A film about the boring, routine, and soporific lives of several middle-class Mexican couples living in a Monterrey suburb does not have to be boring, routine, and soporific. But «Love and Mathematics» is. There is a certain amount of cheeky mockery by a black-sheep facing the white flock it does not want to abandon, there is a hint of "social criticism" borrowed from another kind of cinema, and there is an attempt to vindicate the protagonist when he opts for the world of music, but it all lacks substance. And good, hot chili.
In the plot, a former member of the pop-rock band Equinoccio, married, with a baby, a small belly, and an odious canine pet, takes on the housework in a tidy house (apparently) supported by his wife. However, he feels he must "do something" and decides to return to singing. A female neighbor, a fan of Equinoccio, encourages him to finish the song "Love and Mathematics" and return to the stage. They have an affair. There are caricature-like relatives and neighbors in the background. Not much more.
If we are very specific, Mexican comedy about the aspirations of young urban professionals on the verge of climbing the social ladder is rare. Therefore, this attempt by director Claudia Sainte-Luce and screenwriter Adriana Pelusi deserves a warm welcome. However, the problem here may be that no one wants to climb any ladder. So, I think short courses on Renoir, Buñuel, or Chabrol, taught by Lucrecia Martel, Claudia Llosa, or María Novaro, would be good platforms to observe how those masters injected a little more compassion and lucidity into what they criticized, without leaving out humor, of course.
Performances are quite good, but they are not enough. The most solid products come from lucid specimens of each class, but with rigor and study, we can enter any environment foreign to us and emerge victorious, as demonstrated by Count Luchino Visconti and the son of a hotel doorman, Pietro Germi, when filming among the poor in «Bellísima» and among the bourgeois in "Divorce Italian Style," respectively. The rest of the attempts are fruitless flirtations.
