Rudo y Cursi

It is the day after the film before, and I am alive. I have survived the 'Transformers effect'. As I put my head down last night I was awash with fear that I might be plagued in my dreams by Optimus Prime's intergalactic motivational rhetoric or choked alive by Megan Fox's bulbous, alien lips. Fortunately though, it was not to be. I have emerged unscathed, and live to write another day.

And write I will...

In the glory of my new lease of cinematic life, I took myself to the picturehouse again, and this time I was determined to gorge myself on something healthier, something cleaner. That something was RUDO Y CURSI, an exciting new feature written and directed by Carlos Cuaron, Mexican screenwriter and novice director, brother of brilliant director Alfonso.

It had stirred a thrilling anticipation in me for numerous reasons. Cuaron was, first of all, the principal author of 'Y Tu Mama Tambien', one of the best foreign language movies of recent times. What's more he had reunited with Gael Garcia Bernal and Diego Luna, a superb pair of actors whose onscreen chemistry was the driving force behind the original hit. If this wasn't enough, the project is produced by three godfathers of modern Mexican cinema; Alfonso Cuaron himself, Jose Gonzalez Inarritu and Guillermo Del Toro.

There is little chance then, I thought, that 'Rudo y Cursi' could fail to emerge as another worthy addition to the already brilliant canon of Mexican film-making, bristling with proven talent as it was. And I was right, to an extent...

The film is actually somewhat of an enigma. A powerful display of acting and design, it is beautifully shot and contains some wonderfully odd moments worthy of Almodovar or Gondry. There is also a great pace to the story, in which two brothers, Beto (Luna) and Tato (Bernal) emerge as footballing superstars on opposing Mexican teams, later to be renamed Rudo and Cursi by their adoring fans, and struggle to fend off the trappings of their sudden success. Luna in particular delivers an exciting performance that balances the quirky, almost caricature humour typical of modern Latino cinema with the harder hitting emotional changes that draw us into the story, yet it is not enough to prevent the film from falling victim to the infectious cinematic ailment known as "style-over-substance-itis".

Though Cuaron's talents as a visual director are clear, his ability to handle thematic devices and genre are still to develop, and are apparent in his neglection of the more engaging human issues of family, responsibility and pride in favour of overblown footballing metaphors and one-dimensional sub-plots. As such, too many opportunities to develop interesting characters and conflicts are missed, too many questions left unanswered, and the emotional punch of the story is neutered from an early stage. The brothers' home, where Beto has a young wife and the boys' mother has recently engaged in another abusive relationship, is sadly left behind at the end of the first act as we follow the boys to Mexico City, never to be given enough attention, either from the brothers or from the director. Likewise, the boys' mentor and enigmatic playboy Batuta has an intriguing past that is revealed only to the point of frustration, never satisfaction.

As I left the cinema at the end of Rudo y Cursi I was strangely affected. I had enjoyed the film, oddly gripping footballing finale than for the emotional epilogue that followed, but was still disappointed. I had expected more from the story with Cuaron in control, so brilliantly nuanced and moving was 'Y Tu Mama Tambien', and felt that he had ignored his instincts in favouring the superficial over the substantial, much like Rudo and Cursi themselves.