Based upon the namesake book written by Chilean José Donoso. La Manuela (Roberto Cobo) is a gay who works in a brothel managed by La Japonesa (Japanese lady, Lucha Villa). However the building's owned by Don Alejo (Fernando Soler). One night Don Alejo, the most powerful man in town, trying have fun bets La Japonesa she won't seduce La Manuela, if so he will give her away the building. So, that night both, the whore Japonesa and the seduced gay Manuela, become owners of the house but also, without meaning to, beget La Japonesita (little Japanese lady, Ana Martin). Years later Pancho, who when child had been Mr. Alejo's protégé, tries to hurt and kill La Manuela without known reasons. La Japonesita and his father fear any day Pancho will show up to kill him. After an argument with Mr. Alejo, Pancho's brother in law, Octavio (Julián Pastor), lends him some money so he breaks ties with Mr. Alejo. Then they come to the brothel to celebrate. When La Manuela hears Pancho's truck coming he hides away, but after seeing him mistreating La Japonesita he comes back to save her. La Manuela seems to realize that in fact Pancho is also a gay. So dressed as Flamenco dancer, he dances for him the zarzuela La Leyenda del Beso (Legend of the Kiss). Slowly, step by step, La Manuela goes taming and seducing the macho man. Soon they are dancing together and kissing each other. When Octavio finds his brother in law kissing La Manuela, breaks the spell, making Pancho's bewilderment turn to hate. La Manuela realizes now he is in real danger so he runs away. Then both brothers in law hunt him down through the dark streets of the town to punish him, beating him dead for having kissed Pancho.
Add a Review
-
algmzt11 July 2014
-
I had seen other Arturo Ripstein films before this one: you can say Ripstein films are unusual in their scripts and some might say downright weird in the treatment of their themes, but they are always hypnotic to watch. Their plot is often, well, a train wreck: you feel the tension and you know nothing will end well.( Tennessee Williams plays function within a similar mix of explosive passions and imminent doom). Everything in a Ripstein film is baroque: dialogues, themes and colors. This movie is all that, and more, because it introduces us to a rich cast of characters in a restricted setting, and there are significant political undertones to the tale. But the most fascinating part of this film is of course this gentle transvestite who never once drops the pretense that he is a woman, in public or in private ( The actor who plays him/her is AMAZING, and remarkably believable against all odds.) I think it is a solid story -with a great soundtrack of old Mexican songs- that has a lot to say about machismo and the plight of women in a society that values only male "qualities".
-
blessyabraham-1153315 April 2022A very beautiful poignant film that touches on the toxic culture of machoism, and how it struggles to come to term with a character who is a proud and out queer individual. I only wish the daughter's character was fleshed out a little more.
-
Arturo Ripstein's film "A place without limits" was extremely interesting and beautiful to see because its desperate symbolic and creative cry is extremely similar to that of Jorge Fons's "El callejon de los Milagros" and Ignacio Ortiz's "La horilla de la tierra". All three films are symbolic studies of an incredible Mexican mystical alienation, and the disturbing relationship of sexuality and violence. Although Ripstein's film is about twenty years older than the other two films, it is my belief that these obsessions of mysticism, sexuality violence, and identity have haunted the Mexican artistic mind ever since the demon/angel of modernism was released due to the fragmentation caused by WWI and the second modernist wave after WWII. In Europe Surrealism, Dadaism, Cubism, Futurism, and Vorticism had an extreme impact upon social and cultural behavior due to the amount of individuals involved within these groups. Mexico, however, did not see these impacts as profoundly, until some of these European rebels, anarchists, and artists sought Mexico as an escape from Europe: People like Andre Breton, Leonora Carrington, Salvador Dali, Luis Buñuel, etc. Three very important figures in Mexican modernism, however, are Frida Kahlo, Diego Rivera and Octavio Paz. Of the three, Octavio Paz is, at least to me, the most important artist to have ever come out of Mexico: A Nobel laureate surrealist master whose work represents the Mexican spirit better than any other voice. And it is Paz's voice I hear, and his poetic angst echoing in "A place without limits". Just like Paz's poetry depicts an ancient Mexico that can only be dreamed of and witnessed through poetic visions, Ripstein brings his viewers to a rural and long forgotten small town in Mexico where violence and sexuality blindfold the population's unconsciousness like a soft and sensual fog. Something I disliked about the film was the acting, which seemed extremely theatrical: although the language used in the film is very quotidian the delivery by the subjects seemed false. On the other hand, the editing and cinematography were extremely raw. The cuts are not very fluid, and the camera movements are not conventional: when we want to see more, Ripstein shows us less, and when we want to see less he shows us more. This has a powerful effect on the audience due to the graphic and taboo content of the film. I found it extremely interesting that Roberto Cobo took on the role of Manuela, but at the same time, I saw it as both an artistic and spiritual necessity: about twenty years before this film he played Jaibo in Buñuel's Los Olvidados. According to Julio Cortazar: "Everything is fine in the outskirts of the city poverty and promiscuity do not alter the established order, the blind can sing and beg in squares, while the young boys play at bull-fighting on dry waste-ground then Jaibo enters". If one pays attention at the description, it could apply to both Los Olvidados and to A place without Limits; however, in Los Olvidados Roberto Cobo plays the Alpha Male, the destroyer of balance and peace, while he plays the peaceful and abused victim in A place without Limits. To me this is not only brave, but beautiful and magical: if he had played the role of Pancho in this film (which he could of), he would have become a clown a routine, an actor that fulfills the same character over and over again but he took on the role of Manuela, which is the complete opposite of what Jaibo was. By taking this chance he experienced ambivalence and exorcised himself (as originally a non-actor) of the image the character of Jaibo created for him. Becoming Manuela was not only powerful, but also glorious for Roberto Cobo's image in Mexican Cinema. Returning to the earlier comparison between Ripstein and Paz, I must admit that "A place without limits" is a pure Mexican film: the beautiful imagery and presentation are "Mexican", the places, the images, the words: they belong there sociologically, culturally and collectively the film is a Mexican mesh. The film is an obsessive study of a dreamer's imagination, attempting to collect the pieces that make the whole of his culture: and by creating a very simplistic form of film-making, with no bull, and no unimportant and unnecessary complex flamboyant embellishments, Ripstein saturates his mise en scène with colors, shapes and objects that cannot be found anywhere else. Similarly, Octavio Paz's glorious surrealist imagination saturates the white pages of his work with images, sounds, tastes, places and occurrences that cannot be experienced anywhere else. Their incomprehensible connection of sexuality and violence are also part of the Mexican Mythological archetypes of contemporary existence: Don Aleju represents the Old-Rich man who moans and bitches at everyone the stereotypical man who "asks" for the respect he believes he deserves, and lives behind a well-mannered mask for personal interest. Pancho is the stereotypical alpha-male, a macho feared by all, and Manuela represents the free spirit of change, originality, freedom, and carelessness, which is a force that is feared by those who fear their very own self. Pancho's obvious, yet unconscious homosexual tendencies are his self-purification: a counterattack on his macho fixation . While Don Aleju's attempt at ultimate control and ownership only take him further away from himself and from others, yet one can see (in the party scene where Manuela dances) that he indeed needs of others and that unconsciously he desires to be liked and accepted rather than feared and revered. A place without limits is a fierce, magical and hypnotizing film. What else could Ripstein have done to achieve perfection? Have Manuela dance more than two times.
-
cyn_duncan2 November 2003Considering that this film was made in 1978 when no one - especially no one in Mexico - was making films about gay men, this film is remarkable for the way it presents a critique of macho culture. La Manuela, played brilliantly by Roberto Cobo, doesn't want to be a man because she doesn't want to be a "bruto," an animal. Pancho and his brother in law, Octavio, represent everything that's wrong with Mexican men. They are obsessed with appearing "manly" in the eyes of the world. They treat women like objects, they are violent, and they like to control other people. Pancho is especially pathetic because he is obviously attracted to la Manuela but can't admit it. On the other hand, la Manuela is very honest and open about who she is and what she wants. She doesn't care if people make fun of her and call her names. She is kind, supportive, and in decisive moments, brave. In case you're thinking this is a male-bashing film, it's not. Don Alejo, the aging cacique (boss) of the town is an old fashioned patriarch who has his flaws, but he is not threatened by men like la Manuela. He doesn't pass judgment on people and he recognizes wrongdoing when he sees it. He suggests that there are other ways to be a man in Mexico, and that people like Pancho and Octavio are threats to society. The relationship between la Manuela and her daughter, Japonesita, is sweet and touching, like the mother and daughter roles in a 1940s melodrama, but with a modern twist! Although la Manuela sometimes acts campy and parodies female behavior, it is clearly just part of the spectacle or show. When she's not on stage, she's down to earth and practical, like any of the other "girls" who work in the brothel. This film shows the seamy side of life in a small town, but ultimately suggests that the people who live and work in the brothel are more honest and sincere than those who belong to the so-called "respectable" outside world. Roberto Cobo is perfect in the role because he's not beautiful or feminine looking, but he knows how to seduce with words and gestures. The final "dance of the kiss" is hypnotic, and it's easy to forget that he's not a "real" woman as he dances for Pancho. Running like a thread through the whole film is a commentary about how life in Mexico is changing and how small town life is disappearing. It's a great film, well worth seeing, the best film coming out of Mexico in the 1970s, without a doubt.
-
erick_castaway28 December 2001What Arturo Ripstein likes to do is put his characters in small isolated places, where the public feels trapped. In this case, the claustrophobic environment is not only the town or the house where the plot evolves, it´s Mexican closed minds. Drama full of unforgettable moments. GOTTA SEE IT!!!
-
gavin694226 April 2016Family honor, greed, machismo, homophobia, and the dreams of whores collide in a Mexican town. Rich, elderly Don Alejo is poised to sell the town for a profit, needing only to buy a whorehouse to own all the buildings and close the deal.
The themes of this film are quite interesting, and in someways ahead of their time. We have a very blunt look at homosexuality in 1978, and based on a book from 1966. And, in a way, it is something of a multi-cultural film because the author, José Donoso, wrote the book in Chile but was later a resident of Mexico, Spain and Iowa -- his personal papers are in the University of Iowa archives.
I am not sure if a good edition exists. The one I saw was a bit rough, and this is the sort of film that could really use a new audience and some love from Criterion. -
ricardojorgeramalho9 January 2023This is an unusual film. Above all because it was made in Mexico and in 1978, at a time when Fassbinder was still shocking Europe with the amoral way in which he treated sexuality in his films. It seems to have exerted a strong influence on this Mexican film.
The work is interesting not only for the courage, for the time, to approach the gay theme, but above all for the approach of the psychological repression resulting from machismo.
This not only prevented homosexuals from assuming their sexual orientation, but also pushed them towards a path of violence, against themselves and against those who, by assuming their homosexuality, revived the demons of their repressed sexuality.
An amazing film. -
ockiemilkwood30 March 2022Unbelievably shoddy. Slow: Tells, not shows, with endless dialogue, much of it plot exposition of the past. Characters are caricatures, flat and two-dimensional. A flashback comes unannounced, indistinguishable from the present. The murder, when it arrives, has been broadcast from the beginning, robbing it of all suspense.
Director Ripstein tries too hard to be "transgressive," a bad boy. Film revels in grit and grime for the sake of grit and grime - it's too cult. His comparison to Marlowe's Faustus, made in the inscription at the beginning, is a stretch and pretentious, to say the least. The title derives from this.