MikePadgett.com

• Director: Alfonso Cuarón
• Mexico, 2001
• 

What’s odd about Y Tu Mamá También is how it can be so many things all at once: a road movie, a coming of age comedy, a sexy love story, a political critique. By way of illustration, this latter motif peppers the movie: there are soldiers and police and beggars and put-upon peasants. Somewhat oddly, however, the three characters who take us on their Mexican odyssey seem never to notice what’s out there.

The business of explanation is left to a kindly narrator whose voiceover comes right out of a Jean-Pierre Jeunet movie. He seems to encourage us not to judge Julio, Tenoch and Luisa too harshly, instead coughing up furballs of pathos that stockpile the humanity in a way two teenage bums and a broken-hearted ague could never do.

Let us make no mistake, this film is a coquettish charmer. We absolutely have to love it, because it loves life and so must we. Here the relentless positivity and positive absurdity of the youthful condition reunite us with that sense of adventure that grows harder to maintain the older we become.

• Director: Joel Coen; Ethan Coen
• United States, 2007
• 

It’s probably fair to say that the Coen brothers had been off their game for a few years. Since 2000’s O Brother Where Art Thou, we’ve had to swallow a lukewarm homage to film noir and a couple of flaccid big studio pictures. With No Country, the brothers are back in town. Yet whilst some Coen trademarks are here in abundance (tight plotting, expansive landscapes) others are noticeably muted (black humour, rich dialogue).

The story is propelled by three characters who never meet until the ends of their respective arcs. When they do meet, there is no interplay. Llewelyn Moss (Josh Brolin) is the central figure, a ne’er do well who happens on a disastrous drug deal and its cash bag. Tracking him is the sociopathic hitman Anton Chigurh who’s no longer focused on the hit. Trailing both is the bemused veteran Sheriff Bell (Tommy Lee Jones) who, as our link to the protagonists, finds such ‘modern’ crimes unfathomable. Woody Harrelson also pops up in a small, scene-stealing role as another hitman dispatched to bring down Chigurh.

This latest effort from the Coens is vintage stuff. Rather than relying so heavily on script, the distinctive sharp taste comes from pure acting and Javier Bardem’s masterful, Oscar-worthy turn as Chigurh drives the film with a crackling, frightening energy. Like the ‘cattlegun’ with which he dispenses people and door locks, Chigurh’s violence is drastic, suddenly explosive yet always controlled. As a result, the always-vacant look in his eyes is something to be feared.

• Director: Julie Taymor
• United States, 2002
• 

Frida is almost brilliant. For a start, it has to be one of the most beautifully shot films this decade, thanks in no small part to the prodigal cinematographer Rodrigo Prieto who adds these triumphant visuals to his impressive list (Babel, Brokeback Mountain, 21 Grams, Amores Perros). Elliot Goldenthal’s soundtrack, enhanced by onscreen contributions from Lila Downs and Chavela Vargas, is rich and memorable.

What’s remarkable about Frida Kahlo’s art is that it uniquely expresses her internal self, representing multiple emotions often with some extra element that quietly disturbs. This film has all of that visual impact but lacks the emotional bite, leaving the art itself to fill key dramatic moments. It’s a bold tactic that doesn’t quite come off.

Salma Hayek’s portrayal of the Mexican artist is solid but the script, by Taymor and Edward Norton, doesn’t really stretch her enough and the peppering of rather conspicuous gringo dialogue in her part leaves a bitter taste. After two hours of beautiful images, I was left wondering, but for the wrong reasons.

As my interest in world music continues to develop, some names come up increasingly often.

Though I had heard only snippets of her music, the voice of cantante mexicana Lila Downs persuaded me to grab a couple of tickets for this rare appearance. My hunch seems to have paid off!

Ms Downs, the daughter of an American father and a Mexican mother, digs deep into the Indian traditions of the Oaxaca region and, it would seem, the recesses of her own soul.

With a composite of multinational session musicians, she managed to thrill her small audience with an extraordinary vocal range that went from heartbreak to extreme joy and even frivolity, often in the same song.

Downs danced merrily through the old standard Quizas, Quizas, Quizas, breathed extra vitality into Indian dance rhythms and even left room for social comment with a paean to itinerant Mexican workers.

After a loud encore, Lila and band left the stage at Harrogate Theatre bound for WOMAD and I fancy many of us wished those energetic 90 minutes could have lasted all night.

• Director: Alejandro González Iñárritu
• US/Mexico, 2006
• 

I always look forward to a new instalment of the González / Arriaga filmmaking partnership. Babel is undoubtedly their grandest effort to date and it’s probably their weakest, but a flawed González movie is still extraordinary.

Babel has been described as the first film about globalisation: four stories from around the world interconnect to form a parable about love and consequences.

Whilst the narrative is uneven and binds together only with some difficulty, the whole product is visually thrilling and there are some stand-out performances, particularly in the Mexican sequences.