heaven’s mouth
by
Douglas Messerli
Carlos
Cuarón and Alfonso Cuarón (screenplay), Alfonso
Cuarón (director) Y Tu Mamá También /
2001
On the surface
of its narrative, Alfonso Cuarón’s film Y
Tu Mamá También is a teenage road movie, as two young Mexican boys travel
with an older married woman across the Mexican landscape on their way to an
imaginary seaside beach—which, amazingly, they actually do stumble upon. The
tale of Tenoch (Diego Luna), from a wealthy family, and Julio (Gael García
Bernal), from a middleclass leftist family, is also a coming of age movie, as
the two teenagers falsely brag about their sexual conquests, have sex with the
beautiful woman, Luisa (Maribel Verdú), and ultimately discover themselves in
each other’s arms in bed.
But these genres are overlaid by much
more fascinating issues when Cuarón and his writer brother also reveal the
cultural differences of rural and privileged city life in Mexico, as we serve as
witness to events along their route; and, similarly, they transform their work
into a kind of “sentimental education,” as, along the road, Luisa subtly
teaches these horny young boys how to actually behave with and even come to
love women, which, apparently, her own husband—who has just told her that he
has been having an affair with another woman—has never learned.
Finally, the film is an elegy to Luisa, who at
the end of the voyage is described by the boys, who have gone their separate
ways but accidently run into each other again, as having died of cancer.
Although Cuarón uses a narrator to fill in
narrative gaps and past facts, the film does not judge its characters or the
political situations it reveals, but simply and openly displays images to the
viewer, allowing the audience to make their own inner perceptions. His method
is particularly useful when it comes to the subject of sex, which, as critic
Roger Ebert, adamantly observed, is presented so very differently here than in
most US movies.
One can imagine an US version of this film
in which the camera leers over the naked bodies of first Tenoch and Luisa, and
then, to bring the boys to equal status, Julio and Luisa. Most certainly Luisa
would have been judged as a loose woman if not an outright slut. But in the
Mexican version she is more of an older tutor, a beautiful teacher
demonstrating to them the art of lovemaking, teasing them for their sexual
taunts, and yet fully enjoying the sexual act. She is, after all, a jilted woman
who is near death, and she almost wisely has agreed to the trip to help relieve
some of her inner feelings of emptiness.
Even when the boys find themselves in a
homosexual moment, we recognize that the passions moving through their young
bodies was simply momentarily out of control; we have no evidence that they are
possibly closeted gays. Sex, in this film is simply a pleasurable experience
with no sense of negative consequence or guilt. And the experiences of this
summer clearly change both Tenoch’s and Julio’s life in positive ways.
Similarly, the sometimes odd or perhaps
even threatening behavior of some of the rural natives is met rather
good-naturedly, particularly with Luisa explaining things from the back seat.
When they pass police checkpoints, ride by traffic accidents, and, at one
point, are blocked by a flower-covered checkpoint by celebrants of a girl
dressed in white, a stand-in for the Virgin, Luisa calms their fears. “You have a beautiful bride,” she quietly
says, as they pay a small donation so that they may pass.
Despite this film’s objectivity and
serenity, however, we recognize that, psychologically, all three characters are
experiencing something like an earthquake, a momentous moment in their lives
that will make the boys into different people than they might have been before
their voyage; and which, hopefully, provided Luisa some final peace of mind.
After all, they found Heaven’s Mouth, the name of the famed beach, without
really knowing where it was.
Los Angeles,
August 17, 2016
Great review, Douglas.
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