Border Crossings

When I was a high school student in a small Southern town, old enough to begin developing an interest in politics, and shortly before I would become eligible to vote for the first time, I sincerely believed that the stupidest, ugliest opinions of various candidates and officials were just matters of ignorance and poor thinking. Presented with more information and shown the errors in their reasoning, I thought, anyone seeking or holding office could recognize his or her foolishness and its ill consequences, then adjust a position accordingly to everyone’s benefit.

Since those innocent days, I have become persuaded that only a small minority of politicians have ears for evidence to the contrary or eyes ready to spot faults in their logic. Too many are worse than ignorant or unreasonable, they are willfully deaf and blind to any information or insight that endangers the outlook that carried them into office. They have no interest, even a severe allergy to investigating matters deeply or reflecting upon their own positions, no matter how patently ridiculous or offensive. Absurd and disgusting are desirable, so long as they are popular.

And no issue, both here and abroad, is more suited to willful, self-serving distortion and abuse than immigration. The person who looks, speaks, and behaves in any way differently from the majority of the population, or from the majority’s hypocritical, idealized cartoon of itself, easily becomes the cause of every personal shortcoming and societal ill. All the more so, if the foreigners enter the territory of the majority without permission. Certainly there are cases of genuine invasion throughout history, but weapons in hand are easy to distinguish from bundles of meager possessions or sickly children borne on backs.

Changing the minds of politicians who derive their power from harangues against immigrants by presenting statistics and other facts or by pointing out the shoddy mechanics of their thinking is doomed to failure. The opinions of the voters must change first, then the worst politicians will follow suit or they will lose their offices. Data and logical parsing will sway the most educated voters, but the well-founded emotional appeals of high quality artworks, the most efficient conversions of the political into the personal, are more likely to convince citizens of every background.

In that spirit, I have collected below a number of recent, readily available films on the most pressing immigration issue facing our nation: the crossing of thousands annually from Latin America through Mexico. Though most of my selections are fiction films, the production of most on the south side of the border lends them perspectives so often lacking in Hollywood, in the US population at large, and in too many of our political leaders. Examine them for yourself and share with them others, especially those who imagine that they understand the issues well enough already from their little corner of  “ ’murica.”

We begin with two movies on the current state of Mexico at its worse. Here are glimpses of the conditions that motivate so many from our nearest neighbor and from countries further south to risk the journey to el Norte.

Luis Estrada’s El Infierno (2010) is a gangster tale: a sprinkle of Coppola’s Godfather here, of DePalma’s Scarface there, and a full ladle of Scorsese’s Goodfellas all around. In fact, El Infierno tops those iconic films in the brutality of its violence and the explicitness of its sex scenes, earning it an NC-17 rating. Worse, the criminality is all-pervading and inescapable: the gangs of Mexico are not small parasites attached to a healthy host, like the Italian mafia in the United States; especially in remote areas, Mexican gangs are the economy and the state. Heavy doses of black comedy make the short lives of the characters and the experience of viewers bearable. The jokes end in the final shot, though, as the next generation takes its turn in the cycle of suffering and death. Grimace and guffaw through El Infierno, available instantly on Netflix.

If drug gangs terrorize a region of Mexico, can citizens rely upon federal authorities and the national army for assistance? Francisco Vargas’ The Violin (2005) argues absolutamente no; the army behaves no differently than the gangs, preying upon a passive peasantry and ruthlessly pursuing any who dare to rebel. Here brief moments of escape from such a stark situation, rendered more so in black and white, come not from laughter — the privilege of those in power — but from sadly soulful music. Like so many high-ranking Nazis on screen and in the real war, The Violin’s Capitán (Dagobergo Gama) imagines that his love for music makes him a sensitive, cultured man and his mission a work of progress and civilization, even as he and his soldiers brutalize men, women, and children. In the end, music presents the final act of defiance when the rebels and villagers can no longer resist bodily. The Violin is available on DVD from Netflix and instantly on Amazon.

If both the state’s forces and criminal organizations, with little distinction between them, make living conditions intolerable, how can one escape to more peaceful and prosperous conditions in los Estados Unidos? Joshua Marston’s Maria Full of Grace (2004) provides one avenue for the desperate: fly across the border in comfort with forged papers, so long as you carry kilos of narcotics inside your gut. Fail to pass through airport security or to meet your contact on the other side and disgorge your payload, however, and your family in the home country pays with their lives. Viewers will gag justifiably as they watch Maria Full of Grace, available on DVD from Netflix.

Rebecca Cammisa’s Which Way Home (2009) describes another means of crossing the border. This documentary follows a handful of Honduran, Guatemalan, and Mexican children, ranging in age from 9 to 17, as they attempt to travel nearly 1500 miles to the border with the US. Their transport is la Bestia, “the Beast,” the local name for the network of freight trains that carry fortunate stowaways on their roofs and grind the unlucky into pieces beneath their wheels. Police beat and rob anyone they catch along the way, and at the end of the line, unscrupulous guides and the remorseless desert await. The government corruption and blackmarket economies that drive so many adults out of Mexico are issues too large for the middle school travelers of Which Way Home to grasp; local poverty and broken families, one feeding the other,  push them to risk their lives on the Beast. As the film’s title implies, their trips are not simply one-way. Which is the worse fate, making the trip or suffering deportation back to their home countries, becomes difficult to judge. See Which Way Home instantly on Netflix.

Lucy Mulloy’s Una Noche (2012) considers the prospect of escape by sea from Cuba to the US. The protagonists are teenagers, making this a coming-of-age story as much as an immigration tale. Raúl (Dariel Arrechaga) must flee accusations of assaulting a tourist, testing best friend  Elio’s (Javier Núñez Florián) ties to his family, especially sister Lila (Anailín de la Rúa de la Torre). Like teenagers around the world, though, Raúl, Elio, and Lila conceive a plan to leave their island home that is as childish in execution as it is adult in ambition. Perhaps the recent thaw in US-Cuban relations may remediate some of the desperation there and prevent future generations from making similar, tragic mistakes. Una Noche is available instantly on Netflix, Amazon, and iTunes.

In Christopher Zalla’s Sangre De Mi Sangre (2007), teenage immigrants Diego (Jesús Ochoa) and Juan (Armando Hernández) manage to cross the border safely. On their way to New York City, though, Juan steals Diego’s identity papers and arrives at the grimy apartment of Diego’s father Pedro (Jorge Adrián Espíndola), posing as his son. While Juan takes advantage of Pedro, Diego searches the streets of Brooklyn for his father with a savvy, but scheming street-dweller named Magda (Paola Mendoza). The result is an immigration story wrapped around a Hitchcock thriller. See Sangre De Mi Sangre instantly on Netflix.

Entre Nos (2009),written and directed by Gloria La Morte and the same Paola Mendoza who played Magda in Sangre above, is simpler in story and style, to devastating effect. Again the principal characters have arrived in New York, but they are not teenagers free to pursue their own fortunes. Instead, Mariana (Mendoza) and Antonio (Andres Munar) are a married couple with a young son and daughter. But soon the opportunities of their new world, both economic and otherwise, begin to tempt Antonio, and he leaves the struggles of his little family for higher living in Miami. Alone, out of money, and speaking little English, Mariana must somehow provide for her children in the biggest of big cities. Her situation rapidly degenerates in a matter of days. Never underestimate, though, a mother’s resolve. A brief bit of text at the close of film describing Mendoza’s special relationship to the characters may be the most stunning moment. Entre Nos is available on DVD from Netflix and instantly on Amazon and iTunes.

Finally, Amat Escalante’s Los Bastardos (2008) completes the circle of hell that began in El Infierno. This time the new country proves just as dreadful as the old: Jesús (Jesús Moises Rodriguez) and his teenage sidekick Fausto (Rubén Sosa) are recent Mexican immigrants to Los Angeles, where little day labor, but many humiliations interrupt the long hot, days. A dream deferred is a dream denied, and Jesús, with Fausto in tow, seeks to claim a larger share of American prosperity for himself by more direct means. In the process, he and Fausto find the local Angelinos faring little better. To suit this story of stagnation, Escalante keeps the camera still and drags shots out to uncomfortable lengths; time is all these characters have, and trivial activities are their only means of filling it. The hard light of LA at midday is inescapable, and the blackness of the desert night is almost impenetrable. The slow build of tension is excruciating, and the breaking point is sudden and shocking. Some uneven acting  — often the gringos are better in their silent moments than when delivering their lines -- is the only shortcoming of this otherwise superbly  horrifying independent production. Ignore so many incompetent, negative user reviews on Netflix, and brace yourself for instant viewing of Los Bastardos.

With luck, films like these may change the minds of too many ordinary people and politicians in the United States who see immigration through Mexico as a simple matter of lazy, lawless foreigners seeking to take advantage of the prosperity achieved by hard-working, law-abiding native citizens.

Even those of us already convinced of the situation’s complexities and supportive of more nuanced, humane policies to match may need one more caveat, though: the films and other arts of Central and South America hardly limit themselves to tales of leaving behind the misery of home for the paradise of the North. We ought to make the same effort to experience the wide-ranging, highly accomplished Latin cinema, photography, painting, sculpture, literature, music, theater, and dance that set no eye on any elsewhere. Stay tuned here for some of those movies . . .