Gueros is one of those debut features that’s three parts homage and two parts “look at what I can do” calling card. It’s the kind of movie critics rhapsodize over for paragraphs on end, until it almost makes you feel guilty about your own less passionate response. Director Alonso Ruizpalacios leans way too heavily on tributes to 60s-era French New Wave, to the point where you start yearning to watch his inspirations instead. Yet, every time I began to tire of these shout-outs to Godard and others, the film would surprise me with a shot or sequence that is purely the director’s own.
When Ruizpalacios bypasses homage to choose his own visual adventure, the results are often fascinating, from a storm of feathers falling inside a car during a panic attack to the camera suddenly turning upside down as a troublemaker runs from punishment. A foot chase down several flights of stairs is lensed by an insanely unhinged camera, and things both deadly and benign fall from the sky while the focus remains on the unsuspecting victims below. The striking black-and-white cinematography by Damien Garcia is a character unto itself. It comments on the action, or lack thereof, with framing and movement that underscores or mimics the emotional state of the characters.
Gueros exists as a series of movements, with a title card appearing before each piece. The tiniest wisp of a plotline appears in the guise of a road trip to visit a famous Mexican rock singer in the hospital. The singer, Epigmenio Cruz, is a favorite of Tomas (Sebastián Aguirre). He inherited that love, and a cherished cassette tape of Cruz’s album, from his late father. Tomas solicits his brother Federico aka Sombra (Tenoch Huerta) and Sombra’s college roommate Santos (Leonardo Ortizgris) to drive him on this meandering journey through Mexico City and other towns in search of Epigmenio Cruz.
The cassette tape/elusive singer angle reminded me of the far superior French classic, Diva, though Gueros adds a clever twist on the cassette. Whenever anyone listens to Cruz’s album on their headphones, the sound drops out of the film. There’s a great, intimate shot of Tomas and Santos leaning on opposite sides of Sombra’s face as he listens, their heads filling the frame in close-up as we are left to our own devices for musical accompaniment. Later on, when they are joined by a fourth traveler named Ana (Ilse Salas), on whom Sombra has a crush, she too is intrigued enough by Cruz’s music. “It’s like nothing I’ve ever heard,” she says, rubbing our faces in the fact that we never hear the songs.
From a storytelling perspective, Gueros is most interesting just before the trio take off on their road trip to find Cruz. The film begins with a mini-movie featuring a character whose physical appearance and struggle with her toddler tell a wordless, potentially violent short story. She becomes the victim of a water balloon prank by Tomas, and is never seen again, but her complaint to Tomas’ mother gets him sent to the Sombra’s house in Mexico City.
Sombra and Santos are not at school due to the 1999 university strike that shut down their school. Though the students have taken over the entire school, Sombra remains at home. “I’m on a strike against the strike,” Sombra tells his brother. When the downstairs neighbor’s mother isn’t home, Sombra steals electricity from her to power his apartment. When that isn’t possible, the trio just sit in the apartment and veg out. During this section, Ruizpalacios’s camera is mostly static, representing the boredom of its subjects. Occasionally, the camera fixates on something, like bugs crawling in the dirty sink or the gross, peeling feet of Santos as he scratches them.
The visual elements change once Tomas gets tired of his brother’s penchant for staying in the house. Tomas’ escape kicks off the road trip and the emergence of a liberated camera. Along the way, the trio will have a scary encounter with a gang member, intentionally cause a traffic jam and steal vegetables from a garden. They also crash a party where the director shows up and stops the film to ask the actors if they think his script is any good. There are other cutesy meta devices employed in Gueros, but this is easily its worst scene.
By contrast, the film’s best scene features strike activist Ana taking Sombra through the university hallway, pausing to describe what kind of student is camping out there. Ruizpalacios follows her, peering into each room while maintaining a fluid camera motion. The richer kids have mattresses to sleep on; the poorer kids have tents or sleeping bags. Neither faction share a room, which may be a theme of the film. Nobody seems to mix or fit in with other types of people. Tomas and company are constantly singled out for something during their adventure.
Gueros is a director’s film; that is, he’s the star. With the numerous technical tricks employed, we’re never not aware of his presence. The characters are not really developed, though the actors play them as well as possible. There’s also a protracted love story of sorts that remains unresolved, though it gives the film its final image. As a whole, Gueros does not hang together at all. But its pieces are intriguing enough to warrant a look for fans of stylish visual filmmaking. This is a film that makes me want to see what the director does next, despite not necessarily wanting to revisit what he did first.
