El Vigilante (The Night Guard): Reviews from the 2017 Curaçao Film Festival #CIFFR

El Vigilante, Diego Ros, 2016

Friday, April 7th, 2017, 13:30

This was one of the three Mexican films in the festival. I loved it, but several other people I spoke to (including Cor, my partner) found it a bit confusing. I hadn't realized it until they mentioned it: this film is uniquely Mexican in the sense that it portrays our idiosyncracy beautifully—our weird sense of loyalty, our mistrust of authority, our ties to family, our deference to employers—to the point where the plot hinges on it. So, if you're not Mexican, you'll probably walk away scratching your head a bit. But why didn't he just tell the truth from the beginning? Would've solved everything.

That said, as a thriller it has some very powerful moments. The cinematography is masterful, Buñuel-esque, using the construction site, the setting of the story, to full advantage. The acting, even from minor or incidental characters, is natural and fully believable. The film, director Diego Ros's debut, won Best Film in the Los Angeles Film Festival last year, as well as Best Film and Best Actor in the Morelia festival in 2016, so I'm evidently not alone in praising it.

If you like thrillers, especially of the psychological kind, you may want to give this one a try.

(Sorry about the trailer; couldn't find one with English subtitles. But you can perhaps gain a bit of insight of what I meant about the cinematography.)

The #WATWB September Edition: On Earthquakes and the Soul of a Nation (#FuerzaMéxico)

Every year on the 19th of September, Mexico City commemorates the anniversary of the 1985 earthquake that leveled the city, and honors those who perished, those who survived, and—perhaps most especially—the millions who took part, over days and weeks and even months, in the search and rescue efforts to find the missing and, later, to rebuild not just the city but the lives devastated by those three minutes the earth shook.

Tlatelolco (Mexico City), 1985

The commemoration includes, every year, an evacuation drill that takes place at 11:00 am. The alarms of the early-warning system sound, and every building in the city empties, people stand in groups in the street until they're given the all-clear, and then everyone mills back up into their offices and cubicles to wait for the evacuation assessment. How fast did we do it? Where did we screw up? What can we do to make it faster, safer, better?

This year, when the alarms sounded again at just past 1:15pm, most people thought it was another drill. Or a malfunction.

It wasn't.

Elections in Mexico this Sunday. Key Elections.

This coming Sunday, June 4th, there will be elections in Mexico. Not presidential; only three states will be voting for new governors (and a fourth will be electing some 200 mayors). But these elections — the results in one state in particular — will shape the future of Mexico, for at least the next decade.

Elections for mayor are happening in the state of Veracruz, and elections for governor in Nayarit, Coahuila, and the state of Mexico. Yes, we have a state called after the country; someone must've run out of naming ideas... No, not really. It's more like the country is named after the state—or, actually, the city. In brief, when the Spanish conquered this land they'd call La Nueva España (New Spain, stretching from Nicaragua all the way up to British Columbia), they divided it into reinos, which translates literally as 'kingdoms' but it's in practice more like provinces, and one of these provinces, because it included the Mexica capital of Mexico-Tenochtitlan (now rather in ruins), was named México. After independence from Spain came about and Mexico City was proclaimed the capital of this brand-new nation (1824), the city separated from the state into the Distrito Federal, DF for short (kind of like Washington, DC ). And so we ended up with both a city and a state (and a country) named México.

La Nueva España, circa 1821. At one point, the territory also included Cuba and the Philippines.

Back to the present. As I write (and as you read), the electoral process is going on in the state of México—and it promises to be one of the dirtiest ever. Which, if you know anything about Mexican elections, you know that's saying a lot. For as long as I can remember, and as long as my parents can remember, elections in México have always been 'arranged'. We all knew upfront who the new president would be, who the new governors, mayors, members of parliament, all of them, simply by virtue of the party they belonged to. The PRI held on to its dictatorship hand-me-down rule for 70 years by becoming masters of electoral fraud—and, of course, this resulted in a growing cynical defeatism in the population, which played right into their hands.

#BoTB — Raining Coffee

I'm late to the party, I know... I apologize. I was on a deadline to deliver a short story, and I finally managed to send it in just a little while ago—two days late... ooops. So, with the "job" taken care of, let's hear some music!

This is one of those alternative Battles that sometimes find their way in. The song is Ojalá Que Llueva Café, by Juan Luis Guerra (1989), and we're pitting that original against a cover by an off-the-beaten-path band from Mexico called Café Tacuba (officially spelled Tacvba, the old Castilian way).

#ImProudToBeMexican

The Mexico Trip (Part 2)

(Continued from Part 1)

The Plan was as follows:

- Fly out of Mexico City at 8 am, get into Miami at 11 am.
- Seven-hour layover in Miami. (I had a really great book to look forward to.)
- Leave Miami at 6:30 pm, get into Curaçao at 10 pm.

Inconvenient, with that incredibly long layover, but no more so than I'm used to.

And it all went according to plan. Until the last part. And it ended with me not sleeping (or changing clothes, eww) for over 48 hours.

#BoTB Results: The Battle of the Genres (Ranchera vs Norteño)

It really did look like a slam-dunk there for a bit... Pepe Aguilar was keeping the Norteño guys down and wouldn't let them up for even a wild swing. And then there was hope... The band got in a couple of good punches, Pepe faltered—but, in the end, it just wasn't enough.

The winner: Pepe Aguilar

Pepe Aguilar (9)

Hilary

Lee

Janie

Michele

Cherdo

Mike

Stephen

Jeffrey

Cathy

Poder del Norte (6)

Dixie

Donna

Madilyn

John

Robin

FAE

My vote? Dang... I forgot about that. Not that it would make a shred of difference either way... This is a hard one. The Aguilar version is charged with emotional context for me. Norteño music, in general, is not (again, for me). But if I stick to this which cantina would you rule I seem to have imposed on this battle, then the answer is the Poder del Norte dudes. So. Final tally is Aguilar with 9 votes, and the band guys with 7.

Not bad for what looked like a shut-out, eh?

They say it's impossible to please everyone all of the time, but—being the contrary soul I am—I'm still going to try. Here's Pepe Aguilar, plus daughter and son, singing a Norteño potpourri. On MTV Unplugged, no less.

Happy weekend, y'all!

(I'll be back tomorrow with Part II of the Mexico trip... Just haven't had time to finish that one. And on Monday, if you're in the neighborhood, I'll be up at Yolanda Renee's blog talking about indie presses, and I'd love it if you came by to say hi. No, seriously, I would.)

#BoTB: Por Mujeres Como Tú (aka The Mexican Chauvinist Anthem)

Welcome to another Battle of The Bands! Get your sombreros and your bottle of tequila, because it doesn't get any more Mexican than this.

Us Mexicans, we take the sombrero very seriously.

When I say serenade, what's the image that comes first into your head?

a) Moonlit night, starry-eyed Juliet on her balcony, starry-eyed Romeo below singing sweet songs of everlasting love with a soulful guitar?

b) A broken-hearted drunk with his staggering-drunk buddies shouting up abuse at an empty balcony?

A, right? Of course. That's the image perpetuated by Tom & Jerry and black & white movies of the 1940's. And, in truth, it can be like that.

The Mexico Trip (The Gory Details)

Divi-Divi airlines. (No, these don't fly to Miami.)

I've mentioned before that traveling from Curaçao is never a simple matter... It can be, if you're going to Caracas or Bogotá. Or Miami. Or Amsterdam. Or Dominican Republic. Or Bonaire. Or St. Maarten. Or Aruba. Or, nowadays—thank you, JetBlue!—New York City.

But not Mexico.

To the point that once I received an itinerary from a travel agent helping me with my trip (this was years ago, before online booking caught on) suggesting that I travel from Curaçao—in the Caribbean—to Mexico—North America—via Charles de Gaulle. Yeah. The Paris airport. You know. Paris, Europe.

(That's a good story. Remind me to tell it to you some day.)

Driving Licenses: Mexico vs. Curaçao (+ The Metaphor of Prison, c/o @ArleeBird )

So. The Mexico trip. Man, that was a fiasco. I mean, it's not easy to travel anywhere from Curaçao. Even direct flights come with delays and cancellations and whatnot. But I've never had as much trouble going to and from Mexico as this time. I'm even down with a weird cold/flu virus since Sunday—and I blame the night I spent on the carpet at the Miami airport.

12:30 am Saturday morning, relaxing with a guilty-pleasure novel on the comfy carpet at MIA International.

Before I go into the gory details, let me tell you I'm over at Tossing It Out today, care of blogosphere's marvelous Arlee Bird, talking about prisons: of the mind, the soul, and the flesh. It's the latest stop for the MIRACLE tour in blogs, after a celebration of the book's quirkiness over at Corinne Rodrigues's place last week, and then the crazy author vs character interview argument that ended with me apologizing and Luis Villalobos in maudlin tears over at The Doglady's Den this past Monday.

#BoTB Results: La Llorona (Chabela Vargas vs. Lila Downs)

When I thought up this battle, back at the beginning of October when everyone was talking about Halloween, I made what turned out to be some pretty inexact predictions:

Prediction No. 1 (and I almost didn't do this Battle because of it):
Everyone—okay, at least the great majority of BoTB-ers—is going to hate this Battle.

Reality: not only didn't you guys hate it, but even loved it (with a few exceptions, which make the "Love It" ones all the more believable).

Prediction No. 2 
Sure, I'll be in Mexico Nov. 1, but my mom's place has internet... Nothing to worry about.

Reality: Internet sucks in Mexico. Not only is public wi-fi a rarity, but even in places where you get a password (usually one of those interminable 0ES45J2100KM5R443BE codes, impossible not to mess up), some devices just won't connect. Either the signal is not strong enough, or the router is set up with some sort of firewall that keeps out certain devices (my MacBook always has problems), or, when I did connect, YouTube videos took forever to load, and then refused to play.


Prediction No. 3
Lila's going to leave Chabela in the dirt.

#BoTB — Día de Muertos special: Llorona

The Mexican fascination — some would say 'obsession' — with death dates back to before the European encounter. Most pre-Columbine civilizations had beliefs based on the concept of duality (twins, for instance, were considered sacred, as were homosexuals and hermaphrodites in many of these cultures)... And nothing embodies the essence of duality like life and death.

Mictlantecuhtli, god of the underworld (or Mictlan). Sculpted in raw clay in life size. Found in a building dedicated to the cult of death at El Zapotal, La Mixtequilla, in the Mexican state of Veracruz.

Photo: Carlos Blanco / Raíces / Arqueología Mexicana

Patricia... And the disaster it promises

This is Patricia. As seen from the space station. Somewhere under there is Mexico.

She made landfall this evening at around 6:00 pm, as a category 5 hurricane (190+ mph winds), on the southwest coast of Mexico (Manzanillo, Puerto Vallarta). Its eye was 10 km (6 miles) across... Very small, very dangerous.

Since landfall, it has already weakened to a category 4... But the danger is a long way from being over. It's not about the record-breaking ocean surge, or those 200+ kilometer-per-hour winds. The main concern is rain.

In 48 hours, the area could receive 40% of its yearly rainfall.

And then there's that cold front coming from the north. Which will barrel right onto Patricia as she moves inland.

By all calculations, this is going to be a major, horrible disaster. Because once this monster gets past the coastline, it's going to slam into a huge mountain range (the Sierra Madre Occidental). There will be landslides. There will be floods. There will be whole towns swallowed by mud.

So here's the thing. Mexico appreciates your prayers, and your light- and love-sending. Really, they do. But if you're of the more—uhm, practical kind of mind, please do prepare to help in more realistic ways: contact relief organizations and animal shelters (why is it no one thinks of the animals when cataclysm hits?); contact your local Red Cross and donate blood and whatever supplies you can; organize your community to collect water and non-perishables that can be forwarded to the affected communities; contact authorities to inquire about (and maybe organize) relief actions...

The world is a village. We need each other. Over the coming weeks (hopefully not months), Mexico will need you.

Easy ways to help:

Humane Society International (help for animal victims)

Donations to Red Cross Mexico

AZ Central tells you how to help Patricia victims

CNN's list of sites for Patricia relief

And, on behalf of all Mexico, muchísimas gracias.

#BoTB September 15: VIVA MEXICO!

Today is Mexico's 205th birthday. On the night of September 15th, 1810, a priest by the name of Miguel Hidalgo y Costilla called the townspeople of Dolores to arms — and thus began the war for independence from Spain (perhaps not what the Catholic priest intended, but that's a bone for another post).

Traditionally, on the night of Sept. 15th, the president of Mexico reenacts the Grito de Dolores (the "cry of Dolores", aka Mr. Hidalgo's rebel yell) from the presidential balcony in Mexico City. Traditionally, today is Mexico's biggest celebration (Cinco de Mayo, you might be surprised to know, is only a bank holiday for us Mexicans). Traditionally, there's all-you-can-eat mole, all-you-can-listen-to Mariachi; fireworks all night, dancing the Mexican zapateado, and lots and lots of tequila and mezcal (preferrably before the zapateado, seeing as quantity is directly proportional to improvement in dancing style).

Case in point: these good people have consumed a substantial amount of tequila.
Look at those smiles.

This year, however, celebrations will be muted.

September 15th is the day when us Mexicans do our best to remind ourselves the country is more than the politicians and drug lords that run the country; more than the corruption that rules every aspect of life; that we come from a tradition so rich in culture and diversity that it's produced some of the world's most renowned art — painting, sculpture, cinema, weaving, architecture, ceramics, gastronomy... and, of course, music.

This year, Mexico has more to mourn than to celebrate. Perhaps that is a good thing; perhaps, finally, it is the hour for reckoning.  Corruption is rampant in Mexico; more so than ever before. Impunity at all levels is the rule of law. The law itself has become an object of plutocracy... a laughingstock, really. This year it's hard to remember the good stuff. But... how can we save Mexico unless we keep in mind what it is we're saving?

In that spirit, my song for the Battle of the Bands today is a classic of Mexican popular music, one of Mexico's unofficial anthems: El Rey. This is the cantina song par excellence. Every Mexican knows the words (lyrics at the end of the post, along with translation); as a matter of fact, if you don't know the words, you're not Mexican.

First up: the original version by singer/songwriter José Alfredo Jiménez:

The would-be contender is Mexican band Maná, who's single-handedly spread (their version of) Mexican culture way farther, and with way better effectiveness, than the best Mexican diplomats.

I'm really curious to see how the voting turns out for this one, since this face-off is a matter of contention for most Mexicans. I'm hoping that, being that most of this blog's readers are not Mexican, we might get an objective assessment for a change :)

Other awesome battles being fought at the links below — visit them and vote, and join the BoTB fun!

STMcC Presents 'Battle of The Bands'

Far Away Series

Debbie D. ("Doglady")

Holli's Hoots and Hollers

Your Daily Dose

Alex Cavanaugh

Tossing It Out

Mike's Ramblings

Jingle Jangle Jungle

Curious as a Cathy

Cherdo on the Flipside

The Sound of One Hand Typing

Women: We Shall Overcome

J. A. Scott

Book Lover

Angels Bark

dcrelief ~ Battle of The Bands

NovelBrews

Thanks so much for reading, listening, and voting! I'll post the results next Monday 21st. In the meantime, have an awesome week — and VIVA MEXICO!

El Rey lyrics (English in italics):

Yo sé bien que estoy afuera 

I know only too well I'm out

Pero el día que yo me muera

But the day that I die

Sé que tendrás que llorar

I know you're going to cry

(Llorar y llorar...)

(Cry and cry...)

Dirás que no me quisiste

You'll say you didn't love me

Pero vas a estar muy triste

But you're going to be devastated

Y así te vas a quedar

And that's how you're going to stay

Con dinero y sin dinero

With money or without

Hago siempre lo que quiero

I do always as I please

Y mi palabra es la ley!

And my word is law

No tengo trono ni reina

I have no throne or queen

Ni nadie que me comprenda

Or anyone that understands me

Pero sigo siendo el rey

But I'm still the king

Una piedra en el camino

A stone on the path

Me enseñó que mi destino

Taught me that my destiny

Era rodar y rodar

Is to roll and roll

(Rodar y rodar...)

(Roll and roll)

Después me dijo un arriero

Later a laborer told me

Que no hay que llegar primero

That it's not about arriving first

Pero hay que saber llegar

But about knowing how to arrive

Con dinero y sin dinero

With money or without

Hago siempre lo que quiero

I do always as I please

Y mi palabra es la ley!

And my word is law

No tengo trono ni reina

I have no throne or queen

Ni nadie que me comprenda

Or anyone that understands me

Pero sigo siendo el rey

But I'm still the king

Mexico is a proud nation today

At the Oscars last night, back-to-back Mexicans stepped up to the stage to receive little gold men. Emmanuel Lubezki won Best Photography for Birdman, and Alejandro González Iñarritu, the same film's director, won Best Original Screenplay, Best Director, and Best Movie.

On his third visit to the awards stage, for Best Movie, Iñarritu dedicated the award to the Mexican people: to those living in Mexico, he said he hoped we'd be able to build the kind of government we deserve, and to those living in the US, those of the newest generation of immigrants, he wished that they be treated with the same respect and recognition that others before them found in "this nation of immigrants."

Bravo, señores. You make us all proud.

The whole thing, from envelope opening (by Sean Penn, whose prelude to announcing the winner is priceless) and all of Iñarritu's speech, including a cute intermission by Michael Keaton, below. (Or you can just watch Iñarritu's bit about Mexico and Mexicans.)

And the Birdman trailer. Just because it's so fucking awesome.

The Meaning of Cuernavaca

The city of memory, the city of nostalgia, of everything that's been lost, and found, forgotten, remembered.

We--my father, my mother, and I--moved from Mexico City to Cuernavaca in December 1975, when I was two months shy of three years old. I have fragmented memories of that December. For instance, walking around the pool wearing corduroy pants and a woolen sweater (yes, winters in the central altiplano of México can be cold), but my parents were wearing swimming suits, and I remember remarking on that, briefly, internally.

View of the house I grew up in, from the carport. The deep end of the pool is just off-frame to the right.
In the back you can see half of the sandbox I played in for hours, the tree where I had my treehouse
(long gone, rotted or something, before this photo was made), and a corner of the tennis court
(you have to look hard).
My father made this photo five months before he died.

A brief intro to my life in #Mexico

Visitors to this blog might wonder why Derain's "Bathers" get place of honor on the header of this blog. What do three nude women have to do with Quiet Laughter? For those familiar with fauvism, the connection might seem even more bizarre--or, maybe, not.

Neither the nude women, or fauvism--or even Derain--is the connection. This is a photo of the living room in the house where I grew up in. I just took it today. That painting--a copy, obviously--has been hanging in that spot for as long as I can remember--and we moved into this house when I was three. That painting--not even the original, but the copy--symbolizes this house for me, and everything in it: the memories, the drama, the fun times, the losses, the safe haven, the letting go. That painting is, at a profoundly personal level, my history.

One day, it--like me--will have to leave Cuernavaca (Mexico) behind and move to Curaçao.

We'll have to build it a special wall, though.

A whole month off...

Where did May go?
(Image credit)

May flew by and--not a single post. Oops.

Yes, the A-to-Z took a lot out of me this year. Never again with more than one blog, never again in the middle of another project...

'S a matter of fact, maybe never again. Or maybe just not next year. It would be nice to just spectate for once. Get to visit blogs instead of stressing over my own posts or about not keeping up with the lovely comments y'all leave here. Which I love, and which I'll miss...

Well. We'll see. I love being a part of the A-to-Z, but I feel I miss out a lot. Yes, pre-writing is the key. (Why the hell is it so hard to follow one's own advice?) If I'm able to get at least half the post prewritten by January, when the sign-up list opens, maybe--maybe--I'll consider having another go. Right now I'm simply too exhausted to consider it.

What's been happening here over the last 30 days? Well, my laptop broke down mid-March. (The fact I did the A-to-Z on a borrowed computer might've contributed to the aforementioned exhaustion.) No, it's not fixed yet. It's a 2007 MacBook, and one of the fans is shot--but Apple doesn't manufacture it anymore, which means the pseudo Apple store here can't order it. They told me it's available on eBay or similars, but they've failed to give me (in spite of numerous calls to remind them) the specifications on what, exactly, I need to order.

Perhaps a new laptop is the solution. Sadly, seeing as I'm a starving artist (ahem) with a copious family of dogs who cannot starve, that solution isn't much of a solution at all.

Then the washing machine broke down. And then my car broke down.

This sounds like the beginning of a bad joke.

I'm done whining, though. I have this awesome borrowed laptop (borrowed from an even awesomer person--thank you, Cor!) to keep me connected to the world and--most importantly--to keep writing. The washing machine couldn't be fixed, so said Awesomer Person bought a new, supersonic and super quiet, one (thank you, Cor!)--and, as an added brushstroke of the Universe's goodwill, the delivery guys even took the old one away. And my car has been fixed. It was expensive, and it's not perfect (yet), but it drives. (Thank you again, Cor!)

It's possible the dogs might've missed the car more than I did. Which is saying a lot.

Awkword Paper Cut

Another marvelous thing that happened in May: I was featured all month on Awkword Paper Cut, in the Writers on Writing section, along with two other (pretty fantastic) writers to talk about Mexico and why we writers must (sometimes) leave our countries to find our writing. Awkword Paper Cut is a beautiful literary journal, and the Writers on Writing pieces provide powerful inspiration--as well as much-needed diversification--every month. Bookmark them, visit often, and enjoy.

2014 A Year In Stories
A 12-vol anthology
published by Pure Slush Books

And then there's the Pure Slush 2014 A Year In Stories project. Yesterday was the deadline to deliver all 12 stories in our cycles. I've delivered 9, have #10 in an almost-workable draft.

(Today, by the way, my June story is happening. Want to read it? You can, for free. It's part of the Amazon preview for the book. Just click on the Look Inside link and... enjoy. If you do like it, please remember I'm the ugly duckling among these swans of writers. Their stories are so worth your time. And money.)

As of last count, there's 315 stories (out of 365) delivered and approved for print. The July volume is now out, too, and volumes January through May have a 20% discount on Lulu.com.

Aaaaaaand... The fantastic Susan Tepper, another of the magnificent 2014 authors, has snagged a reading date for the project at the KGB Bar in New York's East Village. Talk about illustrious venues! We'll be there on Wednesday November 5th--so if you're in the NYC area, it would be a super treat if you stopped by.


All right. You're all caught up. Now it's my turn to catch up with you.

Florence Cassez, Freed

Ms. Florence Cassez, the French girl accused, incarcerated, found guilty, and sentenced to 60 years in prison in Mexico for kidnapping, was freed on Wednesday. Her appeal to the Supreme Court resulted in a three-to-two vote in favor of setting her free. The Supreme Court ruled Cassez's rights had been violated, due process had not been observed, and chére Florence is entitled to a new trial.

And Mexico has gone batshit over this. All over Facebook I see posts to the effect of "Mexican justice makes me sick," or "F*cking murderess, rot in hell," or "Hero welcome in France for a murdering kidnapper--WTF???"

The Do-Over 'Fest: Progress

Originally posted on April 18 this year, for the A to Z Challenge: Progress. Brought to you via the Deja Vu Blogfest, courtesy of DL Hammons at Cruising Altitude 2.0. Thanks, DL!

Tarahumaran women in the
Chihuahua mountains.

Up in the Mexican Sierra that scars the country from North to South (same tectonic origin as the Rockies), there are a few communities left that live the way they have for hundreds of years, maybe thousands. No electricity, no plastics, no pop culture.

Once in a while, medical missions make their way up the craggy paths and provide basic care--vaccines for children, prenatal controls, setting bones, treating infections. But most of these communities have, at best, minimal involvement with the modern world.