That kid who became known, along with Gael García Bernal and Maribel Verdú, in Y tu mamá también (2001), Diego Luna (Toluca de Lerdo, 1979), has just presented his fifth feature as a director, Ceniza en la boca, at the Cannes festival. This adaptation of the novel of the same name by his compatriot Brenda Navarro (published by Sexto Piso), follows the steps of a Mexican teenager, Lucila (Anna Díaz), who migrates to Madrid and then to Barcelona, and synthesizes Luna’s commitment to the fight against racism, classism, and violence, which, as early as 1994, was expressed in support of the indigenous insurgents of Chiapas.
Besides basing it on the novel, did you investigate the reality of the Mexican migrant in Madrid and Barcelona?
Yes, in addition to what Brenda also did for her book, we also conducted in-depth research on the context we were portraying, to see where these communities were and the different versions of this community.
Madrid is portrayed as a harsher city for migrants than Barcelona, don’t you think?
The truth is I disagree with that, because I think what makes Madrid so inhospitable has more to do with Lucila’s environment, the presence of her mother. Barcelona, on the other hand, represents the small spark of freedom she gets to experience.
Films often re-victimize migrants, but you empower Lucila, allowing her to enjoy sex and move forward with her own means, earning the right to make mistakes. Did you want to break some stereotypes?
The topic of migration is usually presented with a confrontational narrative, and we wanted to rethink that. Starting with the very term Latino, because one is Mexican until they arrive somewhere and are told they are Latino, because there is that need to find a container for all the expressions of that Latino community. Some have just arrived, others were born in Spain, are passing through, or have come to stay.
Migration is usually presented with a confrontational narrative, and we wanted to rethink that”
The film crew is also of diverse origin.
Yes, it is made up of various Latin Americans. Some of us come from outside, but others were already there and welcomed us. Our producer, Valérie Delpierre, is French, but she has been working in Spain for a long time.
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Did the way of making the film have to be in tune with its spirit?
Definitely, from the framework we built, as a production, that is exactly what we sought. Not just to make a co-production, or a story straddling Mexico and Spain, but by listening to each other. Several people working on this film are talking about their own lives.
Is it easier for a Mexican migrant to choose Spain over another country?
In Mexico, they believe that when migration is to Spain, the language issue will simplify everything, but the only thing it facilitates is reaching the social layers that will employ them sooner, and the confrontation is the same as in other countries. The same Central American migrant who passes through Mexico encounters violence and racism as a product of that violence.
The film wants to be optimistic, as if the empowered Lucila represents the future.
Yes, she, with her tenacity and resilience, represents a possible better future. The film wants to offer a bit of hope.
Not so with the issue of violence in Mexico. Interestingly, the army appears subjected to the narcos, when Michel Franco’s films have shown us how powerful and corrupt it can be.
That is something that has been happening lately. Before we started shooting, a note came out about narcos entering army communities where it was previously inconceivable that this could happen. Someone put on the work table a newspaper that said how many times exactly what we are telling had happened: a protected and closed military community that suffers an attack and an extraction.
The attack seems deliberately shown in an abstract way, is that so?
Yes, totally, because the film is committed to her point of view, who is no longer able to understand what is happening in her country. The violence bothers her. We should be her. But we have it so internalized like the rest of the community, who see it as something that is part of the context. It has been decades with violence that only keeps growing. Hopefully something will happen, but the film portrays today’s Mexico, the moment we filmed, and now it is impossible to see an end to it. There are no tools to fix it. It is hard to accept, but it is so.
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