(no subject)
Comparison of Chulas Fronteras and El Mojado
In discussion of the Borderland Documentary
At first, after watching both Chulas Fronteras and El Mojado, I thought El Mojado might meet Charles Ramirez Berg's criteria for Borderland Documentary. I watched it several times in succession, letting a different part of it come to my attention each time, aplying his criteria to what I saw, what I experienced while watching, and the notes I took, and saw a case for it as a documentary about the border, but not a Borderland Documentary.
Berg contends that the Borderland Documentary represents the post-modern experience of the bicultural citizen of the borderlands of Mexico and the United States, and can be recognized by certain traits:
• Double-coding and contradictions, or the experiencing of self as being not Mexican or American, but Mexican and American.
• Hybridity, or a quality of transcending national borders
• An "Ironic attitude toward History, Tradition, and Memory"- in other words, "…knowledge of the past depends on who is asking the questions, and who is answering them." (Berg)
• An oppositional stance to the assumed 'Master narrative' of the dominant culture's version of history, culture, and experience
• An 'incoherent narrative'- a story that starts and stops and turns from place to place in itself in reflection of the way Chicanos and Latinos experience life in the borderland: not in a straight line, but in relation to everything else that is going on around them.
He further states that some Borderland Documentaries, like Chulas Fronteras, while seeming to retain a more structured narrative, meet the criteria because the content meets the criteria- the content is the lived experience of residents of the borderlands, and is thus full of contradictions, hybrid-ness, irony, opposition, and a non-linear narrative by its nature.
When I apply my understanding of Berg's criteria to El Mojado, a very rough film made with much raquaschismo, I find it is not a Borderlands Documentary but a true documentary about life lived crossing the border between Mexico and New Mexico.
First, to subject matter: Chulas Fronteras is about Norteño music, or Conjuntos, along the nearly 2000-mile long border (IBWC), the people who keep it alive, and the culture it supports. The word "conjunto" means, variously, "joint," "collection," "group,"- all words indicating connection, shared experience, and variety (wordreference.com). Contrasted with this, El Mojado is about the sole experience of one man, Eddie, on his annual walk from Northern Chihuahua to New Mexico (to stay with and work with the film-maker and his friend, Danny Lyons): it is linear and individual.
Chulas Fronteras discusses the history of conjunto music, its origins in both European polkas and waltzes and the ranchera music developed on the ranches and in the countryside of Northern Mexico from traditional folk music and mariachi music of the post-revolutionary period. Conjuntos are about love, honor, patriotism, pride (not of country but of culture- "I am Mexican AND I am American at the same time" is a theme in many songs), and nature. The conjunto sound is distinguished by the button accordion of European immigrants to the American Southwest, and the bajo sexto or 12-string bass guitar of Northern Mexico. It is by its nature hybrid music, something new created from elements of each parent.
El Mojado discusses the difficult journey across the border, and, to use the filmmaker's words, "…whole unbelievable world of illegal aliens." There is nothing joined or created in Eddie's walk across the desert and the mountains: it is his sole experience of passing from a country where he belongs to one where he does not. He is alone when he gets water from remote water tanks to fill his one-gallon milk jug for the next leg of his journey; he is alone as he walks over the mountains in an effort to leave no tracks for the border patrol. Even in an informal migrants' camp along the way, he is alone. He leaves the small barracks to the others there who talk about their various experiences with being caught and sent back -the culture of those whose lives consist of being caught by the border- to continue his solitary walk across it.
Where Chulas Fronteras confirms over and over a culture that defines itself by its hybrid nature, by its recognition of its own history independent of either Mexico's or the United States', by continuing creation of its own culture from parts of each and the passing down of that culture from elders to children at parties, through records and radio, and in family stories, El Mojado is defined by the contrast between the border agent's negative attitudes toward and rough behavior with immigrants from the South, and the immigrants' efforts to achieve work in the US, which is seen as a good place to work despite the difficulty of getting and staying there.
Although Chulas Fronteras has, to some extent, the feel of a traditional documentary with talking heads and subtitles and voiceovers, one could argue with Berg that because the content is oppositional, describes the double-coding of conjunto music, its hybrid culture, contains an ironic sense of history and place, and even an incoherent narrative in the songs themselves (songs with beautiful upbeat or romantic melodies, about mal hombres and unfaithful lovers) it performs the function of a Borderland Documentary. And, while El Mojado is roughly made, its shoestring budget and, of necessity, amateur qualities readily apparent, it conforms to the shape of a traditional documentary: it tells a story, in a straight line, using facts and real life. There is no fantasy in it, no imagination. It is what it presents itself to be: one man's walk across the border.
Chulas Fronteras opens in the middle of an event: four men using a rope-ferry to carry a U.S.-plated pick-up truck across a river. A small plane flies overhead; we are shown the border rivers on a map with towns across from each other, American on the north, Mexican on the south. Canción Mixteca plays in the background full of feeling, with accordion and bajo sexto:
Que lejos estoy del suelo.
Donde he nacido.
Inmensa nostalgia invade.
Mi pensamiento.
Y al verme tan solo y triste.
Cual hoja al viento.
Quisiera llorar.
Quisiera morir de sentimento.
¡Oh!tierra del sol.
Suspiro por verte.
Ahora que lejos.
Yo vivo sin luz, sin amor...(radiobiligue.org)
(Translation below)
As the men ferry the truck across the river to a song about being 'so far from where I was born I could die,' what we see is that they're used to doing this- they move across the border by a combination of physical labor and ingenuity, laughing and joking amongst themselves about it. They are at home here- this is their culture; these are their lives, lived in space co-incidental with the border. Near the end of the film a song says, in English and Spanish, "Mexican by heritage, American by destiny: I am of the golden race. I am Mexican-American. I know English and speak Spanish. I am of the noble race. I am Mexican-American."
In contrast, El Mojado opens to the sound of footsteps on sand over a poster showing what look, at first, to be the soles of shoes, but are later shown to be a recognition chart of different kind of shoe imprints- foot prints- for recognizing trails. We meet a man at a water tank in the desert, watch him shave in a piece of metal mirror, while a border guard in voiceover says "They'll climb trees, go in trees, go in people's houses- that's what makes it hard- you got to go in at three in the morning and wake them up and tell them there's a wetback in their house." Very economically we are told that the man in the desert treats himself with dignity and respect, keeping clean, pursuing his goal, while the border patrol agent sees him as -at best- a creature to be warned against, a dangerous invader who causes nothing but trouble. This clearly explicates the U.S. /WASP master narrative, which is confirmed when the border guard says, "It's like being a hunter, but you're stalking human beings, and that's a lot more fun." Wherever border crossers are caught, they are subjected to an arrogant, dehumanizing questioning of their motives, purpose, history, rights of possession of their things, and culture, as filmed in border patrol offices. This is contrasted with the man's careful conscientious artisanal work on an adobe house when he reaches his destination.
Although the two films do make use of similar tools: people speaking in both English and Spanish with subtitles in the other language as needed, talking heads, and footage of actual events, Chulas Fronteras has the feel of one of the songs profiled in it: both Mexican and American, and something new created of both, existing outside of and despite the border and its rules, while El Mojado is the straight story, from start to finish, of a man's journey across the border, even to its ending as he walks down out of the mountains and into the sun, tool box in one hand and gallon jug of water in the other. The conjunto singers and their families are people of the borderland and its distinct culture, while the walker is not. He's a man with a purpose that requires him to cross the border, bring who he is and what he knows by right of being Mexican to the other side, by whatever means he can, but he is not a man of the border. Thus, I would argue that Berg's criteria could be used to define Chulas Fronteras, despite its rather formal format, as a borderland documentary, while El Mojado for all its raquaschismo is a documentary about the border and its effect on one man's life.
References
Chulas Fronteras (1976) Dir. Les Blank
El Mojado/The Wetback (1974) Dir. Danny Lyons
http://www.wordreference.com/es/en/translation.asp?spen=conjunto accessed 2 November 2008
International Boundary and Water Commission. http://www.ibwc.state.gov/ accessed 2 November 2008
http://www.mp3lyrics.org/m/mariachi-vargas-de-tecalitlan/cancion-mixteca/ Accessed 2 November 2008
http://www.radiobilingue.org/archive/02_10_20_radiogivesmixtecs.htm Accessed 2 November 2008
English translation of Canción Mixteca
How far I am from the land where I was born
Immense sadness fills my thoughts
I see myself so alone and so sad
Like a leaf in the wind
I would like to cry I would like to die
From the feeling
Land of the sun
I long to see you
Now that I live so far from your light, without love…
Thanks to poetic_self, foxrafer and stormatdusk for proof-reading and editing help, and moral support.