Y TU MAMÁ TAMBIÉN
by Sasha Stone

"She's got everything she needs, she's an artist, she don't look back."
-- B. Dylan

Y Tu Mamá También was directed by Mexico's Alfonso Cuarón and is yet another example of Mexico's vibrant film scene. Cuarón's beautifully painful, precisely drawn coming-of-age story will ultimately find itself among the genre's best, right up there with The 400 Blows and Breaking Away. Like these films, Y Tu Mamá También reflects back on youth with a great deal of heart, irony, and a sense of the bigger picture: what is happening in the world at large.

Know this: there isn't a better film out there right now, not even counting leftovers from last year, than Y Tu Mamá También, and to see it is to be counted among those who got lucky to share in film history. It's a movie that will pop up again and again in many a film class to both celebrate Mexico's new wave and to illustrate what good writing and original storytelling are all about.

Cuarón, who wrote the film along with his brother Carlos Cuarón, has created memorable characters who maneuver through deceptively familiar situations and find themselves making big decisions on the spot. The story opens on two great pals, one rich, the other poor, who are caught in the moment right before self-awareness starts, before the truth catches up with you, and death becomes a real possibility.

Julio (Gael García Bernal) and Tenoch (Diego Luna) are ditched by their girlfriends for the summer and brazenly invite a beautiful an older (but still quite young) woman, Luisa (Maribel Verdú) on a trip to a fictitious beach called "Heaven's Mouth." Much to the shock of the two boys, Luisa agrees to go with them. So, they borrow Julio's sister's car "for five days" and head toward some unknown, mysterious destination, hoping to impress their gorgeous passenger. Along the way, the boys introduce Luisa to their code of living, a list of ten rules they supposedly live by and know by heart - (searching for the truth is unattainable, don't screw each other's girlfriends, whack off all the time, etc.). Luisa is amused by their youthful exuberance and even shares a thing or two about her personal life. But ultimately, this journey will take all three to unexpected places. Their lessons will last a lifetime and they will always remember this trip no matter how hard they try to forget.

What makes Y Tu Mamá También so good isn't the raw sex scenes, of which you've undoubtedly read about in many a review by this point, but the startlingly astute, refreshing prose that hits the film at random - a style that is by no means new, but one that feels necessary at this point, particularly as American films seem reluctant to deliver good writing anymore. Much of what goes on between the three characters isn't on the surface - it's something they hide from each other but that the narrator reveals to us. It's these details in the story that are among the reasons why the film captivates the way it does. The narrator's stories are not tolerated for the sake of clarity or plot development; they enrich the whole experience of seeing the film - and it's these moments, and others, that linger so long afterward.

The film is also unique for many of us Southern California gringos whose perception of Mexicans is that they are all very poor migrant workers who long to immigrate to the US and are having children like rabbits. It is rare to see how, for example, rich Mexicans live - and rare to see two teenage boys who not only don't want to come to live in America, but look down on people who do. This is a Mexico full of students who want to be writers, and young women who march in protest lines, and are sexually aware, like Luisa, who can be counted among cinema's greatest sex goddesses - a woman who wants to teach blundering, clumsy men that it's about a whole lot more than wham bam thank you ma'am.

Running throughout Cuarón's film is the same awareness of class distinction that the director explored in his last film, Great Expectations with Ethan Hawke and Gwyneth Paltrow. The unspoken conflict between Julio and Tenoch functions as each character's trump card. There is also the idea that great artists will always transcend class. Y Tu Mamá También makes the point that there are frozen moments in time where there doesn't seem to be any limits to a person's happiness - if there is tragedy's shadow lurking somewhere, it remains, for a time, unseen. Maybe the moment is always doomed to pass, maybe nothing lasts forever, but there is much to say, and Cuarón says it well, about life's spontaneous gifts - who gives them, and who takes them away.

©2002 Sasha Stone
CineScene