Comunicación y Medios N°36 (2017) ISSN 0716-3991 / e-ISSN 0719-1529
www. comunicacionymedios.uchile.cl
Approaching the real in Everardo Gonzalez’s cinema
Aproximaciones a lo real en el cine de Everardo González
Javier Ramírez-Miranda
Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México, Ciudad de México, México
[email protected]
Abstract
Cuates de Australia is the chronicle of a catastrophe. It is the name of a ranch in the north
of Mexico, where the families of the place cyclically face the rigor of the summer and only
resist by a diffuse tradition, whose roots are lost
in time. The natural disaster causes others: poverty, disease and migration. Every year they
gather their things and leave the village waiting
for the rains to return. While recording the conditions of life, Everardo Gonzalez chronicles an
anticipated but inevitable catastrophe. It uses a
contemplative and static style that testifies to
misfortune and resignation. This work analyzes
the discursive mechanisms of the film to put into
context the conditions of life of this community,
and to propose a political vision of the subject.
Likewise, it raises the analysis of the complete
body of the work by the filmmaker, from which
this movie can be considered as a synthesis of
his rhetorical searches.
Keywords
Documentary; migration; catastrophe; contemplative cinema; drought.
Resumen
Cuates de Australia es la crónica de una catástrofe. Es el nombre de un ejido en el norte de
México, donde las familias del lugar enfrentan
cíclicamente el rigor del estío y sólo resisten
por una tradición difusa, cuyas raíces se pierden en el tiempo. El desastre natural acarrea
otros: la pobreza, la enfermedad y la migración.
Cada año reúnen sus cosas y dejan el pueblo
esperan-do las lluvias para volver. Al registrar las
condiciones de vida, Everardo González hace la
crónica de una catástrofe anticipada pero ineludible. Se vale de un estilo contemplativo y
estático que atestigua la desgracia y la resignación. Esta cinta sintetiza mucho del trabajo
de su director, por ello, este artículo analiza los
mecanismos discursivos de la película, para poner en cuadro las condiciones de vida de esta
comunidad, y para proponer una visión política
del asunto, pero plantea el análisis del cuerpo
completo de la labor del cineasta del que este
filme se puede considerar como un resumen de
sus búsquedas retóricas.
Palabras clave
Documental; migración;
con-templativo; sequía.
catástrofe;
Received: 29-04-2017/ Reviewed: 24-08-2017 / Accepted: 12-12-2017 / Published: 30-12-2017
DOI: 10.5354/0719-1529.2017.45757
cine
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J. Ramírez-Miranda
1. Introduction
The drama of human sciences is that we must consider
human beings as things. And this is not true:
the human is “the other”, and the other is never a thing.
Jean Rouch
Cuates de Australia (2013), is a ranch in the
mountains of the State of Coahuila, in northern Mexico, inhabited by families that,
cyclically face a foreseen catastrophe: when
the summer season hits with full force, the
inhabits survive there thanks only to a diffuse tradition, whose roots are lost in time.
The natural disaster causes others: poverty,
marginalization, recurring disease and finally
migration, which is the only constant for this
population. Once the water runs out, they
gather their belongings and abandon the
town for months, waiting for the rains to return. Thus, the community is left on its own, a
destination that lives with an absolute resignation: “God sends the rains, only he knows
why he hasn’t sent them to us…”, are the
words of a woman in the movie who doesn’t
understand, but accepts the circumstances.
When registering the conditions of life of this
population, Everardo González 1 chronicles a
catastrophe that is paradoxically inevitable,
despite being predictable and reoccurring,
due to its natural origin. As its etymologic
roots suggest, the catastrophe has to do with
that which returns, that turns on itself and,
this way, makes a movement of conversion
and has an outcome that ends in death. The
drought in the population is an event for the
community that suffers it. It is brutal but it is
not sudden; and, although that is one of its
relevant aspects, the one that most interests
the filmmaker is that of the social distress
that it brings. So says Sociologist Lowell Carr:
not every storm, earthquake or flood is a catastrophe; catastrophes are defined by their
work (1932: 211). In this case, by its results.
For his filmic exploration the director relies
on a photographic style that is contemplative,
static and its apparent “nothing’s happening”
is testament to the tragedy and resignation.
This work analyzes the discourse mechanisms
used in the film, to define the particularities
that characterize the life of the community
and, therefore, propose a political vision of
the issue.
At the beginning of Cuates de Australia, the
series of sounds heard remind one of nighttime
in the countryside: crickets and other insects
are the only sign of life present for the audience who can only see a dark screen. Together
with the sound of footsteps, the light of a
lamp goes opening small spaces to one’s view;
thus indicating whoever is holding the lamp is
moving, possibly to show us something. This
movement of a view that opens as it moves is,
largely, what makes Everardo Gonzalez cinema special. But that is just the beginning, and
over such images the opening credits roll. As
the film progresses, the attitude of the men reveals them as nighttime hunters, that fire their
guns and continue their way towards the prey.
The body of a deer constitutes the background
over which the title of the film appears. This beginning is also a manner to express that which
the film wants to speak about: the relation between what is shown, a place that is revealed to
us as marginal, and a particular connection with
life and death.
Cuates de Australia is the fourth feature film
by the filmmaker that has explored different
approaches to the real via the documentary
that, before a format, establishes a central
attitude on the principle of the register and
Approaching the real in Everardo Gonzalez’s cinema
in a relation essentially different to the reality
that the fiction proposes. The documentary is
expressed via the construction of a discourse and uses different forms of approach: from
the distance that creates the memory, from
the place of the testimony as device and, finally, from the participative collaboration of the
documented subject. This distance between
the rhetoric and the real is shown as a big problem, so it is no accident that it is central in
the debates on cinematic theory, at least from
the postwar (Bazin, 1990: 23-32)2.
documentary filmmaker goes approaching his
characters, which the film permits; but the way
this approach is done occurs in different ways,
and thus, different documentary forms.
2. The testimonial register
From him first feature film, La canción del pulque, the filmmaker’s works show ability of testimonial approach. In them, the director observes something that happens, he registers
it and creates a discourse based on making
the audience see something that, until then,
was hidden from view. However, starting with
Los ladrones viejos and especially in El cielo
abierto, he is no longer the witness, but rather
el que recoge el testimonio. The memory of a
distant past is the basis of these films. Therefore, the use of archive material is key.
According to Antonio Weinrichter, “the essence of the documentary is being there, the
register in real time of a situation in reality”,
to directly capture, serve as witness (Weinrichter, 2004: 77). It’s important to remember that
the difference between fiction and nonfiction
is not only based on its intrinsic textual properties, but also in its extrinsic context. But
the connection between intrinsic and extrinsic
is built using a link between the documentary
filmmaker, the spectator, and the discourse
where the real emerges as the center. Carl
Plantinga cites Wolterstorr and his theory of
possible worlds, where he reminds us that in
narration, we are asked to consider a certain
state of things as an imaginative fiction, and
therefore, “adopt the fictional stance in regards to a state of things doesn’t not mean
saying that the state of things is true. It’s not
about asking if its real, it’s not asking it to be
real, it’s not desiring it to be real. It is simply
inviting us to consider said state of things”
(Plantinga, 2014: 39). On the contrary, nonfiction movies are those that affirm that the state
of things they present occurs in the real world.
The nonfiction affirms a belief in thatcertain
objects, entities, states of things, events and
situations really occur or exist in the real world
as presented.
In Cuates de Australia there is a return to testimonio but with an essential difference: the
director atestigua and builds the discourse,
but the inhabitants of that place contribute
more than a testimony. There is an intense
collaboration between the filmed subject and
the filmmaker, that is explained by a process
of compenetración between both. It is not
that this integration did not occur in his previous films, it’s that in Cuates de Australia, the
movie is made possible by it. In his work, the
Trevor Poncha says that “a filmmaker shows
that something happens when he tries to give
the viewer particular perceptions, impressions, beliefs, or certain types of knowledge
as a result of seeing a film or filmed sequences” (Plantinga, 2014: 47). But what is particular about the use of these strategies in nonfiction is that all are used to make statements
about the real world, and the filmmakers take
an assertive stance towards what they present
beyond the rhetoric used. La canción del pul-
The position of filmmaker Everardo Gonzalez
in the films he directs is clear, and in each one
of them it is shown using different formulas. It
is the creation of a documentary via dialogue,
as a construction where the filmmaker can go
giving up ground to the subject that is filmed.
At some time in every one of his films, the filmmaker’s voice interrupts the discourse with a
question reminding the audience that there is
someone behind the camera, that we are in the
presence of something created, and never the
empiric reality.
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Comunicación y Medios N°36 /2017
que (2003) is a movie based on this principle:
the filmmaker takes his place, has presence,
and his camera captures, although the film is
not an automatic re-telling of this register. For
the director, the filming of a documentary is
barely the beginning of a series of decisions
that start with the choice of a topic or story:
“personally I am attracted to stories that present a series of ports of entry and the possibility to build and interpret reality using cinematographic tools. People susceptible to
contradiction and transformations” (González,
2012: 102).
From this point of view, a movie like La canción del pulque submerges you in a particular
environment that inevitably tends to evoke a
time in the past, a remote place in time that,
nevertheless, emerges like present day. The
pulque bar, the scene of action, is like a scene
from the past, a meeting place for “retired bullfighters, boxers…”. So says “Cantarrecio”,
one of the regulars at this place and who the
camera always follows.
In this space, Everardo finds the possibility of
multiple “ports of entry”. It is the intersection
of many stories, the place where the drunks
speak their mind, remember, and spend time
together. There is an old man who tells with
a barely audible voice “there used to be over
60 pulque bars in the city…” a statement that
seems to refer to a time long ago when in
the city there were many bars selling pulque
(an alcohol from the Mexican highlands), but
also a place far away. The movie refers in this
way to Mexico City having countless pulque
establishments, a site of great consumption,
despite the drink being produced in areas far
from the metropolis. In fact, the truth that the
director proposes has to do, in the first place,
with a construction that starts with a close but
distant register. This tension is constantly at
play, between the present day, although decadent, and a series of distances that open in
time and space.
The title of the film is not gratuitous. The
songs that appear throughout the film seek a
sound-track to organize the film space. If in
classic organization, the image organizes the
discourse and the soundtrack serves to evoke
an environment and a past, in this film these
two are switched. While the music organizes,
the image evokes. And this that works in La
canción del pulque is repeated forcefully in
the rest of his filmography.
3. The memory
Using a different outline and supports, Los ladrones viejos (2007) is a film based on a memory in which the testimonies tell the story of
a past that is not only remembered, but upon
doing so, is reconstructed. The characters
re-create the the past, but they do it differently given that they give new meaning to it when
remembering some events while they forget
others and by joining together what is left,
the story changes. Because narrating is organizing, and they, while they narrate the world,
they organize it in a way that it only seems to
exist in their memory.
There is a starting point based on that which
Weinrichter calls “trusting the witness”. In
other words, a format whose verisimilitude
comes exactly from a person who witnessed
the event, who replaces the “being there”
with the memory and the testimony of who
“was there” (Weinrichter, 2004: 43). Everardo
Gonzalez says that, in its origin, the film was
not designed to be a series of testimonies.
Yet, upon finding that all these interviews
were with characters who were in prison, “I
had to change at once and base the narration
on those testimonies. Otherwise the movie
would be permanently making reference to
the prison stories, and what interested me
were the years the robbers were free, the time
of their misadventures” (González, 2012: 97).
As a result, the formal decisions of the documentary production are conditioned by the
thematic content, and reproducing the testimony implies then a commitment to a desire
to say that only in specific ways is the use of
the image set: to the testimony of a remote
past an image is added that reminds of that
Approaching the real in Everardo Gonzalez’s cinema
place in time, so as to put it in the center of
the narration overlapping the present of that
description.
But the filmmaker is not just a mere witness.
As filmmaker, he takes the strands of remembrance, the memories and the reconstructions
in order to formulate a discourse and transmit
certain ideas. Thus, the film reveals a society in
transformation. Plus, throughout the work it is
clear how the ways to committing the profession of robbery have taken on new characteristics and connotations over time. In their memories, these robbers defended the nobility of
their profession, the violence spared and the
corruption to which they, before becoming part
of it, were victim. Therefore, they brag about
having committed serious crimes without using
weapons or other forms of direct aggression.
The contrast between the gratuitous and uncontrolled violence of “today’s criminals” is
easy to see.
This gives way to a reflection on the system
of administration and serving of justice, which,
like the robbers themselves say, only wants
guilty parties, never justice. Therefore, they
emerge as victims of the machine of Mexico’s
government, which brings them to identify
their actions with those of Robin Hood, who
stole from the rich to give to the poor.
In Los ladrones viejos the hero is Efraín Alcaraz Montes de Oca, the Carrizos, whose figure
generates identification and even a liking from
the spectator. However, the filmic structure is
built around the antagonist, Dracula, which in
many ways depends on absence. First, because
he does not appear, except for in a few photos.
Nor does his argument appear, which should
counteract the point of view of Carrizos. Finally, he refuses to give his testimony, leaving it
to be interpreted by the filmmaker and, above
all, the audience, who will judge based on the
proposed discourse.
However, there is a particular use of the archive images: the evocation of a past era and,
with it, presenting the audience with the environment of a special place. In other words,
they’re a way to travel through time, classic
function of the cinematographic device. Plus,
by using the materials of news broadcasts of
previous decades, the film aims to remember the work of other filmmakers, and thus is
included in the homage. The music works in
the same way, but adds a sentiment of nostalgia. Thus, the song Y volveré by the band
Los Ángeles Negros, reoccurring as leit motiv,
speaks of a better past that possibly one day
will come again, “maybe tomorrow the sun
will shine”. It is the lost glory of the old criminals who refuse to lose it all, even though they
only preserve it in their memory.
This constant tension between the past and
present, made possible by the memory and
the archive, has one last purpose: cause the
audience to reflect. Despite the issue of justice being the film’s central theme, there is
not a once-and-for-all explanation for crime.
There is, however, a series of reversals based
on the proximity of the audience to the old,
decadent, abandoned criminals that confess
before the camera. Faces that, close to the
end, go opening the film to multiple explications.
Nevertheless, there is one last gesture: the
image of a news clip from the 70s, where a
woman reporter interviews a small child that is
crying, because an officer has taken from him
the shoeshine box with which he earns money.
To the question “What are you going to do
now? the child answers simply “I’ll just have
to see…”. Here it is no longer about justice
that wants guilty parties, but rather the justice
device that makes people criminals.
4. The use of the archive and cinema as a result
In the history of cinema there is an important production, especially documentary,
that uses stock material, product of a register
done in conditions and with intentions different from those that new material presents.
Behind this reuse is search for verisimilitude,
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Comunicación y Medios N°36 /2017
an argumental effort by way of images that
evoke the real presence, the true register. Although you could say that that recorded in
on tape happened, it doesn’t mean that is all
that happened (given that it is only a part of
if) nor can you confirm or deny its veracity.
Even less so when the mediation between
that filmed and that shown is greater due to
search of what we can call the effect of reality.
According to Georges Didi-Huberman (2013),
an image is a cut made in the visible world that
“burns” when making contact with the reality
from which it comes, upon being drawn from
and, therefore, saved from being forgotten.
Even when it is only about a remnant of what it
once was, its main reason for existing is serve
as memory, survive, “despite everything” and
in different ways. “But, to know it, to feel it,
you have to be brave, you have to approach
the fire and blow softly for the embers below
to fire up once more, their brightness, their
danger. As if, from the gray image, a voice
will come: «Can’t you see I’m burning?»” (Didi-Huberman, 2013: 36). If that is the questioning of the visual standpoint product of a
recent register of the real, “What will ask that
film which they have decided to overlap with
one that is previously manipulated?
If in Los ladrones viejos the use of archive images had the intention of evocation, in El cielo
abierto (2011), it would allow it to not only carry it out, but go one step further; given that,
by playing with these images, a process is
reconstructed that interweaves the historical
events, the personal and filmic development
by way of the recurrence of the testimony.
El cielo abierto shows a predilection to portray social actors in process of transformation.
This film, before the portrayal of the spiritual
leader, is the collection of testimonies of man
and women that, when they show the ins and
outs of their relationship with the cardinal,
are seen immersed in a more personal change, in a political action. It is the same process
in which the prelate is included. As we have
seen, the cinema of Everardo Gonzalez likes
J. Ramírez-Miranda
to show what doesn’t want to be seen, this
film in particular makes a theme out of this situation. El cielo abierto is based on the way in
which a community “makes visible” their problems and in which way they affect and are
affected by the political scene of a country in
convulsion.
It’s true that the memory has a central theme, but the stock material is questioned and
used in a new way and the filmmaker tries to
“ignite” these images also, in a tension between the constructed image and its origin
in reality from which it is taken. In this case,
the problem of the documentary filmmaker is
focused on how to maintain this balance between giving verisimilitude to the discourse
and to the argument that it tries to support
while taking advantage of materials that were
register of other intentions. In other words,
in what way can you conserve the essence of
the documentary, the “being there”, when
the visual argument is testimony of a different past?
The director has structured his film as a requiem mass for Monsignor Arnulfo Romero.
He seeks to reproduce a ritual of sacrifice, but
while he narrates it, he stops and describes the
process of awareness that the leader himself
experienced in his contact with the people. He
experienced a transformation that is truly noteworthy; given that, upon witnessing the real
life conditions of his flock, he distanced himself from the stances of the Catholic hierarchy
and chose the people instead. Said path can
be compared to the process of transformation
of many people that gave testimony, and in the
end, with the effort of the cinema by having
political content: shows to make it known.
The discourse of the Theology of the Liberation
(that, for a portion of the rural population in El
Salvador of the 80s, becomes a more tangible
form of spirituality than the very paradise offered) was a way for the archbishop to have a better approach to that part of the population who
were the country’s poorest. A parallelism can be
established between this form of discourse and
that of the film, which has a manifest intention
Approaching the real in Everardo Gonzalez’s cinema
to create a “simple film”. For Everardo Gonzalez cinema is a result: “my work is not necessarily directed to cinema savvy people. It’s the life I
lead. From this I eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner
and keep myself awake at night. It has become a
way of life; my movies are only a consequence”
(Ramirez, 2011: 25).
5. Participative Collaboration
The distance that the filmmaker establishes
before the audience has to do with something
else: that which is addressed between the director and the film’s characters during filming.
In Cuates de Australia there is a great closeness that is evident in the various moments
of intimacy that the film shows. On the contrary, the first takes of the ranch are distant.
The camera merely observes at a distance, in
a series of establishing shots, he shows the
audience the place they will visit throughout
the documentary. But very soon he contrasts
two images: that of the horses mating and
the testimony of a child about his nightmares,
whose voice is overlapped with the image of
the animals.
In the following scene, a couple sees their
unborn son’s development via an ultrasound,
while the sound let’s you hear the “canto cardenche”, a song of pain that returns at key
moments during the film. It is no coincidence
that its name reminds one of the “cardo”, a
plant with sharp thorns. Strategies of this type
allow the documentary filmmaker to improvise all the time, while showing the life of a
community that, in its daily routine, lives in the
shadow of death upon facing the drought. In
this sense it is a cinema that shows and questions, that depicts and confronts.
Takes are constantly prolonged as if pressing on the viewer a reflection that emerges
from contemplation. An example of this are
some moments from La canción del pulque.
Something that happens in Cuates de Australia, which is different from his earlier films, is
he lets viewers revel in the landscape. Even
more so, the natural beauty of the desert, the
wildlife and vegetation give them the chance
to observe the cycles of nature and the way
in which life in this community plays a part in
them. The lapses make up an approach and
experience that are marked by the contrasting
presence of children and senior citizens throughout the film.
The water problem is connected to the periods
of time and is central to the film. Thus, it emerges as a denouncement of the miserable conditions of life for the inhabitants of this town.
To do so, it does not resort to misery that these
discourses like to do on occasions to appeal. It
is a naturalized condition, internalized. Although every year they must carry out an exodus,
the townspeople always come back, saying
“Where are we going to go?” or as they say at
another opportunity “To own a piece of land,
one must suffer. Why don’t people leave? Because they were born here, they grew up here,
everything here…”.
The image at the almost very beginning of the
film, the one of the pregnancy, is the beginning
of the story of a child, and the drought they
must face is shown as a difficult condition for
him as well, which is indicated by the words of
the doctor: the pregnancy is high-risk. There is
little fluid. The mother’s malnutrition naturally
passes on to the baby. But in addition, this fact
brings us back to the initial problem, the lack
of water.
The difficult life in the desert gets even harder
when the lack of rain brings down the level
of the only water sources. The senior citizens
look for water while the schoolchildren read:
“The children of the city know the ocean well,
but not the earth”. As the documentary goes
on, we see children fighting to not have to
drink that dirty water, which is all they have.
We see animals lose weight. Men get desperate. We see, in the end, stark poverty and we
see, above all, that we don’t want to see.
Once the water is gone, the population must
embark on their annual exodus. The gesture
of closing the door to the empty house an-
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Comunicación y Medios N°36 /2017
nounces the hope of return. Only the camera
remains and is witness to 40total decline and
death. In a scene of tremendous visual impact,
a colt walks along listlessly. It’s been beaten by
the draught and soon will fall to the ground.
Later, the scavenger birds, that are already flying overhead, will take care of its remains.
The following scenes show the fight between
the coyotes and the vultures for the animal
carcasses. The emptiness of the abandoned
city is the place of death in this cycle. Wild nature reclaims its territory via scavenger birds,
coyotes and the swarm of insects in the face
of the human work abandoned and useless.
The takes of the empty houses don’t make but
rather emphasize the fact: the clothes hangers on the line that will not hold anything,
the dresser drawers that have been emptied
in a hurry, the place of absence, that which all
have left behind. Everything, except the camera which continues to record. Some scenes the
cycle closes. Then we see the birth of a baby
in a hospital. The clouds hover over the ranch,
the rain begins and the course of life and death begins again. From water everything will be
born again like the life of the community, and
everyone returns to their home.
The filmmaker enjoys an important level of
rapport with the community, given that only
based on an intense collaboration could you
have the proximity to many characters and
and the register of intimate moments. There
is a relation created between the individuals
and the camera when towards the middle of
the film the argument between two boys escalates, to the degree that it provokes a fight;
the smaller one defends himself by signaling
the presence of the camera. It is true that in
that moment, the camera represents a sanctuary, but it is also certain that the characters
are aware of its presence, as it is made obvious by the signaling of the child. In the end,
the movie insists on the central theme: life
goes on, it always goes on, starts again. But
only they know this, those that are in contact
with the earth, with nature, and are capable,
therefore, of reading its signals.
6. Life goes on
In 1990, Iranian filmmaker Abbas Kiarostami
returned to places that he had filmed in a few
years before during the filming of La casa de
mi amigo. The region had been rocked by
an earthquake and the evidence of devastation was very apparent. Kiarostami filmed La
vida continúa (1992) in this place. It’s a film
that affirms the possibility of an existence that
continues forward despite tragedies, and that
tells the story of a search and discovery to
which the title of the film alludes.
“Life goes on” is what the cinema of Everardo
González seems to say and the sequence of
the Los ladrones viejos close to the end, where
you see the prisoners going about their daily lives, exemplifies it. Life always goes on, even in
prison, even in helplessness, even after death.
But it is not moral resignation like that proposed by a creed. Life goes on because that is its
purpose, to continue. The customers at “La Pirata”, the film’s pulque bar, know that life goes
on, the testimonies indicate this continuity. The
followers whose spiritual leader is killed know
it also, his life survived many other deaths. This
formulation is more evident in Cuates de Australia, where life goes on beyond the tragedy,
the misfortunes, the poverty, because life will
always be born. The cycle ends to start again.
The cycle of life and death.
7. Conclusions: Political cinema
To what degree can this cinema be considered
as political cinema despite the postmodern relativization that “everything is political”? Evidently and as a central theme, these films refer to large problems of man in community. In
other words, politically: access to justice, protection, equality. But also, Jacques Ranciere
(2012) reminds, “a social situation is not enough to politicize art, just as an evident affection
for the exploited and helpless is not enough
to help them” (127). First, to the treatment of
these topics you must add a way to represent
capable of making “that situation intelligible
Approaching the real in Everardo Gonzalez’s cinema
like the effect of certain causes and the muestre productores de formas de conciencia y
afectos that modify it” (Ranciere, 2012: 129).
In Mexico, the long tradition of political and
militant cinema has notable examples; due to
the sum of a topic and a form of expression
has generated an eminently revolutionary and
militant art whose manifest intention is move
the consciences and lead to action and social
change. A good portion of contemporary cinema, while still being political, has abandoned the effort to be explicative and mobilizing. It is a cinema that, upon showing, wants
people to see, and obligates them to do so;
but has lost its unifying, organizing, and explicative spirit, that gave it its politicalness.
Meanwhile new ways of establishing a relation
between art and politics have emerged. The
question is no longer whether the movie is
political or not, but rather in which concrete
way is it, what topics does it address and what
strategies does it use.
Everardo Gonzalez appeals to his viewers in
different ways. As we have seen, throughout
his career, he has employed different types of
approach to the “real” and has expressed a
world while seeking a truth. But it is a cinematographic truth, the only one that cinema can
express. In other words, the documentary filmmaker is conscious of the impossibility of the
art to imitate the world, but it appeals to the
possibility creating a filmic truth. Different from
various decades of tradition in Latin American
cinema, he avoids making exploitive cinema,
making one that is rather of helplessness. The
aesthetic of this art is marked by the exploration of the life of those that have nothing, and
live on the margins of society, but know to continue living. In the pulque bar, in prison, on an
isolated ranch. The subjects filmed by Everardo
González portray the daily effort to survive.
The first political act of cinema has to do with
giving visibility and this cinema makes an
effort to make people see. From there the director brings to the screen situations that are
often absent from it and which he tries not to
take away their dignity. The imprisoned crimi-
nals, who are serving long sentences, are considered in their entirety as subjects. Everardo
refuses to call them “his characters”, and thus
avoids objectifying them and, this way, maintains their humanity. Possibly following the
statement made by French filmmaker and anthropologist Jean Rouch, that is the epigraph
of this article: “the human is the “other” and
the other is never a thing”.
Said phrase summarizes one of the most important aspects of his praxis: his opening to the people (a result of his training as an anthropologist
and admiration of the work of Robert Flaherty)
and, as a result, the reduction of the distance
between director and filmic subject. Characteristics with those that innovated the work of
ethnographic filmmakers, giving their films an
important place in the history of cinema (Henley, 2009: 310-339). These last few, as well as his
written works, make up the legacy of Rouch to
the documentary filmmakers that, like Everardo
Gonzalez, seek to have a representation based
on approach in time and space to those individuals whose lives they want to emphasize.
Thus, via different ways, the work of the director
of Cuates de Australia establishes relations with
the real, part of the testimony, based on the
memory, archive and collaboration to express a
vision of the world that implies a strong political stance. A vision of justice, a standpoint that
wants people to see the problems of the communities he observes. This cinema opens something real to the view of the audience, gives
visibility to a world in conflict and talks about human problems while saying, despite everything,
life goes on, it always goes on.
Notes
1.
Everardo González is a Mexican filmmaker
born in 1971 and trained at the Centro de Capacitación Cinematográfica, where he made his first film
in 2003 (La canción del pulque). Since then he has
made a career in Mexican documentaries that have
won him various awards, like the Ariel Award given
by the Academia Mexicana de las Ciencias y Artes
Cienematográficas among many others.
41
42
J. Ramírez-Miranda
Comunicación y Medios N°36 /2017
2. In his Ontología de la imagen cinematográfica
(1990), André Bazin put emphasis on the tension between reality and image based on the “manipulation”
that classic cinema had created as a rhetorical vehicle.
From this emerged two types of filmmakers, those
that believe in the image and those that believe in
reality. To an extent, this text is the basis for a series
of debates that cinematographic theory had to address in the following decades and that give way to
an intense discussion regarding the statute of reality
in cinema.
Bibliographic References
Bazin, A. (1990). What Is Cinema? Madrid: Ediciones Rialp.
Carr, L. J. (1932). Disaster and the Sequence-Pattern Concept of Social Change. American Journal of Sociology, 38(2), 207-218. Recuperado de: http://www.jstor.org/
stable/2766454
Gonzalez, E. (2012). The Fortune. In T. Huezo (coord.), The trip… routes and roads taken
to arrive to other planets. México: Centro de Capacitación Cinematográfica.
Henley, P. (2009). The Adventure of the Real. Jean Rouch and the craft of ethnographic
cinema. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press.
Didi-Huberman G. (2013). When images touch the real. Madrid: Círculo de Bellas Artes.
Plantinga C. (2014). Rhetoric and representation in nonfiction cinema. México: Universi-dad Nacional Autónoma de México.
Ramirez G. (30 de agosto de 2011). Cinema as a result, interview with Everardo Gonzalez.
Frente (22).
Rancière, J. (2012). The distances of cinema. Buenos Aires: Ediciones Manantial.
Weinrichter, A. (2004). Deviations from the real. Madrid: T & B Editores.
About the author:
Francisco Javier Ramírez Miranda has an undergraduate in Communication Sciences,
Masters and Doctorate in Art History from UNAM. Research professor of Art History undergraduate program at UNAM. Author of the book “Ibargüengoitia va al cine” (Universidad de Guanajuato, 2013). Director of the cinematographic analysis journal Montajes,
Revista de Análisis Cinematográfico.
How to Cite:
Ramírez-Miranda, F. (2017). Aproximaciones a lo real en el cine de Everardo González.
Comunicación y Medios, (36), 33-42.
www.comunicacionymedios.uchile.cl