Saturday Night At The Movies

Take me to the river

By Dennis Hartley
















Stygian journey: Paulina Gaitan in Sin Nombre



Every now and then a debut film comes along that has a voice. And when I say “voice”, I mean that the director’s confidence and clarity of cinematic vision has a tangible presence-from the very first frame to the closing credits. Maybe I’m a little jaded, but it doesn’t happen that much these days. So when I saw Cary Fukunaga’s amazingly assured first feature, Sin Nombre, it “…made my big toe shoot right up in my boot,” (as Little Richard described his reaction the first time he ever saw Jimi Hendrix perform on stage).

Defying all expectations, this modestly budgeted, visually expansive gem hinges on a simple narrative, but is anything but predictable. It’s an adventure, yet it is informed by an almost meditative stillness that makes the occasional frisson that much more gripping and real. It delves into gang culture, but it isn’t a movie about gangs. It has protagonists who are desperately attempting to immigrate to the United States by any means necessary, yet this isn’t yet another earnest message film about “the plight” of illegal immigrants. It’s a “road movie”, but the future’s uncertain-and the end is always near.

The film is basically comprised of two stories, which eventually merge as one. One story begins in Honduras, centered around a headstrong teenaged girl named Sayra (Paulina Gaitan) who joins her long estranged father and uncle as they journey to Mexico, where they plan to ride the rails as far north as possible before making a final dash across the border to America, where dreams of milk and honey await in New Jersey (they hope). Sayra’s father hopes to use their time together on the road to become reacquainted with his daughter. Sayra, who seems to be working through some abandonment issues, is polite but set on keeping a cool distance from his belated attempts at offering fatherly advice and exerting parental authority. Still, Sayra, her father and her uncle begin to form a family unit, precipitated more by circumstance and necessity than by genuine affection.

Another type of extended family unit is examined in the film’s companion narrative, which takes us to the southern Mexico state of Chiapas, and is centered on a local chapter of the notorious “MS-13” gang. We are introduced to the group by witnessing a brutal initiation rite, a 13-second long “beat down” on a disturbingly young inductee nicknamed “El Smiley” (Kristian Ferrer). Punches and kicks are soon replaced by congratulatory hugs, as Smiley is welcomed as a “brother” by his new homies, and anointed a “son” by the leader, “Lil Mago” (Tenoch Huerta Mejia). We also meet Willy, known to his homies as “El Caspar” (Edgar Flores) who is Smiley’s sponsor, and a de facto big brother figure to the young boy. While he is a dedicated and respected member of the gang, Willy gives us glimpses of a creeping disenchantment with gang life; we sense that he dreams of a better life. He also has something that appears to be lacking in his fellow homies-a genuine heart and soul. This pang of conscience leads to a fateful conflict with Mago, a repugnant sociopath who will accept nothing less than unquestioning, blind obedience from his underlings. Circumstance puts Willy in the same train yard where Sayra and her relatives await to jump a train that will take them north; and thusly their stories converge.

While this is a very human story, containing all the elements of classic drama (love, hope, betrayal, revenge, personal sacrifice), it is also very much about geography, and the elegiac tone that it evokes for what is essentially a harrowing tale. As the train whistle stops its way the length of Mexico, that country’s rugged beauty is captured in gorgeous “golden hour” hues by cinematographer Adriano Goldman. Goldman’s work here started to remind me of the great Nestor Almendros, who did the magnificent photography for Terence Malick’s Days of Heaven. In fact, I found myself flashing on Malick’s film a lot (the Texas prairies used as backdrop in Days of Heaven are in the same neck of the woods, and some story elements and the protagonist’s point of view are reminiscent of that film, too). Whether or not Malick was a conscious influence on Fukunaga is a moot point, because this film stands on its own. Besides, one could have worse influences.

For an unknown cast (many acting in a film for the first time), there are an astonishing number of outstanding performances. I think this adds to the naturalistic, believable tone of the film. My film going companion, who is a native of Mexico (she’s from Colima), was quite impressed by that element, and seconded the motion that the milieu was muy autentico. Sin Nombre is another rarity these days-it’s meant to be seen on the big screen.

Previous posts with related themes:

The Three Burials of Melquiades Estrada/El Norte

Gomorrah