Maya Indie: All She Can

Weightlifting is one of those sports most people only pay attention to during the Olympics—and even then, not so much. That is something of a problem for Luz Garcia. Since it is not an official varsity sport at UT, the only scholarship money available goes to the winner of the Texas State meet. She will be hitting the gym hard in Amy Wendel’s All She Can (formerly known as Benavides Born at Sundance this year), which is currently screening in New York as part of the traveling Maya Indie Film Series (trailer here).

Garcia competes in the lightweight division, so you would hardly know she bench-presses like a monster from looking at her. She also has solid grades, but her mother’s questionable finances have undermined her hope for financial aid. Scared of taking on more debt, no family member will co-sign a student loan for her. About the only person in her largely Hispanic Texas town who is not enthusiastic about the military, Garcia starts to consider ways to get an added additional edge. That might not help her anger management issues much.

ASC might sound like a clean-and-jerk Rocky, but it does not climax with the big meet. Instead, it flounders about for a while, as Garcia struggles for redemption. Part of that process involves assisting an illegal and her son reunite with her husband in San Antonio. Indeed, it seems Garcia’s actions are intended as a conscious censure of the well-established Mexican-American community, exemplified by her brother-in-law Luis, whom viewers are clearly supposed to be scandalized by their unaccommodating response to illegal immigration. However, when Wendel cranks down the didacticism, ASC and Garcia begin to find themselves, embracing a new sense of personal responsibility and straightening out her life trajectory with the wise counsel of reasonable adults.

Corina Calderon has the right look for the film—attractive but not delicate. She is a compelling presence, even during the melodramatic detour. Julio César Cedillo’s Coach Chapa is also an engaging figure. Indeed, he is a rare movie animal: an authority figure with dedication and integrity. Yet, perhaps Joseph Julian Soria stands out the most for his dynamic, richly nuanced turn as Luis, even if the film is rather ambivalent about his character’s work ethic and respect for law.

Once viewers understand ASC is following the indie template rather than the crowd-rousing sports movie model, they will largely know where it is headed. Still, there are some honest moments and very well developed performances to be found along the way. A pretty good film when not desperately trying to be topical, All She Can screens at the Quad Cinema in New York, once a day through this coming Thursday (8/4), as part of the Maya Indie Film Series.

Maya Indie: Where the Road Meets the Sun

People who live in hostels are generally there for a good reason. Most are broke. Others are hiding from their pasts, while a few are simply head-splittingly annoying. Tenants from three different countries represent each particular profile in Mun Chee Yong’s Where the Road Meets the Sun (trailer here), which screens for a week in New York as part of the traveling Maya Indie Film Series.

After waking up from a long-term coma, the mysterious Takashi is still trying to forget the trauma that precipitated his accident. With nothing tying him down in Tokyo, he sets off for Los Angeles, crashing at the hostel managed by Blake, a transplanted New Yorker. The grizzled proprietor is also haunted by memories of the one that got away or more precisely, the wife he dumped. Definitely counting as broke, Julio is in the U.S. illegally, trying to raise enough money to bring over his family. That leaves Guy, a British party punk, as the obnoxious one.

As somewhat kindred souls, Takashi and Blake become fast friends. Despite his better judgment, Julio also finds himself hanging with Guy. Things will work out far better for one pair of improvised friends than for the other. While women play an important role in the film, few are seen save for fragmentary flashbacks, except for the bright and attractive Sandra, who seems too grounded and together to be staying in Blake’s dive.

In truth, the storyline involving Takashi works considerably better than the other intertwined strands. While the character taps into the archetype of the disgraced wandering warrior (or yakuza), Witchblade’s Will Yun Lee (technically Korean-American, but so be it) still expresses genuine human remorse and regret. Conversely, Julio’s storyline is often awkwardly didactic, but Fernando Noriega nails some pointed scenes dressing down Guy for playing the dilettante illegal alien. Indeed, if Luke Brandon Field was going cringe-inducing irritation, his Guy succeeds spectacularly. At least his character knows where to take a lady for a memorable first date (see picture).

Sort of like a skid-row version of Grand Hotel, California-based Singaporean filmmaker Mun Chee Yong deftly balances her ensemble cast in Road, perhaps displaying a slight favoritism towards Julio and Guy. Still, despite the politicized naturalism of the former’s tribulations, she never lets the proceedings get too maudlin. Ultimately though, it is Takashi, a finely drawn character memorably brought to life by Lee, who redeems the film. While hardly required viewing, Road has its moments of merit for those who wish to check it out during the Maya Indie Film Series, kicking off this Friday (7/29) in New York at the Quad Cinema.

Maya Indie: Without Men

In the sleepy Latin American village of Mariquita, the battle of the sexes is over. Essentially, the women have won by default. A win is still a win though. Indeed, it allows the new mayor to institute some radical changes in Gabriela Tagliavini’s Without Men (trailer here), which screens for a week in New York as part of the traveling Maya Indie Film Series.

One fateful day, a band of Marxist guerillas arrive to liberate Mariquita. This entails shooting the mayor and forcibly impressing the rest of the village’s males into their ranks. Only the horndog priest is left behind in this village of supermodels. Rosalba should be the most distraught, since it was her husband who was executed. However, he was an unfaithful dog of a man, so good riddance. As she was always the brains behind his administration, she wastes no time in assuming office. Unfortunately, the rest of the village is at loose ends.

The first half of Without Men is likely to cause apoplexy among any women vaguely identifying as feminists. Incapable of even changing a light bulb on their own, the women of Mariquita basically sit around pining for some sexual healing. Naturally, to offend the Catholics in the audience, Father Rafael cons them all into believing the Holy Spirit has called him to ensure procreation continues unabated. Yet, once they boot him out of town (for running out of mojo), they start building a feminist utopia. This all sounds like a good story the gonzo reporter who supplies the film’s framing device.

About ten seconds of internet research will reveal Eva Longoria makes out with another woman in Without Men. In fact, lesbianism becomes a major theme of the film. Even the great Maria Conchita Alonso gets in on the act. Frankly, her presence alone makes one far more predisposed to like the film. A truth-teller who has criticized the oppressive Chavez regime in her native Venezuela and its Hollywood cheerleaders, the film’s anti-Communist prologue must have appealed to her. However, aside from the general helpings of naughtiness (but nothing explicit), Without Men is fairly insubstantial.

In fact, Oscar Nuñez’s shtick as Father Rafael really is pretty offensive. Eva Longoria is game enough as the type-A Rosalba, but Kate del Castillo is rather pedestrian as her butchy new love interest. Frankly, they are both outshined by the dazzling Yvette Yates and Fernanda Romero, who have little to do except look hot, but they do that well. Christian Slater recycles his familiar slickster screen persona as the reporter likably enough, but Camryn Manheim is just embarrassing as his potty-mouthed boss.

Given all the teasing going on, the net result is certainly watchable. Tagliavini keeps everything bright and colorful, always showing his cast at the most flattering light. Ideologically, it is something of a mish-mash, which in itself is not necessarily a bad thing. There just is not much to it though, aside from Longoria’s scenes of you-know-what. One of the weaker installments of the Maya Indie Series, Without Men screens at the Quad Cinema in New York, once a day for a week starting this Friday (7/29-8/4).

Maya Indie: Forged

Jesus “Chuco” Barrera has committed all kinds of thuggish felonies. Yet, it was an unplanned crime of passion that sent him up the river. It also devastated the life of his son Machito in William Wedig’s Forged (trailer here), which screens for a week in New York as part of the traveling Maya Indie Film Series.

It a fit of possibly substance-heightened jealous rage, Barrera shot his wife, in the face, at point blank range, in front of his young son. Barrera got manslaughter, Machito got a foster home. The kid probably had it worse. By the time Barrera is released on good behavior, his son is homeless and dead set on revenge.

Though their reunion is not what one would call heartwarming, Barrera tries to clean him up and find livable shelter for the boy. However, there is no easy sentiment in Forged, let alone instant forgiveness. Yet perhaps the fifty G’s in drug money he is carrying back to Cesar, his not so ex-crime boss, can help set up his son in a new life. Of course, walking away with mob money always leads to complications.

There is no question Manny Perez has breakout star potential. Though much of the same creative team from his middling but promising La Soga is again on-board here, Forged represents a big step up for Perez. Intense without undue showiness, he creates a compellingly unromaticized anti-hero in Barrera. He also has a more supportive supporting cast this time around, including a great stone cold villain in Jaime Tirelli’s Cesar, the king pin of Scranton, PA. Tony-nominated Margo Martindale also adds real flesh-and-blood dimension to the film as Barrera’s alcoholic mother.

Relatively few films are shot on-location in Scranton and it is not so hard to see why. However, it gives Forged a genuinely gritty vibe. Evan Wilson’s darkly-hued, vaguely bluesey score also helps set the ominous mood. Even the bleak washed-out color palate employed by cinematographer Zeus Morand materially contributes to the overall effect.

In Forged, what starts as tough-minded naturalism steadily evolves into high tragedy. That might not be the light summer popcorn fare some viewers are seeking, but it makes for a heck of a star vehicle for Perez (but not necessarily for depressed Scranton). One of the stronger entries of the Maya Indie Series, Forged screens at the Quad Cinema in New York, once a day for a week, starting this Friday (7/29-8/4).