Abstract

Reviewed by: Cine político en México (1968–2017) ed. by Adriana Estrada Álvarez, Nicolás Défossé and Diego Zavala María Luisa Ruiz Adriana Estrada Álvarez, Nicolás Défossé, and Diego Zavala, editores. Cine político en México (1968–2017). Peter Lang, 2019. Pp. 350. ISBN 978-1-43315-912-1. The second book in Peter Lang’s Transamerican Film and Literature Series, Cine político en México (1968–2017) is ambitious and expansive. Written in Spanish, it critically addresses the role of politically engaged cinema and video in contemporary Mexican culture. Using the 1968 student movement as its point of departure, the edited volume suggests that film and video provide creative spaces in which the complex and challenging social, political and cultural changes in Mexico can be narrated and challenged. Ultimately, the editors assert, cinema has great potential to imagine a more peaceful and democratic nation. With its diverse selection of academic articles and first-person accounts, its inclusion of works by less-known film makers and artists, the volume deftly establishes an important [End Page 127] connection between a community of creators and academics and highlights the relationship between social and cultural movements and the historical, political and social dimensions of cinema and video in Mexico. The book is organized into two sections. The first, titled “Miradas,” uses 1968 as its starting point—a politically and cinematographically significant year for Mexico in which several events have left an indelible mark on its collective national memory—. The 1968 Olympic Games (hosted for the first time by Mexico), the student activists who demanded changes by the entrenched PRI political machine, and the Mexican government’s brutal response to the student movement that was later named “La Noche de Tlalteloco” continue to be, as Carlos Monsiváis asserted, días de guardar. The introductory essay considers important documentaries, films and multimedia efforts that try to make sense of the state violence perpetrated against the student activists. It also discusses Héctor Bonilla’s influential film about the event, Rojo amanecer (1989). Essays in this section also provide critical discussions of other key moments in Mexico’s national history, including one that looks at the documentaries that shine a light on the state violence and repression suffered in San Salvador Atenco in 2006. This essay discusses the documentary films produced by the Frente de pueblos en defensa de la tierra about this event, in which state policemen were brought in to brutally put down protests stemming from the eviction of 40 flower vendors, all linked to a land-rights group, from their market stalls. Two people were killed, hundreds were arrested, including dozens of women who reported being sexually abused by the police. The author argues that these documentary films can help create space in Mexico’s national imaginary for indigenous voices and, more importantly, serve as a way to build solidarity among marginalized communities who challenge hegemonic economic systems and hierarchies of power. Many of these pivotal events in Mexico’s recent political history have been narrated not just on film, but also on video and other forms of visual media (multimedia, documentaries, and more recently, YouTube and social media). As Claudia Magallanes Blanco, author of one of the chapters, affirms, because of relatively easy access to handheld cameras, the ability to quickly make copies of a film, and ease in distribution, in the 1980s and 1990s video becomes a democratic medium by which marginalized groups and non-corporate interests can contest official narratives. Other articles in this section include analyses of films and documentaries related to the 1994 Zapatista movement, life under NAFTA, and the ways narcotraffic has been narrated in film, documentary photography and video-installations. The second section, titled, “Experiencias,” provides readers with the reflections and personal stories of filmmakers. These considerations include one by cinematographer and filmmaker Diego Quemada Díez, in which he describes the inspiration behind, the creation and the reception of his 2013 achingly lyrical film Jaula de oro, a film which recounts the journey thousands of migrants take on the train, dubbed La bestia, from Central America, through Mexico to the United States, told from the point...

Full Text
Published version (Free)

Talk to us

Join us for a 30 min session where you can share your feedback and ask us any queries you have

Schedule a call