A trampoline with two “Charolastras” watching the clouds. Mexico: a film brand in the world? Or part of a global brand in an industry that strangles what doesn’t belong to it. Perhaps, Iñárritu and Del Toro were the two young men in that battered car looking for the “Boca del Cielo” beach.
For those of my generation, Mexican cinema has been a real treat, those of us who saw the silver masked man fight with mummies and hordes of sensual vampires; the endless journey of cinema is one of those carousels you don’t want to disembark from.
Mexico, a power of Latin American and world cinema? Deciding on “good cinema” and “not so good cinema” became an exact science, there are plenty of academies and associations that are in charge of qualifying what is produced from the so-called seventh art. The generation of Mexican directors that has transformed desire into custom, yes, awards and good reviews of productions related to at least one pair of Mexican directors have become normal. We have even gone from comparing ourselves with protagonists from other countries and a competition has been created between the Mexican, there is an atmosphere in which there seems to be only competition between countrymen, every year we go expectantly to the seats of the cinemas or we comfortably settle in the armchairs of our homes before the offers of the streaming regarding “Mexican cinema”. Although it is true, the parallel success between the box office and the awards is connected with new associations between directors and producers, this sum of resources has produced in recent years countless awards assumed as success of the Mexican.
Two personal brands that never cease to amaze year after year, the brand Iñárritu and Del Toro. Two bastions of what is Mexican and what is well done. The fiction and descriptive power of Guillermo Del Toro, and the anthropological journeys in the stories told by Alejandro González Iñárritu are two of the waits every one or two years. The narrative of a poet like Silverio Gama in Iñárritu’s latest production could be this director’s debut, a work in which it was impossible to separate the faces of Bardo and ours bouncing off the mirror.