Reviews

"La Otra Conquista" dismantles all fabricated tales indoctrinated into the minds of modern Mexican society about supposedly subhuman Indian people eager to submit to the whims of Spanish settlers, and exposes what instead was a violent infiltration of colonizers into the country.

This historical misconception mirrors the one perpetuated in the United States with the story of "Thanksgiving". American children rest assured that Indians and English settlers were nice little friends who hopped together across the prairie while holding hands, until they are old enough to learn English settlers actually raped, killed and stole from American Indians.

Regardless of its cultural significance, Salvador Carrasco faced strong opposition by the Mexican government against the release of this film, which stunted its funding and production for seven years. The Mexican government insisted the film's blunt exposure of the injustices faced by the Aztec people at the hands of the Spaniards was "inaccurate", and could potentially erode the country's perception of their heritage.

As controversial as it may sound, the Mexican government's negation of the violence that occurred during the colonization of Mexico arguably parallels the negation of the Holocaust ─ both were massive genocides of people and their cultures at the hands of those who deemed them inferior for no valid reason.

However, this film serves as voice for the ancestors of direct descendants to the Aztec tribe, who still represent a large portion of the Mexican population today. The proof is in the overwhelmingly positive response by these audiences who flocked to theaters, making it the country's highest grossing film at the time.

This film is a period piece that excels aesthetically, and emotionally. It is a cultural gem, not just for Mexicans, but for any individual willing to learn from and understand the hardships endured by these people from a human perspective.

"Time of the Gypsies" is an unremarkable film with artificial performances that will only hold weight if you are moved by glycerin tears. While the movie does have some interesting scenes, it comes across as a premature draft of what could have been a superior film. This directorial neglect is best exemplified by the diligent detail that is placed in the river scene during Act 1, contrasted by the poorly rushed time lapses throughout the rest of the story ─ particularly a careless crunch of 4 years into 30 seconds during Act 3.

However, given the fact the film falls into the category of "Magical Realism", it is debatable that these irrational loops need no justification within the realm of the story. But considering that the director takes full advantage of the unlimited freedom these "magical" elements provide, perhaps it would benefit him to pay attention to the basic details that might assist the "realism" elements as well.

For those seeking to broaden their film literacy, this movie is worth watching for its peculiar characters alone (Ahmed's toddler dressed in his miniature fur coat carrying his musical Teddy bear will probably be the most memorable). Otherwise, it is perfectly acceptable to skip it.

In "Battle of Algiers", Pontecorvo makes a conscious effort to present an impartial dramatization of the events that took place in Algeria in 1957 by neither demonizing, nor idealizing the Algerian resistance. The film delivers an unapologetic perspective on the injustices faced by the Algerian people, as well as their radical backlash against the French army.

Some cringe at the striking similarities between this film and the current situation in the Middle East. But instead of interpreting it as a prophetic approximation of the present, one quickly learns even after all these years, and even though it has taken on many different forms, the battle between Western idealism and Islamic fundamentalism has had a perpetual presence in the world that will not vanish until both sides relinquish the toxic need to impose their views on the other.

Pontecorvo's most accomplished scenes throughout this film happen when characters are on the verge of a decision. The culmination of these decisions will make you feel shocked, moved, and often angered, but surprisingly not at the characters choices, but at their circumstance.

This film is a bold example of the social commentary Buñuel's films are known for. The film is not a linear narrative, but instead a collection of situations that lend themselves to social satire.

The sketches are connected by multiple transient characters who at some point cross paths, allowing the director to resume following one, and start following another. The antics on screen gradually escalate in eccentricity as the film progresses, leaving you to guess how the current scene could possibly be outdone by the next.

The key to understanding and appreciating this movie is accepting the fact that it is a surreal film. The best scenes are irrational in nature, but hysterically entertaining if you allow yourself to enjoy it. However, if you are the hypercritical type, this film will be best enjoyed in the company of equally hypercritical friends, and access to an endless supply of alcohol.

When this film was first released in 1950, Buñuel faced strong opposition by Mexican critics and audiences who claimed it showcased a negative representation of Mexican people. The irony behind this accusation, mostly by the vicious tongues of the upper class, is that it solidifies the validity of the strong social commentary Buñuel attempts to make with this film.

"Los Olvidados" (The Forgotten Ones) is a denouncement of the cold shoulder turned to poor and handicapped people by a society who is inhumanely repulsed by their existence. The struggling children of the streets are masterfully personified by multidimensional characters whose maladjusted circumstances can cause them to be strong-willed, as well as pragmatic.

The fact that the Mexican elite felt no compassion toward these characters on screen, and instead chose to prioritize how this movie would deteriorate their "national image", proves that there was an unhealthy indifference toward the less fortunate that required social reformation. Poverty is a disconcerting reality present in every nation, not just Mexico. The dismissal of this reality was the shallow and unrealistic mindset the film sought out to uncover.

Of course, Buñuel quickly reclaimed the love and respect of the elite after winning "Best Director" at the "Cannes Film Festival" in 1951 ─ social hypocrisy at its best. However, the movie has proved to be an inspiration to those who did have to battle the unforgiving streets of Mexico, as they found comfort in the idea that their burden was being acknowledged.

The film features haunting performances by refreshingly confident child actors who truly own their craft, a hypnotizing dream sequence executed in a fashion that is ahead of its time, and an uneasy ending that will leave you talking about this story for days.

"Once Were Warriors" becomes increasingly unpredictable as the plot unravels. As a viewer, one continuously tries to guess in what direction the events of this engaging story are headed, but all assumptions will likely be incorrect.

The director cleverly sets up transitional scenes with a controlling mood that can either be romantic, endearing, or serene. Consequently, we adapt to this undisturbed frame of mind, which is then suddenly ravaged by the alarming hostility that unveils ─ whether it be physical or emotional.

Remarkable performances dominate the screen, and the resonating storyline pierces through the general cynicism that exists against the quality of international films.

Some may argue that the movie is a bit brutal, but the key is to watch this production objectively, and take it as such. But if an open mind is kept, one realizes that the deepest truths about social issues are best achieved when told through radical and unforgettable stories such as this one.