18-11-2004
Wow. So I'm watching Y Tu Mama Tambien, directed by Alfonso Cuaron, written by Cuaron and who I assume to be his brother, and I'm thinking, "Whoa, this is balls-deep coverage of the sexual recreation among the young elite of the Mexican ruling class and the immediate subclass."
If you've eyeballed any of the trailers, you know it's one of those films that's supposed to be about "sexual discovery," and I guess it is. That part (what some would tag the crux) is kind of interesting, because the sex between young men and older women is fairly explicit and is filmed utterly unapologetically. (don't think a project like this could find its footing in a puritanical country like America) What was really of interest to me was not the rite of passage for these young men, but the writing on the wall. But more on that later.
The young men here are two privileged, identifiably Spanish Mexican lads on the verge of college life. Before the plot kicks into "high gear," we get to see a cavalcade of lazy summer days involving such frolicry as playful ass slapping, shower fun, poolside circle jerks and other displays of casual homoerotocism that would shake the pillars of Homophobe Heaven. These two characters are not gay, nor are we meant to think they are; but understand that the casual treatment of the aforementioned intimacy wouldn't fly with the American Pie crowd. In the world of films like that, when two straight, male characters find them selves in a moment that's even slightly homoerotic, it must always be comical, where the realization of the gayness is followed by a "humorous" urgency to remove themselves from the situation and reaffirm their heterosexuality. Props to Alfonso and his brother for giving us something a little different from what we'd expect.
On a small side note: one of the main characters is called "Tenoch," an Aztec name, purportedly in tribute to them. I couldn't help but notice that his only connection to that great civilization is his status as a member of a racially exclusive ruling party that actively oppresses its descendants, the native inhabitants of Mexico.
The plot gets rolling when "Tenoch" and the other guy (sorry, didn't catch his friends name) are chilling at a political gathering in honor of some ruling-class family friends that have ties to some serious ruling-class shit. (we're lead to believe that this gathering was attended by Vicente Fox) They socialize with an older, sexy woman from Madrid who it turns out is a woman from their past. She last remembers them playing with action figures. "Tenoch" and his buddy, who want very badly to get their rocks off, learn she will be in town for a little while, and suggest that the three of them go on a road trip to find a mythical, clean beach that may or may not exist. Clean beaches must be what myths are made of in Mexico.
The sexual fixation of "Tenoch" and the other guy will be familiar to most men at and beyond their age. Tenoch and his friend are first and foremost dudes, dudes on the hunt for booty. By the end of the film, and on review of his filmography, I'm not sure if writer/director Cuaron shares precisely the same object of desire as his characters. Alfonso gives enough attention to filming gratuitously long shots of college-bound Spanish boys swimming in the nude, and I'm not even blaming him. Nor am I passing judgement. Hey, the man has good taste. I even found myself agreeing with Mexico's unique take on the caste system, if it can filter sexy thangs like those out of the population at large.
I sure as hell don't know where Alfonso's coming from (and I'm not going to do the research, sorry), and I wasn't sure where he was trying to go with this movie. It's just that the whitewashed version of Mexico he's showing us is a bit out of sync with the "signals" I've personally been getting from south of the border. I think Mexico is a fascinating subject for foreigners in an exploratory mood, but this film makes for anything but the cautionary tale it should be as good-looking "Tenoch" and his none-too-shabby cohorts delve into shantytown and beyond. They tool around city and rural areas looking very wealthy in sharp contrast to the darker-skinned middle and lower classes that make up the bulk of the populace, but, alas, no ill wind ever blows. Right. This may be the Mexico Alfonso knows, but it certainly wasn't the Mexico some friends of mine found when they decided to travel from Matamoros to the Districo Federal. But ask me about that some other time.
Despite missing the mark as an entirely realistic portrayal of what one should expect from a Mexican road trip, Y Tu Mama Tambien works wonders as a piece of entertainment.
And, yes, I know that this is a film made in Mexico, by a Mexican, and for Mexicans. I know that it wasn't meant to serve as a travelogue for American tourists. So don't even e-mail me about that bullshit.
