My Mexistache started filling in a couple of years ago. In my family, it’s something you’re either born with, or that emerges later in life, like tumors and menopause. It’s fairly light at this point, relegated to the corners of my mouth, and soft like a rabbit. I probably won’t wax it until I start looking like my boyfriendo, whose natural and robust duster rivals that of a ’70s porn star. Or maybe I never will wax it, because having a little hair above my lip is my birthright as an Escobedo, like gianormous chichotas and the metabolism of a rock.
You know what’s not my fucking birthright? INSANELY SHITTY COMEDIES PREDICATED ON MEXICAN STEREOTYPES. And yet I cannot resist them thanks to my impulse towards total reverse schadenfreude, based on the hope that maybe the trailers are lying in order to get racist Americans and DREAM Act killers into the theatres where they can then smack them down WITH THE TRUTH. So far this has never happened. Even if Edward James Olmos is starring. Maybe barring Ugly Betty. RIP. Instead we get various Chola-poseurs on YouTube, Gwens and Madonnas who exoticize the culture, and Fred Armisen in Mexi-face. I don’t care if you’re 1/27th Venezuelan, dog, shit is wack. Enter the forthcoming Camilla Belle and some generic blonde chick vehicle From Prada to Nada. BECAUSE IT LOOKS SO FUCKING AWESOME!
PRE-RELEASE ASSESSMENT BASED ON ABOVE TRAILER.
Camilla and some blonde chick play super rich Mexican-American sisters but seriously, ‘no hablo espanol’ because like, espanol is frowned upon in the upper echelon of white privileged culture to which their characters/characters’ family have assimilated. This is actually not so far out there for 2nd gens and beyond. But in addition to condescending to their own heritage, they also act like general blights on humanity–stereotypical LA aristocracy spawn. So obviously when their dad dies and leaves them bankrupt, they act like it’s a bigger deal that they can no longer go scorched earth on Rodeo Drive than… the fact that their dad totally just died. Also, now that they are poor, they are afraid they are going to get fat because EBT only provides for starches and ketchup (per Reagan), which frankly would be an awesome plot twist––former Vogue It Girl in weight gain scandal!–but don’t see that happening. Maybe in the sequel. Have another churro! What does happen is the rote riches-to-rags plot imperative where they have to go live in East LA with a tia they’ve never met who will surely be pious, matronly–the spitting image of La Virgen.
On the way driving their fancy SUV to East LA, they get stuck at a stop sign next to–gasp — real life cholos driving a hydraulics-juiced donk. OH MY GOD, THEY’RE WEARING… FLANNELS! By minute one in the trailer, you already know the dumb younger sister is going to fuck one of the dudes in the car maybe 3/8s of the way into the movie. ¡¡¡¡¡¡COMING PRONTO, Y’ALL!!!!!!
Oh wait, Tia’s cool, she makes a lot of great jokes that play on the fact that the rich sisters — who, as protagonists, we are supposed to identify with — arre sooooooo out of their element! Also, she’s running a sweatshop in her living room LOLLLLLLL. If the sisters are lucky, her employees will be sewing the delicate innards of Birkin bags.
CUT. Hot fake homeboy fixes the girls’ car. Dumb younger sister who I would like to stab’s all like ‘I’m not Mexican,’ even though like, honey, not to break the fourth wall, but it’s already been established that you are. Hot fake homeboy mocks her –with a broadstroke comment referencing ponchos, huaraches and tamales, sure — but he mocks her nonetheless. Levity. Breathe. Even though their antagonism is clearly a prelude to a bone.
CUT. BEST PART. Tia’s Sweatshop Shack decides to have a fiesta, where everyone wears traditional Mexican dresses because obviously Mexicans in Mexico do not wear modern clothing, then Camilla Belle gets dressed up as Frida Kahlo! 37 million American girls celebrating Halloween can’t be wrong. (Disclosure: I totally went as Frida like four years ago, obviously. Trad Mexican dress you already have plus kohl eyeliner, no effort costume.) White guy dating Camilla Belle’s character remarks, ‘You look just like Frida Kahlo,’ right after dumb sister tells hot fake homeboy, ‘You clean up all right… for a homeboy.’ Just FYI, everyone… Mexicans are either dirty, or we are Frida. DO NOT GET IT TWISTED. Actually, that part of the trailer is a bit of editing genius––so brutally transparent––and led Durga and I to speculate that trailer editors are smarter than most directors. Perhaps they’ve been giving away the endings of movies for decades because they’re trying to send us a secret message: seriously… don’t see this.
Cholas that look like Juggalos, feel-good music, cultural understanding and jokes about HOW WILD AND CRAZY IS SPANISH, THOUGH, REALLY? ensue. Angels die. Camilla Belle books another fashion mag cover. The world turns. And I leave you with this:
SOMEWHAT RELATED (CPN?): Anand of Yeasayer responds to Kanye’s response to GW Bush’s response to Kanye on Hima’s blog. This small miracle of the internet and Brooklyn colliding makes you, the reader, 18 degrees of separation from Ahmed Rashid, at most.
ADDENDUM TO THE ADDENDUM, i started this post like 2 weeks ago then got immersed in, you know, work, hence the non-timeliness of the addendum. But you should still go and read that response, though.