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DRAMA/MEX
Written & Directed by: Gerardo Naranjo.
Produced by: Gabriel García, Miriana Moro & Santiago Paredes.
Director of Photography: Tobias Datum.
Edited by: Yibrán Asuad.
Released by: IFC First Take.
Country of Origin: Mexico. 93 min. Not Rated.
With: Fernando Becerril, Miriana Moro, Juan Pablo Castañeda, Diana Garcia, Emilio Valdés & Montserrat Lastra.

Gerardo Naranjo’s Drama/Mex tells two stories concurrently taking place in close proximity to a rundown hotel in Acapulco – both full of hot air, typical of shoestring independent productions, American or Mexican or otherwise. It’s a slog to sit through due to a lack of what has to be paramount for a production with few resources: a believable script and competent direction.

Fernanda (Diana Garcia) is having a passionate affair with the devilish Chano (Emilio Valdes). He has come back into her life after skipping town with a load of her father’s money. She also has to contend with her current boyfriend Gonzalo (Juan Pablo Castañeda), who has only one, angry “where is Fernanda and what is she doing” mindset. Unbeknownst to him, Fernanda plans to run away with Chano to Mexico City or wherever.

Jaime (Fernando Becerril), an ordinary office worker, one day just leaves his family without any word and arrives in Acapulco to commit suicide. Tigrillo (Miriana Moro), a very young prostitute, eyes Jaime and befriends him on the day he plans to kill himself.

Of the two stories, the one involving Jaime and Tigrillo has a couple of interesting moments when the two of them are sitting around talking, revealing each is using the other for a brief escape from their intentions – one from suicide and the other from “business.” But even the scenes of Jaime nearing suicide remain predictable because of the naive nature of the script. The possibilities in Jaime’s motivation, aside from the rote suburban malaise of countless indie dramas, are left out.

But at least there are a few moments of promise in that storyline. The love triangle has very little. There’s no reason to care about any one, not the sluttish Fernanda or the would-be Brando, Chano, or the horridly one-note Gonzalo, who’s big moment of professing love comes with singing a sweet mariachi song, band included.

All of the material is made much less convincing by the style, characterized by a grainy digital hand-held camera that not once stands still on an actor. Through so many close-ups, one intimately becomes familiar with a nostril rather than a character. And no matter how much Naranjo tries to be Cassavetes by depicting broken and dysfunctional people, he backfires by not having enough complexities within the characters and the acting, or a fresh approach with the camera. Jack Gattanella
July 11, 2007