In an interview with PeroLike, Bong Joon Ho mentioned how he keeps his eye on Latin American cinema. He begins his statement praising Bacurau, a film I will continue to highlight whenever given the chance. He then steers away from Brazil and begins to talk about Mexican cinema. And to my surprise, he brings up one of my favorite directors, Arturo Ripstein. He continues by talking about a film called Deep Crimson. Then he circles back to Brazil to speak on the award-winning film I’m Still Here. Seeing Bong Joon Ho talk about Latin American cinema made me ecstatic. But seeing him shout out Arturo Ripstein, a director who I feel deserves a lot of attention, truly made my day.
But just who is Arturo Ripstein? For starters, he’s “The Godfather of independent Mexican cinema”. The name is fitting as Ripstein was destined to become a filmmaker. His father, Alfredo Ripstein, was a prominent figure in the Golden Age of Mexican Cinema, producing over 120 films. As a child, Arturo Ripstein would follow his father around the movie sets, observing the film industry. At 15, he saw Luis Buñuel’s Nazarin. Ripstein noticed films could be the opposite of the commercialized films he had seen his father produce. Afterwards, he met Luis Buñuel and began working under his wing. It came to a point he was helping around the set in films like The Exterminating Angel.
With so many cinematic opportunities at his fingertips, Ripstein finally took the plunge into creating his feature-length films. From the get-go go Ripstein showed Mexican moviegoers his unique vision and voice. His debut feature, Time to Die, is an exploration of machismo and the dangers behind small-town gossip through a charro drama. It’s a revenge film where the violence isn’t at the forefront. Instead, Ripstein focuses on the emotions of two men having to deal with the man who killed their father. Ripstein continues his trait of minimal violence and unique filming techniques with his only horror film, La Tia Alejandra.
Arturo Ripstein is, without a doubt, a director who prefers to tell his stories with complex human relationships and social critiques through the lens of drama. It’s evident even through La Tia Alejandra, as Ripstein spreads the horror tropes sporadically throughout the film. But even so, he creates an uncomfortable experience through the mise en scene and his use of negative space. There’s a disturbing aura surrounding the titular character, Alejandra (Isabela Corona), as her presence quickly transforms from inviting guest to intruding witch. Viewers see Alejandra as a menacing force from the beginning of the film.
From the cold opening with the death of Alejandra’s unnamed mother, she enters the room fully composed. In stoic silence, Alejandra closes her mother’s eyes and wipes down the music box by her side. She proceeds to the room. There’s no frantic emotion behind the death, just a woman with a goal in mind, to which is unknown to the viewer. After the title credit sequence, we are introduced to her nephew Rodolfo (Manuel Ojeda) and his family. We see glimpses of the family’s happy life with Rodolfo’s wife Lucia (Diana Bracho) tidying up the house as she and her three kids await the visit of Alejandra.
Ripstein is concise when it comes to the framing of Alejandra. We see this plenty of times throughout the film. Once Alejandra begins to take over the family’s control, Ripstein makes it evident with her positioning. She’s usually at a higher elevation, literally looking down at the family. But before this, Ripstein shows Alejandra as the opposite when greeting Rodolfo’s family. With an exterior shot, Alejandra stands to the left of the frame. Rodolfo’s estate lies to the right, overtaking the majority of the shot. Alejandra has a sense of approachability as the shot perceives her as small. But this is contrasted with the broken buzzer, alerting Lucia and the family to her presence. The constant buzz is jolting and harsh. To what seems like a mere coincidence, we will soon see it as a regular occurrence once the violence begins.
At the start of the second act, we start to see Alejandra becoming more comfortable in Rodolfo’s household. The kids, Andres (Arturo Adonay) and Malena (Lilian Davis), are beginning to become annoyed with Alejandra’s presence; Martia (Maria Rebeca), however, finds solace in her. The violence begins after Andres teases Alejandra’s walking posture. Alejandra shows her true nature immediately afterwards with the death of Andres, the first in the family. When it comes to depicting the deaths on screen. Ripstein does hold back tremendously. They are either shown off-screen or quick cuts to show the implication of the death. For example, Andres falling down the staircase leading to his fate, or Rodolfo drowning in the water bed. Each death, aside from Rodlofo, is accompanied by an off-putting score.
However, throughout the film, there is hardly any score. It isn’t until Rodolfo’s immediate family meets their fate or the witch rituals begin to take place, we get any kind of music. And when it is present, it’s ominous and jarring. Each scene is overtaken by the score by either creating tension through the constant off-putting noise, sometimes reminiscent of an elevated heartbeat or quick sound cuts. This adds a level of anxiety once the music as its correlated to danger. Because of this, each death is more impactful as Ripstein utilizes the audio aspects of the medium.
Arturo Ripstein has a knack for creating an uncomfortable experience with his films. It can range from how he implies death, utilizes sound, or frames his shots to invoke an emotion. This is why I’m excited to hear Criterion will be releasing Deep Crimson in October. Arutro Ripstein deserves this kind of treatment. Here’s to hoping he starts to get other films receive the same care because his films like La Tia Alejandra and Time to Die deserve more eyes, essays, and love.
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