Tag Archives: El Esqueleto de la Señor Morales

In Conversation with Prof. Dolores Tierney on MUBI’S Spectacle Every Day: The Many Seasons of Mexican Cinema

Richard and I have been much impressed and greatly entertained by MUBI’s programme of Mexican genre films: Spectacle Every Day — The Many Seasons of Mexican Cinema.

We’ve already podcast on each film individually:

Trotacalles/ Streetwalker (Matilda Landate, 1951)

Mas fuerte que el amor/ Stronger Than Love (Tulio Demicheli, 1955)

El esqueleto de la Señora Morales/ The Skeleton of Mrs. Morales  (Rogelio A. Fernández, 1960)

El Espejo de la bruja/ The Witch’s Mirror (Chano Urueta, 1962)

La Mujer murcielago (René Cardona, 1968)

Spectacle Every Day: The Many Seasons of Mexican Cinema is, however,  a programme that continues to fascinate so we’ve asked Dolores Tierney, Professor in Film and Media at the University of Sussex  to come talk to us, contextualise the programme, and highlight issues that arise from from it and that might enhance our understanding of Mexican Cinema in general and these films in particular.

It might be worth bearing in mind that MUBI”s selection is culled from the Locarno Film Festival’s second retrospective of Mexican cinema — the first was in 1957 — this past August.  The Locarno programme was curated by Olaf Möller with the participation of Roberto Turigliatto and brought together 36 films spanning the 1940s to the 1960s, many of them little known outside Mexico. The focus of our discussion is MUBI’s selections, currently 5 of the 36 films shown in Locarno.

 

As you can see below, Professor Tierney has published widely on Mexican Cinema:

 

In the podcast we praise Trotacalles and discuss why Matilda Landate isn’t better known, Prof. Tierney explains how Mexican cinema was a transnational cinema almost from its beginnings and how its film industry benefited from the US’s geo-political policies in relation to propaganda over its rival Argentina, who was seen as being too sympathetic or at least nonchalant towards Germany.  We talk about Mexican Golden Age Cinema and how this program benefits from highlighting genre, exploitation and cult films. A sparkling talk, generating thought, highlighting links between elements that might seem disparate (Batman and Lucha Libre), and inspiring further viewing of Mexican cinema. The podcast may be listened to here:

The podcast may  also be listened to on Spotify here: https://open.spotify.com/show/2zWZ7Egdy6xPCwHPHlOOaT

and on itunes here: https://podcasts.apple.com/gb/podcast/first-impressions-thinking-aloud-about-film/id1548559546

Prof Tierney has also provided this note with references:

 

Podalsky, Laura (1994) “Negotiating Differences: National Cinemas and Co-productions in Pre-Revolutionary Cuba” Velvet Light Trap 34, 59-70.

Talks about the early 1930s Cuban films made by PECUSA and about the 1940s onwards co-productions with Mexico like Mas fuerte que el amor (Tulio Demicheli, 1955), how involvement with the Mexican industry was the only the only way Cuban productions could really continue. From the mid to late 1940s Mexican Cinema (mostly its cabaret based melodramas – the cabareteras) had been featuring Cuban dancers/actresses (Maria Antonieta Pons, Ninon Sevilla) and famous musicians (Rita Montaner, others) who had migrated there for work. Cuban filmmakers without resources in Cuba (PECUSA had sold off all the Cuban studio equipment/buildings) had to reach out to Mexico, Argentina and Spain to fund co-productions.

 

Rashkin Elissa (2001) Women Filmmakers in Mexico: The Country of Which We Dream

I was referring to her book where she writes about Landeta.

 

I didn’t refer to Ana Lopez’ work on travelling filmmakers – but when I talked about Tulio Demicheli I was going to talk about other travelling directors from Argentina like Carlos Hugo Christensen (who Ana wrote about) who were invited around different countries in Latin America to make films, so Demicheli’s invitation to Cuba was not so unusual.

Lastly Prof. Tierney also highlighted Mexican Cinema BFI: London, 1995 ed. Paulo Antonio Paranagua (trans. by Ana M. Lopez).

 

José Arroyo