EL VIOLIN (Mexico/Spain/France, 2006). Wednesday, 28th January 2009EL VIOLÍN
Mexico/Spain/France, 2006. Directed by Francisco Vargas
Quevedo from his own screenplay. Photography (black and white):
Martín Boege Paré. Music: Cuauhtémoc Tavira and
Armando Rosas. Certificate: “15”. Length: 98 minutes.
It is many years since I thought of The Pearl but it came to mind again when watching Francisco Vargas Quevedo’s first feature El Violín which is also a film shot in black and white. In the 21st century that is no longer usual and it is a mark of the director’s individuality that he realised that the tale that he had to tell – and it is a screen original that he wrote himself – would gain from not being shot in colour. Since Vargas Quevedo, previously best known for his work in documentaries, is also producer and co-editor with Ricardo Garfias Méndez, this is very much his work and for the film to become an award winner is something of a triumph for a film-maker breaking fresh ground. Nevertheless, the person who stands out here is the film’s remarkable leading player Don Ángel Tavira.
Leading Players: DON ÁNGEL TAVIRA (Don Plutarco Hidalgo),
DAGOBERTO GAMA (Captain), GERARDO TARACENA (Genaro),
MARIO GARIBALDI (Lucio), FERMÍN MARTÍNEZ (Lieutenant).
Not so long ago Mexico claimed that it was the leading producer of films in Latin America and that may still be valid. Even so the fact is that in the last year or so the films from South America that have caught the eye have largely been those from Brazil and, if one puts to one side the films that the Spanish director Luis Buñuel made in Mexico, it is only on rare occasions that the Mexican film industry whatever its size produces work that goes around the world. That did happen with Y Tu Mamá Tambien (And Your Mother Too) which won acclaim (but not from me) when it was released here in 2002 and the Eastbourne Film Society did screen Alfonso Arau’s Like Water For Chocolate in 1994. There’s also the Mexican director Guillermo del Toro who has become a major cinema name, but he is an international figure and even his foreign language films evoke Spain rather more frequently than Mexico. So if you ask me to name a film that epitomises Mexican cinema I would probably nominate The Pearl. It was made in 1946 and released in Britain a few years later, its director being one of the best known of Mexican film-makers, Emilio Fernández. An adaptation of John Steinbeck’s novel, it was shot in black and white, was decidedly small-scale and had a character of its own.
It is many years since I thought of The Pearl but it came to mind again when watching Francisco Vargas Quevedo’s first feature El Violín which is also a film shot in black and white. In the 21st century that is no longer usual and it is a mark of the director’s individuality that he realised that the tale that he had to tell – and it is a screen original that he wrote himself – would gain from not being shot in colour. Since Vargas Quevedo, previously best known for his work in documentaries, is also producer and co-editor with Ricardo Garfias Méndez, this is very much his work and for the film to become an award winner is something of a triumph for a film-maker breaking fresh ground. Nevertheless, the person who stands out here is the film’s remarkable leading player Don Ángel Tavira.
When El Violín was shown at the Cannes Film Festival in 2006, Tavira won a Best Actor award and to use the word ‘remarkable’ of his work here is if anything an understatement. He was born in Mexico in 1924 into a family of traditional musicians. It was no surprise, therefore, that he should start to play the violin at the age of six and he continued with this regardless of an accident at the age of thirteen which cost him his right hand. During his long life he has been not only a musician but a farmer and an elementary and high school teacher. As the musical director of a group known as the Hermanos Tavira Band, he became known as somebody with a special interest in preserving the traditional music of Guerrero, the community into which he had been born. It was his work in this connection that brought him into contact with Vargas Quevedo who filmed him in a documentary about this endeavour. Having once encountered Tavira, he saw him as the ideal man to play the lead role in El Violín despite the fact that his appearance in it would mark the first time that he had acted on film. It’s true that the role which was offered to him is that of a violinist but El Violín is not a musical film but a drama. That this octogenarian should end up winning an award for his acting debut is, as viewers will discover, wholly justified.
In talking about El Violín Vargas Quevedo has indicated that he meant it to carry echoes of various conflicts in Mexico during the twentieth century, citing in particular the revolt by peasants that took place in Guerrero in the 1970s and which was an attempt to stand up for the rights of Indian communities there who were suffering repression at the hands of the authorities. More recent examples of comparable acts of repression may also be conjured up for audiences who are either Mexican or familiar with Mexican history, but to miss out on these references is not to find that the impact of the film is thereby diminished. That’s because it plays as a timeless comment on the need for the repressed to challenge those who would exploit them. Seen in this light, one unusual feature of El Violín is that it emerges as a work that is at one and the same time rooted in a specific setting and capable of coming across as a work of universal significance.
The film’s stark opening at once tells us quite a lot about the director’s approach. Interspersed among the credits we have a scene dealing with interrogation and torture by the military. Because this is a properly shocking start to the picture, it immediately confirms that this is no up-beat film about music as the title might have suggested. It also makes us respect the film-maker because these days it is all too often the case that a film that portrays brutality will indulge that brutality through the detailed depiction of it. Here in contrast Vargas Quevedo implies more than he shows thereby obtaining the impact he seeks while also showing restraint.
As the tale gets going, we realise that this is a study of how peasants living simple lives can find themselves so ill-used by the authorities that they become caught up in a struggle for survival. For many there is then no choice but to become guerrilla fighters despite the fact that initially at least this can make matters worse. It does so here when the military on being sent in to deal with the insurgents take women and children hostage and are indiscriminate in their actions. We see this situation as it affects one particular family. The film’s three main characters all belong to this family and cover three generations: there’s the grandfather, Don Plutarco (that’s Tavira’s role), his adult son Genaro (Gerardo Taracena) and the young grandson Lucio (Mario Garibaldi) who is still a child. When these three return to their village, Genaro discovers that his wife and daughter have been seized by the soldiers. To continue their resistance, the guerrilla group to which Genaro belongs are in desperate need of a cache of ammunition that has been hidden in cornfields belonging to the family. However to get hold of this item is quite a challenge since the soldiers headed by a captain (Dagoberto Gama) have taken over the area. (cont.)
“A majestic performance” – Philip French, The Observer.
“A terse little picture” – Daily Telegraph.
“A character you’re likely to remember – his face alone is worth a thousand words”
- Derek Malcolm, Evening Standard.
Programme Note by Mansel Stimpson.
