By Nia Edwards-Behi
Portmanteau films, eh? They’ve made quite the comeback in recent years and there seem to be many more due this year. Mexico Barbaro is a particularly exciting entry into this come back, showcasing as it does 8 directors from Mexico, one of many Latin American countries currently making waves in the genre. There’s no wrap-around to this film, which unfortunately makes it a little incoherent – yes, the general theme is Mexican legends and tales, but a bit more of a sense of order or connection between films would have been welcome.
The film begins with Laurette Flores Bornn’s Tzompantli which sets a nice tone for the film, with a merging of worlds of a very modern and very ancient Mexico. This is a thematic element which seems to suffuse many of the film’s entries, and indeed I felt throughout that there may have been many a cultural reference that was going over my head.
The second film is Jaral de Berrios by Edgar Nito, which takes us back in time some. Essentially a Western, two bandits take shelter in a sprawling mansion, only to discover a sinister presence there. It’s got some great special effects, and is suitably tense, as any haunted mansion should be. It’s not the film’s only Western, either, as one of my favourite segments of the film, Siete Veces Siete by Ulises Guzmán, also uses the familiar setting and imagery of a Western to tell its tale. It’s the most well-structured segment of the film, and I think it makes the best of use of its short form. It features some of the most striking imagery in the film, as well as a wonderfully twisted narrative.
Aaron Soto’s Drena is almost so bonkers it’s automatically brilliant, though I’m not honestly sure I understood it. A young girl finds a dead body, steals a cigarette from the corpse’s hand, and later smokes it. Then, a monstrous visitation gives the girl horrific instructions, which she must enact. The weirdness of it all certainly worked in its favour for me, though I can’t say it was a favourite.
A few other segments left me mostly unimpressed. Lex Ortega’s Lo Que Importa Es Lo De Adentro almost makes a neat comment about the exploitation of the impoverished, but its central homeless character is so much of a pantomimic villain that all subtlety is lost. Gigi Saul Guerrero’s Dia de los Muertos is entertaining but again feels a little bit under-developed in terms of the commentary it seems to want to offer. Both Guerrero and Ortega’s segments feel like they might have benefitted from being a little bit longer, to allow for a bit more time for world-building. Perhaps one of the most disappointing segments was Jorge Michel ‘We Are What We Are’ Grau’s Muñecas, which, although well-made, was just a bit too standard to be interesting.
My least favourite segment, which I can’t help but feel might actually be a favourite for many, was Isaac Ezban’s La Cosa Mas Preciada. Admittedly it features great creature effects work, and I presume the little goblin creatures are a specifically Mexican monster, however, the segment simply left me with a bad taste in my mouth (and if you’ve seen the film, please know that’s not an intentional pun). The set-up leads to, for me, an extremely tasteless and played for laughs ordeal, that even played straight might have been difficult to execute effectively. I’m particularly glad I didn’t see this film or section with BIFFF’s vocal and often tasteless audience.
Overall, Mexico Barbaro makes for interesting viewing, mainly thanks to the cultural specificity of the films. It’s an extremely mixed bag, as we might expect from a portmanteau film, but the range of quality varies in terms of the filmmaking as much as the content of each segment. Regardless, I’m extremely glad to have seen it, and I hope it does have opportunity to widely showcase the talent involved.