The Mexican Revolution was hardly over when it began to be interpreted on the screen. But did it ever end? Earlier this year we presented Fernando de Fuentes's searing examination of the Revolution in his celebrated trilogy from the 1930s. The struggle of class and values was replayed throughout Mexican cinema's “Golden Age,” in the melodramas of El Indio Emilio Fernández and the raw aesthetic power of Gabriel Figueroa's cinematography, which the painter David Siqueiros called “murals that travel”; in the rumberas with their Afro-Cuban rhythms, brothel settings, and moody stars; even in the wildly clever comedies of Cantinflas and Tin Tan. Our historical survey also includes some rarities that defy categorization, such as a morphine-laced silent drama from 1927. As A. O. Scott recently wrote in the New York Times, “There is a frankness in these films that would never have passed muster with the Hays Office.”
The Mexican Revolution was hardly over when it began to be interpreted on the screen. But did it ever end? Earlier this year we presented Fernando de Fuentes's searing examination of the Revolution in his celebrated trilogy from the 1930s. The struggle of class and values was replayed throughout Mexican cinema's “Golden Age,” in the melodramas of El Indio Emilio Fernández and the raw aesthetic power of Gabriel Figueroa's cinematography, which the painter David Siqueiros called “murals that travel”; in the rumberas with their Afro-Cuban rhythms, brothel settings, and moody stars; even in the wildly clever comedies of Cantinflas and Tin Tan. Our historical survey also includes some rarities that defy categorization, such as a morphine-laced silent drama from 1927. As A. O. Scott recently wrote in the New York Times, “There is a frankness in these films that would never have passed muster with the Hays Office.”
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