Eros and Thanatos

Never have I experienced such a skilled commingling of the ethereal and the worldly, the erotic and the banal, the imaginary and the real as I did while viewing "Y Tu Mama Tambien" ("And Your Mother Too"), a Mexican film directed by
Alfonso Cuaron. This roadtrip romp gone pensive has earned high marks for its ability to enthrall and has also elicited admonishment for its raw sexual themes and scenes. It often stands as a sort of anti-"Amelie"-- a celebration of the base rather than the saccharine-- but somehow reaches a similar mystical plateau.

The filmmaking here is captivating, from panoramic landscape shots, to underwater time-stopping moments, to fleeting glances at tear-stained faces. Cuaron understands the intricacies of perspective and the ruggedness of life and captures both in his execution. When the three characters ride along in the car, we are with them, blinded by sun and dizzy with motion. Especially strong is the way in which Cuaron repeatedly frames his shots; one that stands out in particular is a peeping-tom shot of the female lead framed by jagged broken glass.

The plot? Well, two recent sexed-up high school graduates, caught in the clutches of boredom after their girlfriends have taken off for a tour of Italy, find themselves in a hey-we-might-get-lucky road trip with the twenty-something and very sexy (in a simply-wholesome-yet-completely-alluring kind of way) wife of one of their cousins. Tenoch Iturbide (played by Diego Luna) and Julio Zapata (played by Gael García Bernal) wonder how things could possibly get any better as they pack their bags, pick up Luisa (Cortés, played by Maribel Verdú) and hit the road. Luisa, by the way, has just received a late-night admission of infidelity from her husband, an omen which seems the catalyst for her decision to disappear with Tenoch and Julio.

The film is replete with sometimes subtle but often blatant social statements (the boys come from different economic classes/backgrounds) and political implications. The use of voice-over omniscient narration (by Daniel Jimenez Cacho, star of Cuaron's breakthrough 1991 film, "Solo Con Tu Pareja") may seem interruptive to some (reminiscent of "Amelie"'s narrator; the voice literally silences the film's sound), but I found it completely conjoined with the film's message about the interruptions to our lives that we can neither predict nor control. The political and social history lends authenticity to the film and actually weighs it down with serious notions and whispers of unrest-- suggestions that point to the somber tone of the denoument.

The boys convince Luisa to take this trip to an imagined beach called "Heaven's Mouth"-- a fictional haven meant only to be part of a momentary joke. I found this set-up to be the most thought-provoking part of the film. The narrator points out how Julio just pulled onto any dirt road he could find after they'd been on the road for days since he couldn't exactly find a place that didn't exist. Magically-enough, just over a knoll is a placid, untouched spot, and they find out from a local tour guide named Chuy (whom they befriend) that they have arrived at an actual place called "Heaven's Mouth." This moment is dismissed with a chuckle by the characters, but it stuck with me. Perhaps the writers are suggesting that the notions created in our minds are often more real than we think. The beach's very moniker, though, suggests something more significant-- perhaps a passage to some ethereal other-life beyond this mundane world full of betrayals and void of affirmation.

WARNING: PLOT SPOILER in this graph-- so stop reading if you don't want to know where these three end up. Heaven's Mouth, a paradise on earth, seems even more poignant in light of the fact that Luisa is dying. I have to say that this plot detail is hard to miss since the narrator points out early on-- albeit in a fleeting moment-- that she has just received some results from medical tests. For an instance I considered that she might take her own life or that the test results foretold her infertility (she mothers Chuy's two children with absolute ease and grace), but the film led right where I expected. The two teens meet (unplanned and out of obligation) a year later for coffee and Tenoch tells Julio that Luisa died just months after their trip-- from cancer. Her tears were not mere manifestations of her disappointment in her husband's infidelity, but of her impending demise. "Heaven's Mouth" is figured as her entrance to paradise, a gaping maw, her peaceful transition to another world as she nears death.

I should also mention that Luisa ends up sleeping with each teen once and, ultimately, the three sleep together-- an experience which turns out to be more about the two boys experiencing each other rather than Luisa. The three are focused on sex but have different reasons and needs for their fixations. Freud (if I'm remembering my basic psychology correctly) defines life's two major instincts as eros and thanatos, or life (sex being primary) and death (a drive, or "death wish"). His ideas are strong underpinnings here, as the pleasure principle is put into effect; the three leads (Luisa especially) demonstrate a need to maximize their instinctual gratification without regard to external reality. Sex, for Luisa, is instant pleasure that erases the threat of her cancer and allows her to thrive in the moment. Although the boys are more interested in pure grunting, grinding orgasms, the impact of their union with Luisa reveals itself eventually.

"Y Tu Mama Tambien" mixes the sordid with the heavenly. It mixes up the past with the present and hints at the future, and it underscores rampant randomness as lives unfold. It makes pleasure more central while simultaneously making death less sardonic. If you can get beyond its rawness and candor, you will partake in a journey of binaries that leaves you boldly facing both titilating fantasies and looming horrors.