Crepúsculo

After a couple of years in Hollywood Arturo De Córdova returned to Mexico to make this opulent melodrama in which De Córdova's glamorous existence as a top surgeon is seismically disrupted by his overpowering infatuation with high-maintainance tease Gloria Marin, now wed to his brother.

Already set in the lap of luxury, shot in jagged black & white by Mexico's second-most acclaimed cameraman Alex Phillips, the cast puff their way through cigarette after cigarette as the film plunges headlong through what feels like an extended dream sequence from 'Spellbound' with surging musical accompiment by Raul Lavista, in which the very false-looking beard worn by chief psychiatrist Julio Villarrreal further adds to the generally hallucinatory feel of the piece.

From the beginning, this movie shows that it's very concerned with displaying all the outward trappings of high-society sophistication. It concerns a renowned Mexican surgeon who cavorts with his rich pals in Europe and always ways noir-like suits and the dialogue is extremely stiff and highfalutin. There's even a short bit taking the extremely unpopular and elitist view that the Mexican Revolution was a negative event in history. Yes, this was a film made for and perhaps by the upper classes to appeal to upper class sensibilities.

Aside from trying too hard, it's just a poorly-constructed movie. The plot is nonsensical from the central plot point. The main love interest marries the friend of the doctor with whom she has a mutual love... why? She claims it's to be closer to him, but there's never any indication at all that there's something barring the two from getting married.

Characters change personalities drastically. The doctor's friend goes from chipper positive buddy to murderous lunatic for no reason. And locations and plot points which were never previously introduced during the movie are thrown in as if we're to know their significance.

The only reason someone would watch this is because Arturo de Cordova and Lilia Michel are looking their best. The only reason someone would claim to like it? Perhaps they're carried away by the glamour and nonsensical noir style.

Honourable Mentions: Being Human (1994). This faux-philosophical film starring Robin Williams as different men throughout history was also very ambitious with very mediocre results.

Excellent cinematography, a fine musical score and a dated script reviewed by a psychiatric expert as well as a surgeon expert, all this was state-of-the-art filmmaking in 1944, as I see it. All is still quite fascinating today, as far as I am concerned, although I recognize that very few people (movie historians excepted) are really interested in old b&W Mexican melodramas these days. Most interesting mentioning is the picture's intrincate flashback structure, full with time twists. And, of course, Miss Marín is absolutely gorgeous. Who else (but Maria Felix) would be able to induce such a fatal attraction and provoke such a lethal, twilight (= Crepúsculo, in Spanish) passion?

Julio Bracho came from a family of film professionals: his sister Andrea Palma (an actress), his brother Jesús Bracho (an art director), his cousins Ramón Novarro and Dolores del Río (both actors), as well as his descendants, including his daughter Diana Bracho and his grandson Julio, also actors. Bracho was an educated and cultured man, but he hardly received any recognition from the Mexican film industry; in his writings he sometimes alternated disdain with resentment, due to his disgust with the low cultural level of authorities and people of all levels. However he is recognized today as a top filmmaker from the golden era of Mexican cinema, but I confess I have seen only a few of his movies: his first work, "Ay, qué tiempos, señor Don Simón" (1941), was a musical comedy about the morals of the rural bourgeoisie aligned with the government of dictator Porfirio Díaz, before the 1910 revolution; the following year, "The Virgin That Forged a Country" (starring cousin Novarro), was a mixture of legend and history recounting the origin of the cult of Our Lady of Guadalupe; "Another Dawn" (1943), starring sister Andrea and considered his best film, is a solid drama with a laborer and a taxi dancer as main characters; and now "Crepúsculo", an erotic melodrama tinted with psychology, among the rich in Mexico City. The film has a few elements against it that if you are tolerant you may enjoy its viewing more: first it is narrated every now and then by its protagonist (Arturo de Córdova), an anti- cinematic resource that needs fine images to ingeniously illustrate the spoken word, something that Bracho is not always able to achieve; then it has frequent little speeches against the commercialization of medicine, against Mexican movies or bad psychiatry; and finally it is too long due to a script (also by Bracho) who gets lost in winding mental paths which in the end lead to an eye-popping location that, up to that moment, has not had any relevance in the plot. To compensate there are many technical and artistic virtues, that captivated me in a few moments: the breakdown of some scenes in virtuoso shots by maestro Alex Phillips, Jorge Fernández's conscientious art direction that gives visual unity to the story, the beautiful costumes by Margaret Vogel, Raúl Lavista passionate melodramatic score; and the performances of the whole cast, in particular veteran Julio Villarreal as the old psychiatrist who, although reciting his lines, delivers a strong conclusion in his big scene, when he orders hesitant De Córdova to perform a surgery. Somehow I feel that "Crepúsculo" conforms a group of similar three films that I would call "Arturo de Córdova' s Neurosis Trilogy", along with Roberto Gavaldón's "The Kneeling Goddess" (1947) and Luis Buñuel's "He" (or This Strange Passion, 1953). It is true that De Córdova often played crazy men in films… Just consider "The Man Without a Face" (1950), "The New Invisible Man" (1958) and "The Skeleton of Mrs. Morales" (1960)... But the first three have sexuality and the female body as common denominators, as De Córdova becomes obsessed with the women he lusts after. All what "He" lacks of is a statue of a nude woman (instead you have the girl's bare feet!), but the three share De Córdova's addiction to women's bodies. Enjoy it.

Film noir doesn't exist only in Usa, there are fascinating examples in all countries, in fact there were films noirs in Argentina before Usa. This "Crepusculo" is a desperate love story with a stunning photography (ciaro oscuro, inventive depth in field). The main character falls into madness with this impossible love, and the other characters around him are also psychologicaly hurt. It can be seen on youtube in a nice print in spanish with spanish or english subtitles.