in the celebrated films of Emilio "El Indio" Fernández (whom by the way, appears as an extra, specifically a dancer, in this film).

One of the best things about "Allá en el Rancho Grande" is how effective the cast's performances are. It's not that they are great displays of talent, but the fact that everyone is just perfect for their respective role. while not exactly the traditional image of the Mexican Charro, Guízar and Cardona fit nicely in De Fuentes' romantic vision of life at the hacienda. Already famous for his singing roles in American Westerns, Guízar became the first singing Charro of Mexican cinema, paving the way for posterior idols such as Jorge Negrete and Pedro Infante. Besides his singing ability, Guízar shows a very natural naiveté that works nicely in the role of the young and honorable Charro. At the same time, Cardona (who would later become a director) gives his character a certain degree of elegance and class very much in tone with his position as the owner of Rancho Grande. The beautiful Esther Fernández is also excellent in her role, although is is comedian Carlos López "Chaflán" who steals many of the film's scenes.

Given its openly commercial intentions (and the huge extent it fulfilled them), "Allá en el Rancho Grande" is often overshadowed by De Fuentes' Revolution Trilogy and considered a minor gem, only worthy due to its big historical importance. However, I personally think that such downgrading is a bit unfair, as while it's definitely nowhere near the quality of De Fuentes' more recognized films, "Allá en el Rancho Grande" is a remarkable film that successfully achieves what it intends to do. One could say that such justification is not valid, as what "Allá en el Rancho Grande" attempted was just to deliver good jokes and good songs in order to deliver enjoyable entertainment, but I think that what De Fuentes, the Guzmáns and Figueroa did in this light comedy goes beyond. Just like the American Western had began to rewrite the American myths, the "Comedia Ranchera" genre that De Fuentes' movie inaugurated began to create a new mythology of the Mexican rural world, a mythology that despite being unrealistic, was at its core still sincerely Mexican.

Along the Revolution Trilogy (1933's "El Prisionero Trece", 1934's "El Comparde Mendoza" and 1936's "Vámonos con Pancho Villa!"), "Allá en el Rancho Grande" is essential viewing in order to understand not only the career of this influential director, but also the way the Mexican film industry developed after its release. Seeing how "Vámonos con Pancho Villa!" failed at box office while at the same time this movie was breaking all records was very symptomatic; however, De Fuentes (and posterior directors) would learn later that commercial success wasn't in conflict with artistic merit, and over that lesson the Golden Age of Mexican Cinema was built.

8/10

Buy "Alla en el Rancho Grande" (1936)

The Blues Brothers (1980)

Ever since its initial broadcast, comedy show "Saturday Night Live" has been the launching place for many comedians who use the chance of being in the show as a way to develop their talents and aim for a career on film. As members of the first generation of the show, Dan Aykroyd and John Belushi were among the very first of the cast to make the jump from the show to the film industry. Although the pair had moderate success at first, Belushi became a modern icon of American comedy in 1978 with John Landis' "Animal House". It was after that success when the two friends decided to make a movie about one of the most successful "Saturday Night Live" characters, the pair of R&B singers: "The Blues Brothers". Being his most beloved creation, Aykroyd began to write the full story of the characters, but ended up with over 300 pages of script. It would be again director John Landis who would take the challenge of transforming Aykroyd's script into a realizable movie.

The movie begins with the release from prison of Jake Blues (John Belushi), co-founder and singer of the Blues Brothers band after serving a sentence for robbery. After being picked up by his brother Elwood (Dan Aykroyd), he is informed that the band broke up after his incarceration and that the Blues Brothers are apparently over. However, after discovering that the old Catholic home where they were raised as kids is going to be sold because of its debts, the brothers decide that its their mission, a mission from God, to get the money to save the orphan's house, and that the only way to achieve that goal will be to reform the legendary Blues Brothers band. With this idea the brothers set to find the band's former members, but in their way they'll find new enemies in the form of a Neo-Nazi group, a country band, and a mysterious woman who by some unknown reason wants the two Blues brothers dead.

Written by Aykroyd and Landis, the script is essentially a musical tale that cleverly mixes action and comedy while paying homage to that good old rhythm and blues music that both were so fond of. While Aykroyd's extensive and detailed account of the characters' history has been transformed into a simpler, straight forward plot by Landis, the change is very effective as this way to unfold the story is more in tone with the frank and raw attitude of the brothers. The story is fast paced, as the brothers' tale of redemption is one of high octane energy with powerful musical performances and insane car chases that never make the story boring or tiresome. At its very core, the film's plot is probably simplistic, but making up for the simple plot are the very distinctive and extremely likable personalities of the two main characters, who carry the movie with their charm and a presence that proves that a memorable character is made of more than just a collection of one liners.

In this his fourth movie as a director, John Landis once again demonstrated why he was one of the most promising directors of the early 80s, showing a significant growth in his style of directing comedy that clearly set the basis for his 1981 masterpiece, "An American Werewolf in London". Already a master of the direction of big and complex set pieces, Landis takes this to a new level with the amazing car chases conceived for the film. With a bigger budget than in his three previous efforts, Landis creates an explosive musical that perfectly represents everything that Aykroyd and Belushi conceived as "The Blues Brothers": a celebration of R&B via two characters who really live their music, have that attitude and truly are "soul men". The duo's main trait is the music, and Landis knew this well, so the film is filled not only with the brothers' interpretations of R&B classics, but also the ones by real R&B legends such as Ray Charles, Aretha Franklin and Cab Calloway among others.

As expected, the performances by John Belushi and Dan Aykroyd are of an excellent quality. While less over the top than in "Animal House", Belushi's genius for comedy shines through the film in his energetic role of Jake Blues, who is the one who receives the "mission from God". As the laconic Elwood, Dan Aykroyd delivers the subtler comedy in the movie, and shows a complete domain of his character and a great ability to play the straight man to Belushi's explosive Jake. Together the pair make an excellent team that not only deliver fun comedy but also make an outstanding musical duo. While the Blues brothers are certainly the focus of the story, the vast array of guest stars that appear through the film deliver terrific performances when singing (Ray Charles, James Brown), acting (John Candy, Carrie Fisher) or both (the unforgettable Cab Calloway). The musical performances are simply top notch and make the film a really special experience for music lovers.

As written above, the movie is first and foremost a musical homage to Chicago, so those expecting a spoof, a parody, or a laugh riot comedy will definitely find a different kind of beast. This is not to say that there is no comedy, on the contrary, the movie is filled with a good amount of laughs and clever puns, but the focus of the film remains first and foremost on the music. Still, "The Blues Brothers" is not your typical musical, as its fast pace makes it a thrilling ride like no other movie, and probably the features that most perfectly represents this are the amazing car chases that the stunt team developed for the movie. As in a rocking dance of destruction, the cars crash and smash across the streets of Chicago in some of the most incredible stunts on film. Some have criticized the emphasis put on this scenes, but I think that they fit perfectly in the mood and tone of the film, and basically in the attitude of the brothers themselves.

Without a doubt the Blues brothers are two of the best and most famous characters created by Belushi and Aykroyd, and this movie truly makes them justice (although I find the original cut to be slightly better than the extended one). While not the deepest or most insightful movie ever, "The Blues Brothers" is definitely one of the most entertaining ones, and its magic lays in that frank simplicity that surrounds the movie's story. Still, this simplicity doesn't mean it's a stupid comedy (like the many that are out there) or that it's void film, on the contrary, it's quite an intelligent movie that celebrates Chicago and its music like few others. Raw and direct, "The Blues Brothers" is a movie that truly makes Chicago feel like home, sweet home.

8/10

Buy "The Blues Brothers" (1980)

Sabor a Sangre (1977)

One of the most famous figures of Mexican cinema was without a doubt Antonio Aguilar, a very popular singer of northern Mexican folk music (like Corridos) whom after debuting on the big screen in 1952, would become the star of many Westerns of the singing cowboy variety. Unfortunately, most of his movies wouldn't be of the the level of quality that had the ones starring other famous singing cowboys like Pedro Infante or Luis Aguilar (no relation), as Antonio's career started when the Golden Age of Mexican cinema was reaching its end and the industry was facing serious problems. Despite this, it could be said that Antonio Aguilar's movies kept the Mexican Western alive in the difficult decades of the 60s and 70s, as he adapted his singing cowboy style to the rawer grittier Westerns of those decades. However, this mix wasn't always smooth, as 1977's "Sabor a Sangre" proves.

In "Sabor a Sangre" (literally, "Flavor of Blood"), Antonio Aguilar plays Mauricio Rosales, whom along his good friend Chelelo (Eleazar García) are traveling towards another friend's ranch. During their trip, they find the dead bodies of a group of men, so they take them to the next town hoping to find some answers. At the town, they are informed that the dead men were a posse sent by police chief Rómulo (José Gálvez) to kill "El Tigre", a mysterious serial killer who has been hunting down the townspeople, viciously killing even women and children. Mauricio and Chelelo decide to stay in town to help the chief hunt El Tigre and put an end to the killings, but as they get involved, they discover that the horror brought by El Tigre is related to a secret incident part of the town's dark past. And to make things worse, the questions they begin to ask begin to win them enemies on their own side.

Written by Jorge Patiño (based on a story by the film's director, Mario Hernández), "Sabor a Sangre" is yet another variation of the classic Western storyline of a stranger (two strangers in this case) arriving to a town in order to help the townspeople to solve a problem. What makes the movie different from other Westerns is the way it depicts the killer's actions, as everything about him is kept completely secret for about two thirds of the story, making El Tigre akin to the serial killers in horror films (and the way Hernández shots the film enhances this aspect), with identity and motives hidden to both the characters and the audience. While the movie has a dark theme as the background (that gets darker as secrets are unveiled), it follows the conventions of typical Mexican musical Westerns, which means that many songs are included as well as a good dose of comic relief.

As written above, director Mario Hernández enhances the horror elements of the story by using a clever device to kept El Tigre a mystery: all his actions are shot from a first person point of view, similar to what John Carpenter would do the following year in his classic "Halloween". However, while Carpenter would use this for suspense, Hernández uses it for mystery, with the purpose of showing first hand the violence and brutality of this mysterious killer. Hernández uses a raw and very gritty style (cinematography by Agustín Lara Alvarado) which although probably the result of budgetary constrains, fits nicely the violent nature of the movie. While Hernández brings excellent performances from his cast, it's obvious that he can't handle the mix of musical and serious drama, as the film moves from one genre to another with the subtlety of a sledgehammer.

As usual, Antonio Aguilar is very good in his performance as the smart Mauricio, whom is more prone to use his wits than his fists to win a battle. As expected, his singing is also excellent, although the movie made me think that he was a better actor than what his roles tended to demand him. As his carefree friend Chelelo, Eleazar García is effective, and together with Aguilar has some good comedy moments, although others not as effective. José Galvez has a very interesting role as the mysterious police officer, and he definitely makes the most of it, but the actor that really steals the show is Rubén Aguirre as the town's priest. Better known for his comedy roles (with Chespirito for example), Aguirre shows in this movie a great talent for drama as well. Flor Silvestre (Antonio's real life wife) has a small role but it's clear that she appears in the film only because of her singing.

"Sabor a Sangre" would be one of the best and most interesting mixes of horror and western done in Mexico if it wasn't for the fact that the inclusion of songs feel terribly forced and out of place. In fact, I would say that if the songs were changed for more character development, the movie would be perfect. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy singing cowboy films and Aguilar and Silvestre did have an enormous talent for singing, but the story of "Sabor a Sangre" is just too dark, violent and gritty for this kind of Western, as the musical segments (mostly Mexican folk ballads) do break the pace in a very awkward way despite the high quality of the singers. Still, when the movie moves away from the songs and focuses on the mystery, it does work nicely and even the comedy by Chelelo (and comedian "Chicote" in a brief role) fits nicely in a movie that seems taken from a pulp novel.

It's obvious that being an Aguilar vehicle, singing would be an intrinsic part of the movie, but for once I hoped the movie focused on the action and not in the songs, as behind its flaws, there is a good movie to see here. "Sabor a Sangre" may not be a very well remembered Western (not even in its country of origin), but it's actually one of Aguilar's most interesting movies (despite its obvious shortcomings). It's not exactly a great movie, but in it one can see how Mexican cinema was evolving during the hard years of the 70s, and how Aguilar's persona helped to take the Mexican Western through those days.

6/10

Buy "Sabor a Sangre" (1977) and other Mexican Horror films

In the picture, Antonio Aguilar and Marina Dorel preparing themselves to shoot a scene of "Sabor a Sangre" (1977). I couldn't find the original poster art.

Skeleton Frolics (1937)

In 1929, director Walt Disney and animator Ub Iwerks changed the face of animation with the release of the very first installment of their "Silly Symphonies" series, "The Skeleton Dance". Iwerks and Disney had been collaborating together since the early 20s, in Disney's "Laugh-O-Gram" cartoon series; however, their friendship suffered a tremendous blow when Iwerks accepted an offer by a competitor to leave Disney and start his own animation studio. That was the birth of Celebrity Productions, where Iwerks continued developing his style and technique (and where he created the character of Flip the Frog). While his work kept the same high quality, it wasn't really popular and by 1936 the studio was closed. Later that year, Iwerks was hired by Columbia Pictures, and Iwerks decided to return to his old skeletons for another dance, this time in color.

1937's "Skeleton Frolics" is essentially, a remake of the 1929 classic "The Skeleton Dance", the movie that borough him fame and fortune. Like that short film, it is set on an abandoned graveyard, where at midnight the creatures of the night come alive and begin to play. The dead rise from their coffins, ready for the show that's about to begin, as a group of skeletons has formed an orchestra, and begin to play a happy tune. Now, it's not easy to be a musician made of just bones, as some of the orchestra members have problems with their body parts, however, the band manages to put a good show and another group of skeletons begin to dance. A lovely couple of them faces the same problems that troubled the orchestra: it's hard to dance with loose body parts. Everything ends at dawn, and just when the sun is about to rise again, the skeletons run towards their graves.

Directed and animated by Ub Iwerks himself, "Skeleton Frolics" follows faithfully the pattern set by "The Skeleton Dance" years before, although with a crucial difference: Iwerks did the whole film in Technicolor. The bright tonalities allowed Iwerks to create a more visually appealing film, and also to use the many new techniques he had been practicing since leaving Disney, creating even better effects of depth and dynamism than those he conceived before. It is certainly a more experimental film than "The Skeleton Dance", although sadly, this doesn't mean it's necessarily a better film. For starters, the film is practically identical to the one he did with Disney, with the only differences being the music (more on that later) and the color effects. It looks beautiful, no doubt about it, but it definitely feels kind of unoriginal after all.

However, it is not the unoriginality of the concept what truly hurts the film (after all, Iwerks executes it in a wonderful way), but the fact that the musical melody created by Joe DeNat for the film is pretty uninteresting and lacks the charming elegance and whimsical fun of the one done by Carl W. Stalling for "The Skeleton Dance". In other words, while DeNat's tune is effective and appropriate for the theme, it's easy to forget about it rapidly while Stalling's song has a unique personality that makes it unforgettable. Being a musical film, this is of high importance, and so the mediocrity of the music brings down Iwerk's flawless work of animation. Personally, I think that with a better musical accompaniment, "Skeleton Frolics" would be remembered as fondly as "The Skeleton Dance despite not being as groundbreaking, as it's still a fun film to watch.

It's kind of sad that most of the work Iwerks did after leaving Disney is now forgotten due to his poor success, however, it must be said that if Iwerks lacked the popularity of Disney or Fleischer (Disney's main rival), he did not lack the quality of those companies' films. It was probably just a case of bad luck what made the man who gave life to Disney's mouse for the first time to face failure out of Disney. Despite its shortcomings, "Skeleton Frolics" is a very funny and visually breathtaking film, that while not exactly the most original and fresh film (one just can't help but thinking of "The Skeleton Dance" while watching it), it definitely reminds us that Iwerk's skeletons are still here to haunt us, and inspire us.

8/10


Buy "Skeleton Frolics" (1937)

The Skeleton Dance (1929)

It was in 1928 when sound entered the realm of motion pictures and with it a new age arrived to the young medium and the conventions of an art form were changed forever. This new technology, that allowed movies to be able to have their own musical score independent of the theater's orchestra, entered the mind of a young film director and animator named Walt Disney, who had been producing short animated films with the help of the brilliant cartoonist Ub Iwerks. Disney decided to take advantage of the novelty of sound and create a series of short musical animations to distribute along their Mickey Mouse cartoons (which also began to be produced with sound), in which they would be able to experiment with new techniques, characters and ideas. He named the series, "Silly Symphonies", and the very first one of them, 1929's "The Skeleton Dance", would revolutionize animation forever.

In "The Skeleton Dance", the action is set on an abandoned graveyard during a windy night under the full moon. It is the perfect night for the creatures of the night, and so the bats fly from the belfry, the spiders go out for a walk, and an owl watches scared the action that's about to begin: the dead rise from their graves, and they are ready to dance. A skeleton comes out first, scaring a couple of cats who were fighting, and then he calls his friends, other skeletons who are willing to play some music and celebrate. Using their bones as musical instruments, the Skeletons play a haunting tune, dance to the music, and even dance Ring Around the Rosie, having fun until the moon hides and the new day begins, because as soon as the rooster appears to announce that it's morning, the Skeletons must return to their graves, and prepare themselves for the next time.

Created by Ub Iwerks and Walt Disney, "The Skeleton Dance" is, as its tag-line says, a talking picture novelty in which audiences where able to witness a good song accompanied by an animated film, pretty much similar to what we now know as a musical video. What makes the movie amazing is the way it perfectly mixes the horror atmosphere of its setting with the whimsical comedy that made Walt Disney Productions' short films so popular with the audiences. Skulls, bats, cats and spiders make an apparition in the movie, in what could be the perfect scenario for a horror film, but this time the skeletons only want to have fun. Carl W. Stalling, composer of the film's song (and another influential figure in the history of animation), creates in "The Skeleton Dance" one of the best Disney tunes ever, perfectly putting in his music that mix of horror and humor that the short film embodies.

Ub Iwerks' art shines through the film, and Disney makes sure to take the most advantage of his friend's talent. As written above, they saw the "Silly Symphonies" as a way to experiment, and "The Skeleton Dance" showcases Iwerks and his team making a highly dynamic film, as well as creating pretty impressive sequences where perspective is put to great use. It's also very imaginative the many things they do with their skeletons, specially when they made them use the things found in the cemetery as musical instruments (including cats, and later, their own bones). The choreography of the Skeleton dance is very funny, and one gets the feeling that this group of young animators were truly having fun when making this little film. In many ways, "The Skeleton Dance" was way ahead of its time, and includes elements that years later would be part of the horror genre.

Among Disney's early films, "The Skeleton Dance" is one of enormous importance, as thanks to its big success Disney was able to produce more cartoons of his established characters. It also produced many imitators (WB's "Merry Melodies" and MGM's "Happy Harmonies" being the best of them) and a completely new style of short animations. Sadly, the friendship between Disney and Iwerks would be broken and Iwerks abandoned Disney in 1930 to open his own studio and later to work at Columbia Pictures (where in 1937 he remade "The Skeleton Dance" in color, under the name of "Skeleton Frolics"). While he never found the same success he had with Disney, Ub Iwerks' work proved to be among the most influential in the history of animation, becoming the teacher of other masters like Chuck Jones, and even now, animators today study the magic of Ub Iwerks and his dancing skeletons.

10/10



Buy "The Skeleton Dance (1929) and more of Disney's early shorts

Bottles (1936)

In 1929, Walt Disney Productions began to produce one of the most influential series of short films of all time, "Silly Symphonies". Unlike Disney's other famous series of shorts ("Mickey Mouse"), the "Silly Symphonies" shorts wasn't about the company's famous recurring characters, but were more about experimenting with new techniques and styles of animation. This approach made "Silly Symphonies" very popular, and soon other animation teams began to follow that approach, like Warner Bros' "Merrie Melodies". Among the best of the shorts influenced by "Silly Symphonies" was definitely "Happy Harmonies", a series of musical short films created by former WB employees, Hugh Harman and Rudolf Ising, which was distributed by Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer. Produced in Technicolor, "Happy Harmonies" showed a technical proficiency at times as good as the shorts by Warner and Disney, and 1936's "Bottles" is a good example of this.

The story of "Bottles" is pretty simple: During a dark stormy night, a Druggist is working late making what seems to be a new kind of poison, as the bottle has its top shaped as a skull. The druggist falls asleep, and at this moment, the Bottle of poison comes alive, using a potion to shrink the druggist to the size of a bottle. The druggist awakes, shocked after being magically miniaturized, but his shock becomes marvel as he discovers the secret world of his bottles, who by night come alive and begin to sing. Baby bottles crying in harmony, dancing Scotch whiskey, and two bottles of salt water who dance like sailors are just some of the many bottles who participate in the dancing and the singing with the druggist. However, not everything is fun and party, as the deadly bottle of poison has a secret plan for the druggist, and recruits the witch-hazel and the Spirits of Ammonia for his evil scheme.

Like most of the "Happy Harmonies", the movie was written and produced by Hugh Harman and Rudolf Ising, with the music and the songs written by their regular collaborator at MGM, Scott Bradley. As usual in their cartoons, the movie is based on the concept of inanimate things coming to life, in surreal experiences where the inanimate things sing, dance and behave as real persons. Anyways, inn "Bottles" they show a lot more of imagination and wit in the creation of the characters, as while at times the link between the bottle and their persona is pretty obvious, there are a couple where the connection between them is a very creative and unexpected one. The comedy is done in lighthearted fun, although the plot about the Poison bottle has a nice touch of the horror as it's filled with a good dose of suspense. Finally, Bradley's songs are fantastic, and some of the best in an MGM cartoon.

Produced in wonderful Technicolor, "Bottles" is a beautifully looking cartoon that makes excellent use of the variety of colors that the Technicolor process allowed director Hugh Harman to use. Harman brings Bradley's song come alive in remarkably well designed musical numbers where the highly detailed bottles (resembling popular brands of those years) act like singers and dancers in the film's choreographs. The visual look of the movie retains the same style that Harman and Ising had been developed since their years at Warner Brothers, with very fluid and dynamic animation and, as written above, carefully designed characters. Also, given the horror elements of the story, the directors add a nice touch of Gothic atmosphere to the movie that works perfectly within the film, with the serious looking "monster bottles" making good contrast with the "good" bottles.

While there's a lot to praise in "Bottles", it also carries with what was the bane of the musical "Happy Harmonies" films done without Bosko, their signature character: the plots were pretty much the same. So, even when "Bottles" does include some of the cleverest character design of all the "Happy Harmonies" films, when one has seen a film from this series, the rest will invariably look like repetitive. However, if one can get past these flaw, "Bottles" is a very rewarding cartoon, as it manages to play on the many stereotypes of the culture of 1930s without being insulting or disrespectful in any way (as some other short films from those years were). Showing a remarkable use of the Technicolor process, "Bottles" is all about good fun, good music, and of course, a few scares.

8/10

Hasta los Huesos (2001)

Through the history of Mexican cinema, animated films never had a really strong presence until the decade of the 80s, when the relative success of José Luis Moro's "Katy" (a co-production with Spain) renewed the interest in animated films. Granted, there had been many attempts of making animation before, but there was never a real tradition of animated films in the Mexican film industry. Still, the country's many economical troubles stopped the development of animation once again until the 90s when the films by Carlos Carrera ("El Héroe") and the team of René Castillo and Antonio Urrutia ("Sin Sostén") proved that there was still talented animators in Mexico working independently. The 21st century has brought once again a renewed interest in Mexican animation, with many new films done in its first decade. Castillo's second film, "Hasta Los Huesos", it's among the best of this new generation.

"Hasta Los Huesos" begins with the burial of a recently deceased man (Bruno Bichir). In a lonely afternoon, the undertakers carry his coffin while his widow cries hopelessly and a kid who was passing by watches the whole scene. After the coffin has been buried, the man suddenly awakes, however, he is not really alive, as the passage to an underground world opens at the bottom of his coffin. The man falls through the passage and lands in what seems to be a strange stage. As he gets up, he notices that he is now in some kind of bohemian bar where everyone is a skeleton and it seems that the party has just started. Confused, the man walks to the bar, bothered by a worm that keeps biting him and sad as he realizes that he is now dead. As a drink is served to him, a beautiful woman's voice begins to sing, it's the Catrina (Eugenia León), Death herself, who is here to help him understand that to be dead is not so bad.

Known in English as "Down to the Bone" (although it's not an exact translation), "Hasta Los Huesos" was written by director René Castillo himself, who inspired by the Mexican tradition of Day of the Dead, built up a story that thematically could be considered as a loose sequel to his previous film. While "Sin Sostén" was about a man choosing to die, this film deals with the theme of accepting death, as our hero here refuses to accept that death has already taken him away. Like in his previous film, Castillo uses a lighthearted tone of comedy to deal with this dark and melancholic subject, and once again he succeeds in creating a charming bittersweet fable that culminates in a fantastic use of the haunting traditional Mexican song titled "La Llorona" ("The Crying Woman"). Through its 12 minutes of duration, the plot unfolds nicely, and without dialogs (other than the song lyrics), Castillo manages to tell more with images than with words.

"Hasta Los Huesos" follows the same style in both character and set design that Castillo used in his previous film, but this time the result looks a lot more polished, with an even more fluid animation and more complex movements. The cinematography is again in charge of Sergio Ulloa, who once again makes a wonderful job in capturing Castillo's macabre fantasy world with great skill. Clearly inspired by the Day of the Dead festivities, the visual look of "Hasta Los Huesos" has a distinctive Mexican touch that gives the movie a special charm, as Castillo's vision of the underworld resembles the visual style of such celebrations, mainly the zinc etchings by Mexican printmaker José Guadalupe Posada. Despite the macabre themes, "Hasta Los Huesos" is certainly less dark than "Sin Sostén", as Castillo seems to prefer comedy over drama and have a more optimistic view of life this time.

With an astonishing visual look, beautiful music (performed by Mexican rock band "Café Tacuba") and a cleverly written story, "Hasta Los Huesos" is a wonderful animated movie that gives a glimpse of what animation in Mexico could become one day with the appropriate support, and that "New Mexican Cinema" can be more than urban dramas and touch genres such as fantasy and horror. Together with filmmaker Antonio Urrutia, René Castillo proved that clay animation wasn't out of the wave of new Mexican cinema that came out in the 90s. Three years later, Castillo returns and creates a masterpiece that infinitely surpasses what he achieved in his first short. Hopefully, his talents will create a feature length animated movie someday, as if "Hasta Los Huesos" is an indication of the future of Mexican animation, the future looks good.

9/10