Review

Review Date: 14-September-03
Spoiler Rating: High
Juju Judgment: Junk

Once Upon a Time in Mexico (2003)

Every now and then people ask me if I take notes when I go to the movies, and I always tell them No. I have to start qualifying that response, however, now that I have seen Robert Rodriguez's "Once Upon a Time in Mexico." This movie had me reaching for pen and paper after the first half hour, because I realized that I wouldn't remember any of it by the time I had walked home. It's not that the movie is completely horrible from beginning to end; it does have some good qualities, like a vibrant palette, a single delicious performance (discussed below), Antonio Banderas wearing pants that jingle when he walks, and a handful of nifty settings including a cool mosaicked hall. But overall, the movie is so overstuffed and jumbled that it drums the viewer into a stupor.

"Once Upon a Time in Mexico" is the third and last (thankfully) of Rodriguez's series involving a nameless mariachi-cum-hitman. The original "El Mariachi" (1993) was a truly excellent movie made with no-name stars on a shoestring budget, of which the ramped-up remake/sequel "Desperado" (1995) was but a pale imitation. This last film tries to add new elements to the story but doesn't come up with anything interesting or even remotely as exciting as the original (except that one delicious performance I mentioned). It involves the old hero being coerced out of hiding by a CIA agent in order to bump off a renegade general who, under the auspices of a drug lord, is planning a coup against the new Mexican president while being pursued by a retired G-man. Or something like that. Frankly, I found it a bit difficult to follow exactly what was going on with the dozen or so characters in the movie, and even more difficult to care. Instead, I spent my time looking beyond the obvious blood, gore, and jingly pants to ferret out the petty lies and great truth hidden at its core, namely:

Lie #1: Coffee can sober up a drunk (will that one ever die?).

Lie #2: When one man engages in a shoot-out with 16 other men, the single man is the only one who can actually hit a target.

Lie #3: In Mexico, only very old and very young people are innocent.

Lie #4: Rectal probing is inherently funny.

Big Truth: "Once Upon a Time in Mexico" may be a crappy film, but it is an excellent reflection of the state of its actors' careers. Observe:

Antonio Banderas (El Mariachi): The once promising Spaniard is the nominal star of this mess (as in "Desperado"), but he doesn't have the biggest role, the most lines, or the best scenes. In short, he may be wearing the pants, but he isn't getting any respect. His current Broadway gig is probably a good idea.

Willem Dafoe (drug lord Barillo): He has proven that he can act, but it seems like producers chiefly cast him because of his unusual, creepy visage. Rodriguez takes this fascination with Dafoe's face to a new level: he forces the viewer to study it closely and then dissects it — literally.

Ruben Blades (Jorge the G-man): If Dafoe is usually cast for his strange face, Blades is usually cast for his noble one. Here as elsewhere, the actor/musician/politician with a Ph.D. from Harvard is used to add some Hispanic gravitas to the mix.

Mickey Rourke (Barillo's gringo henchman): This guy has not been taking care of himself. The boxer's body and Method cockiness long gone, Rourke is reduced to playing bloated, pathetic guys with withered cojones and bad suits.

Eva Mendes (shady Mexican law enforcement officer): Her other movie this year (so far) was "2 Fast 2 Furious." Looks like she has yet to realize her goal of breaking free from roles focused on her tough-Playmate looks and her ethnicity.

Enrique Iglesias and Marco Leonardi (junior mariachi-hitmen): Remember when Leonardi hit it big with "Cinema Paradiso" and "Like Water For Chocolate"? Remember when Iglesias made that funny Doritos ad? How the mighty have fallen. Worthless pretty boys; nothing but worthless pretty boys.

Salma Hayek (Mrs. Mariachi): Having possibly blown her wad on the tepidly received "Frida," this movie hints that the diminutive Mexican might return to being perceived as nothing more than an unbelievably bodacious body. Indeed, her body graces a third of the movie's poster for no reason other than titillation: if she's in this flick longer than four minutes, I'll eat a chihuahua. (Oh, there's one of those in the movie, too.)

Which (skipping a few other characters) brings us at last to:

Johnny Depp (CIA agent Sands, the real star of the picture): After this summer's smash hit "Pirates of the Caribbean," who doesn't love this guy? And why does everybody love him? Because he gave them a snarky, larky, wild and wacky performance in a potentially throwaway role that made a decent movie fabulous. Well, he's worked his magic again: his take on American tackiness and hubris elevates "Once Upon a Time in Mexico" from a steaming pile of doo into a . . . well, slightly less fetid and more stomachable pile of misdirected intentions. Proving he's the coolest mother around, Depp successfully delivers such questions as "Are you a Mexi-can or a Mexi-can't?" and "Are you trying to give me a boner?"; successfully sports a T-shirt reading "CIA: Cleavage Inspection Agency" (which he reportedly procured himself); and successfully earns his character's grandiose, over-the-top, western-style finale in a plaza filled with death masks, clad in a leather-and-glitter vest, his face dripping blood from the gaping holes where his eyeballs used to be. When I think back to Depp's performance, it almost makes me want to remember the movie. You know, the one I just finished reviewing.

Copyright © 2003 The Jujube (M. I. Kim). All rights reserved.