{"id":1201,"date":"2015-08-17T08:57:30","date_gmt":"2015-08-17T08:57:30","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/reframe.sussex.ac.uk\/mediatico\/?p=1201"},"modified":"2015-08-17T09:13:40","modified_gmt":"2015-08-17T09:13:40","slug":"15-great-post-1988-mexican-films-you-have-not-seen-but-definitely-should","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/reframe.sussex.ac.uk\/mediatico\/2015\/08\/17\/15-great-post-1988-mexican-films-you-have-not-seen-but-definitely-should\/","title":{"rendered":"15 Great Post-1988 Mexican Films You Have Not Seen But Definitely Should"},"content":{"rendered":"

and 20 other films to watch<\/strong><\/h3>\n

Today Mediatico presents a post by new contributor Ignacio M. Sanchez Prado<\/a>. S\u00e1nchez Prado is an Associate Professor of Spanish and Latin American Studies at Washington University in Saint Louis. He is the author of five books, including\u00a0<\/em>Screening Neoliberalism\u00a0<\/em>Transforming Mexican Cinema 1988-2014<\/a> (Vanderbilt University Press, 2014), <\/em>Naciones intelectuales<\/a>\u00a0<\/i><\/span>(Purdue Studies in Romance Literatures)<\/span>,<\/span> which won the 2010 Latin American Studies Association Mexico Section Book Award in the Humanities\u00a0<\/span>a<\/em>nd of over fifty articles on Mexican literature and cinema.<\/em>\u00a0\u00a0<\/b><\/p>\n

Ever since the late 1980s, Mexican cinema has undergone at least three rebirths. In the late 1980s and early 1990s, a generation of now-famous directors (Carlos Carrera, Mar\u00eda Novaro, Alfonso Cuar\u00f3n and Guillermo del Toro, among many others) produced bold and innovative films that redefined the industry and reconstructed its reputation after the so-called \u201ccrisis\u201d of the 1980s \u2013a decade that needs revision beyond this overblown term. After the production hiatus that resulted from the 1994 economic crisis, a second rebirth took place in the late 1990s and early 2000s, as directors like Cuar\u00f3n and Alejandro Gonz\u00e1lez I\u00f1\u00e1rritu conquered the international market while others, most notably Antonio Serrano, Luis Estrada and Fernando Sari\u00f1ana, constructed an unexpectedly viable domestic market with their films. And, in the past three years, a third rebirth has taken place, both at the Festival level (where directors like Amat Escalante, Carlos Reygadas, Michel Franco and Gerardo Naranjo have earned tremendous recognition) and in the commercial market (where juggernauts like No se aceptan devoluciones\u00a0<\/em>and Nosotros los nobles <\/em>defied the conventional wisdom about Mexican film). It is hard to remember, however, that Mexican cinema produces a considerable amount of films, and that many of those works are unable to reach an audience that match the quality of their efforts, given the fact that a country that subsidizes a sizable production only grants 7 to 10 percent of its screens to domestic production. For many films of great quality and interest, this paradox means that they reach a very limited number of spectators or sometimes disappear into oblivion. In consequence, I believe that one of the great challenges facing critics and scholars of Mexican cinema is to contribute to diversifying the canon of Mexican film shaped by commercial and festival success and introduce in the conversation films that may have faded too son into oblivion, regardless of positive, yet ephemeral, reception during their release. In the spirit of this, I want to offer the following list of great Mexican films that do not register much in the memory of spectators and critics. The films listed here, many of them at least, have detractors, but I am of the belief that they are unfairly dismissed sometimes due to small flaws averblown under the lens of the generalized prejudice many critics and spectators have against Mexican films. I constrain myself to the post-1988 period because that is the one I have researched, but I am pretty sure that if one started this exercise from the 1960s onwards (when Mexican cinema no longer enjoyed the shine of the Golden Age), many such films would emerge. In an era where the listicle has proliferated as a critical genre, this is not a new exercise. It has been done elsewhere. For instance, a critic of the magazine Replicante<\/em> did a list of 15 films of the 2000s<\/a> that he considered great, but nobody else saw. I offer a larger period of films than other lists, and I would definitely like for this exercise to multiply itself on the internet. In addition, I offer this not as a definitive list, but as a highly personal selection that is both debatable and amendable, as it is based on personal taste and on the subjective limit of what I have been able to see myself. In fact, I have excluded documentaries, a genre about which I know much less, and short films, which are nearly impossible to see systematically unless one has steady access to archives and film festivals. Besides these criteria, and the limits of my taste and my ability to see films, I added one more: that the film is available in DVD format, as it would be futile to recommend a film that would require excessive archival archeology to be seen. Some of the films are on YouTube, but I do not link them here as I suspect that they are bootlegs and, as much as I have to use that resource for research, I do not think it is appropriate or legal to link them in an article. For the list offered here, I comment on my fifteen favorites at length and I offer a supplemental list of twenty films that, in my opinion, definitely merit watching.<\/p>\n

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  1. Ciudad de ciegos (Alberto Cort\u00e9s, 1990)
    \n<\/strong>Even though I had owned this DVD for years, I just recently watched it in Mexico\u2019s Canal 22. This film is an omnibus of sorts, as it tells ten different stories (from different writers but all directed by Cort\u00e9s) all centered in the same apartment in Mexico City\u2019s Colonia Condesa. It is a condensed masterpiece, shot in a tone that balances the grittiness of 1980s social dramas with a poetic tone that shines in scenes such as the one excerpted in the video below. Released in the same period as blockbusters like Como agua para chocolate <\/em>and S\u00f3lo con tu pareja<\/em>, this film has been forgotten as part of the first neoliberal rebirth, but it is truly a superior piece of work. The amount of talent that went into this film is considerable. Cort\u00e9s is one of Mexico\u2019s most fascinating and underrated independent directors, and his work includes other films worth watching like Amor en la vuelta de la esquina<\/em> (1986), Violeta <\/em>(1997) and Coraz\u00f3n del tiempo <\/em>(2009). The writing credits include highly respected authors like Jos\u00e9 Agust\u00edn, Hermann Bellinghausen, Paz Alicia Garciadiego and Silvia Tomasa Rivera. The cinematographer, Carlos Marcovich would go on to shoot some of the most iconic films in the 1990s, and then to direct his own, highly praised documentary, Who the Hell is Juliette?<\/em> (1997). And, for the trivia lovers, the actors include not only some of the best Mexican performers of that generation (Gabriela Roel, Claudia Ram\u00edrez, Claudette Maill\u00e9), but also members of three of Mexico\u2019s most iconic rock bands: Santa Sabina, Caifanes and Maldita Vecindad. This aggregate of talent results in one of the most intimate, memorable and, sadly, forgotten masterpieces produced in Mexico, and shows a variety of sophisticated urban filmmaking that can be considered the missing link between 1960s classics like Los caifanes<\/em> and the sophisticated urban cinema of the 2000s<\/li>\n<\/ol>\n