WP1: Viva El Cine: The Oppression & Perseverance of Latin Americans in Film
The art of cinema, like any art form, is inherently introspective. Filmmakers often express that one must feel a burning desire to tell a story before putting it to the screen, and naturally, many of the stories which lend themselves to this level of passion are deeply personal. However, this sentiment is often misconstrued and utilized — consciously or unconsciously — by studios and audiences to gatekeep the types of films Latin American filmmakers are expected to make. In 2022, a blatant display of this phenomenon was seen following the release of Mexican writer-director Alejandro González Iñárritu’s latest film, Bardo, False Chronicle of a Handful of Truths. A surrealist exploration of fame and identity, Bardo marked Iñárritu’s ambitious return to Spanish language cinema. However, the film was immediately met with critiques which illustrate the unjust expectations Latin American filmmakers face. These expectations are based on preconceived notions of Latin American culture and experiences, ideas that are often misconceptions derived from existing portrayals of said culture in popular media. Latin American filmmakers are expected to portray their “struggle” as seen through an American lens, diluting the identity of said filmmakers to their history with violence, oppression, or discrimination. Not only do these expectations feed into racist stereotypes by assuming what individual Latin Americans have experienced, they also imply that somehow they lack the creativity and talent to tell stories beyond their personal experiences.
Bardo is a unique example of this problem due to the very fact that Iñárritu did base much of the film on his own experiences, Iñárritu grapples with fame and the inner conflict which comes with carrying two nationalities through stunning dreamlike sequences. These experiences along with the film’s surrealist style, however, are not what U.S. audiences expect from Latin Americans. Although Iñárritu’s prior two films, Birdman or (The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance) (2014) and The Revenant (2015) both received near-universal critical acclaim, each earning the filmmaker a Best Director Oscar, with Birdman taking home the coveted Best Picture Academy Award, Bardo, Iñárritu’s return to Mexican cinema, was widely ignored.
When white auteur Noah Baumbach writes and directs Marriage Story (2019), an autobiographical film detailing his experience with divorce it is deemed “his most assured work to date” by The Daily Beast’s Nick Schager (Schager). However, when Iñárritu makes an autobiographical exploration of his experiences as a Mexican filmmaker, the very same Nick Schager dubs it “cinematic narcissism” due to the film’s surrealism. Even more frustrating is Schager’s acknowledgment of Iñárritu’s talent while simultaneously framing it in a negative light, stating “…Bardo, False Chronicle of a Handful of Truths reconfirms that Iñárritu’s formal skills are second to none, but here they’re in service of roundabout and tedious self-inquiry” (Schager). Schager never even stops to consider the fact that, as a white man, he is not the film’s intended audience, as Bardo is explicitly an exploration of Mexican identity. In a Los Angeles Times interview with Josh Rottenberg, Iñárritu responded to criticisms leveled at the film. “This [film] is not self-referential. This is not narcissistic. It’s not me. But I want somebody to explain why I don’t have the right to talk about something that is very important for me and for my family. If I maybe was from Denmark or if I was Swedish I would be a philosopher. But because I did it in a powerful way visually I am pretentious because I’m Mexican. If you’re a Mexican and you make a film like that, you’re a pretentious guy … I hope somebody can turn down that narrative, which is very reductive and a little racist, I have to say” (Iñárritu). While Bardo could simply not have been a great film, a sentiment I personally disagree with, the issue itself lies in biased expectations from white audiences and critics. The truth of the matter is that the vast majority of U.S. audiences and critics are not interested in Latin American cinema unless it satisfies their preconceived notions of Latin American culture, most of which stem from the core belief that life in Latin America is rooted in suffering.
As a Mexican immigrant, I have faced the same expectations when sharing my interest in filmmaking. The amount of times one of my peers, or even a mentor, has asked if I’d be interested in portraying the “immigrant struggle” on film is baffling. However, when these expectations are constantly leveled at someone from such a young age, they can have a drastic effect on the way in which they perceive themselves. My status as an immigrant meant little to me at the age of ten, but it quickly became clear that, to my white peers, this is all I was. That simple label became my identity through no choice of my own. The seemingly inescapable cage I found myself in held my aspirations hostage, filling my mind with self-doubt.
Up-and-coming American filmmakers are rarely asked whether they’re interested in directing films surrounding uniquely American issues such as school shootings or the opioid crisis, to name a few. However, before I was even a teenager, I was expected to constantly think about the suffering which occurs in my home country by those around me due to an almost sadistic desire to see it for themselves. White filmmakers, American and European alike, are allowed to make fantasy and science fiction films, coming-of-age movies, stoner comedies, surrealist epics, and everything in between. Latin American filmmakers, though, apparently lack the creativity to portray anything but the suffering they are expected to have experienced in the eyes of white audiences. The comments belittling my culture, which reduce it to nothing more than a culture of struggle, are microaggressions, and while the term suggests a minuscule or insignificant form of discrimination, it is oppression through and through. In Pedagogy of the Oppressed Paulo Freire defines an oppressive act as one which “prevents people from being more fully human” (Freire 57). As these expectations fuel sentiments of white superiority, stripping Latin Americans of a unique identity, and in turn, of their humanity, the microaggressions faced by Latin American filmmakers are oppressive.
In realizing that my pain does not define me or my art, I felt more confident in my abilities as a filmmaker than ever before. This confidence allowed me to stray from what was expected of me and apply to USC’s School of Cinematic Arts, which is where I now proudly study. Latin American filmmakers such as Alejandro González Iñárritu will forever act as my personal heroes for combatting racist expectations and refusing to cater to white audiences, showing the world that Latin American cinema is just as valuable and unique as any other kind of art.
WORKS CITED
Freire, Paulo. “Chapter 1.” Pedagogy of the Oppressed, 30th Anniversary Edition ed., Continuum, p. 57.
Rottenberg, Josh. “Alejandro G. Iñárritu Answers Critics of His New Film: ‘There’s a Kind of Racist Undercurrent’.” Los Angeles Times, Los Angeles Times, 5 Sept. 2022, https://www.latimes.com/entertainment-arts/movies/story/2022-09-04/alejandro-gonzalez-inarritu-bardo-critics.
Schager, Nick. “Iñárritu’s ‘Bardo’ Is an Insufferable Exercise in Narcissism.” The Daily Beast, The Daily Beast Company, 5 Nov. 2022, https://www.thedailybeast.com/obsessed/alejandro-gonzalez-inarritus-bardo-review-insufferable-exercise-in-narcissism.
Schager, Nick. “Scarlett Johansson and Adam Driver Break Each Other’s Hearts in the Exquisite ‘Marriage Story’.” The Daily Beast, The Daily Beast Company, 4 Oct. 2019, https://www.thedailybeast.com/noah-baumbachs-marriage-story-scarlett-johansson-and-adam-driver-break-each-others-hearts.
