A Soap With More on Its Mind

Irving, a brawny, scar-faced Border Patrol agent, is every illegal immigrant’s worst nightmare: a xenophobe with a bad attitude and an automatic weapon.

“If the Mexicans didn’t know there’s a lot of dollars here, they wouldn’t come,” he says. “That’s why I’m starting a movement against this. We have to protect our nation. We’re going to take justice into our own hands.”

At this, he locks Hanna, his blond bombshell of a girlfriend, into a tight embrace and begins a long kiss under the hot lights of a television set in Mexico City. And so concludes another scene of “Al Norte del Corazon,” Mexico’s controversial new telenovela.

Shortly after its debut on Mexico’s TV Azteca network in February, the five-night-a-week soap opera became among the most watched programs in the country, claiming 25 million viewers nightly, more than a quarter of the population. And much of this popularity stems from the program’s attempts to deal seriously with a major issue that separates Mexicans from their U.S. neighbors--illegal immigration.

By making the emotionally charged political issue an integral part of their story line, Santiago and Ruben Galindo, cousins as well as co-producers of “Al Norte del Corazon” (North of the Heart) have made a clear break from the inoffensive motifs that distinguish most Spanish-language soap operas.

In doing so they’re following the trail blazed by “Nada Personal,” a thinly veiled attack on Mexico’s corrupt political system. “Nada Personal”--which ended its 40-week run the week before “Al Norte del Corazon” made its Feb. 17 debut--benefited from a firestorm of official protests as well as persistent rumors that the show’s leading actress was involved with the mysterious Commandante Marcos, leader of southern Mexico’s Zapatista guerrillas.

But what makes “Al Norte del Corazon” stand out is its willingness to examine the border dilemma from a Mexican point of view, one that blames the problem on harsh laws and abuses of authority in the U.S., rather than on illegal immigration from Mexico.

And rather than delivering that message in a news show or documentary, as Mexicans journalists and politicians have done for years, the Galindos have chosen perhaps the most influential form of popular culture in Latin American: the soap opera.

(“Al Norte del Corazon” comes to U.S. television Tuesday on the Telemundo network. The show will air weeknights locally in 100 hourlong episodes on KVEA-TV Channel 52.)

“We’re going to talk about the difficulties that poor Mexican illegal aliens have to go through in a very complicated legal system where power means all,” Ruben Galindo says. “We are against all aggression of authority on the Mexican illegal aliens. . . . This is a very complicated situation we have here. We’ve had it for years.”

But, the Galindos hasten to add, the model for their story was “Romeo and Juliet,” not “El Norte,” Gregory Nava’s critically acclaimed 1983 film tracing two Guatemalan immigrants’ journey to Los Angeles. The cousins’ goal was to make a romance, they say, not history.

The plot revolves around an aspiring singer named Angela Medina and her suitor, Jose Francisco Reyes. Both come from a poor farming town in northern Mexico, but Angela has dreams of making the big time as a singer, and that dream takes her first to Texas, then Los Angeles.

Jose Francisco tries to follow, but is stopped twice by the Border Patrol. The second time he’s caught, Irving, a racist sociopath, frames him for a murder he didn’t commit.

“We wanted to tell a love story but immersed in the context of the crisis of the Mexican system,” says Santiago Galindo, the more serious of the two cousins. “Instead of taking on the political life of Mexico, we’ve taken on the human rights of the immigrant. We’re trying to make television de vanguardia.”

In this case, however, the vanguard isn’t leading the revolution--it’s following some distance behind. The reforms in Mexican politics that have allowed shows like “Nada Personal” and “Al Norte del Corazon” to get on the air began taking shape nearly a decade ago, and it has taken television nearly that long to catch up.

“The end of the ‘80s and beginning of the ‘90s for Mexico marked a historic moment because there were a lot of changes,” Ruben Galindo says. “The Mexican people want change. Change of every kind. In news, in entertainment, [in] ideas.”

And when there’s a trend being set in Mexican film or television, you can expect at least one member of the Galindo family to be present. For three generations, the family has been among the country’s leading independent filmmakers, although their pictures have been geared more toward profit than politics.

Ruben’s grandfather, Don Pedro Galindo, was the first to enter the movie business. An accomplished musician--his ballad “La Malaguena” is still a Latin American standard--he also worked as an extra and as a singing charro in Hollywood before returning to Mexico in 1935 to begin making his own films.

His son, Pedro Jr., expanded the family business, but the Galindos’ films were mostly B movies of little artistic merit. However, they were hugely successful at the box office, and soon other Mexican filmmakers were copying their themes and their style, fleeing Mexico City in huge numbers to shoot, as the Galindos did, in the Rio Grande Valley.

According to Texas Monthly magazine, 60 Mexican films were shot in that area between 1975 and ‘85; the Galindos alone cranked out 30 pictures during that time, working mostly from a 10-acre ranch set outside Brownsville, Texas. But the INS brought all that to halt in 1985.

After years of routinely granting movie crews special visas allowing them to work in the United States, the agency cracked down, barring the Galindos’ technicians. On the advice of a lawyer, the family decided to call the INS’ bluff and brought a crew across the border. The INS responded by raiding the set and arresting and deporting the technicians.

Ruben Galindo, a boyish-looking 34-year-old who attended UCLA’s school of film and television, insists that “Al Norte del Corazon” is not an attempt to even an old score with the INS. But both cousins acknowledge that the episode helped politicize them.

“During that time,” Santiago Galindo says diplomatically, “the numerous problems of the border area, on both sides, were present.”

In putting the telenovela together, the cousins drew on their personal experiences as well as on what they learned studying the effects of Proposition 187, the anti-illegal immigrant measure approved by California voters in 1994, and listening to stories from migrants who crossed into the U.S. illegally.

Still, they say they never intended to make their telenovela a one-sided polemic. After the show’s synopsis was approved for distribution, the Galindos went back into the script and added new characters in an effort to explain to Mexicans the concerns that have fueled movements like the one that inspired Proposition 187. “But given real reasons,” Ruben Galindo says. “Not racism.”

Even with the additions, however, the cousins acknowledge they’ve probably failed to capture the wide range of opinions that exist this side of the border.

“We do really lack much serious focus on the point of view of the North Americans about the problem [of immigration],” says Santiago Galindo, 32. “We know that part of the feeling of the people of California is because some Mexican immigrants come to California in bad condition and they generate a lot of social problems. That’s a reality that is here, and we can’t hide it. We are trying to be fair.”

Nevertheless, the series is rife with stereotypes. Border Patrol agents, for example, are rarely shown without their weapons drawn, and the show’s opening ends with Angela and Jose Francisco being roughed up by a couple of gun-wielding officers.

“The idea Mexicans have of the Border Patrol is what I am portraying,” says Miguel Couturier, the actor who plays Irving. “But yes, it may be somewhat over the top. I don’t think such a person is possible.”

But, the Galindos argue in defense, if Mexicans are ready to believe all Californians are racist, then Californians are equally guilty of blaming all immigrants for the failings of a few.

“A lot of poor people are paying a debt that they don’t owe,” Ruben Galindo says.

“I feel very, very close to all of this,” adds Annette Michel, a model whose portrayal of Angela marks her debut as an actress. Michel lived for many years in Mexicali, a border town on the Mexican side.

“I think this is a theme we have to touch on here in Mexico,” she says. “Many people aren’t informed about what’s happening. Or maybe they prefer to watch a telenovela for entertainment and the news to be informed. So this is a big responsibility because we have to inform--not just the bad or not just the view from Mexico, but both sides, no?”

That responsibility is big largely because the audience is big as well. In many Latin American countries, telenovelas dominate the popular culture in a way that’s difficult to imagine here. “The closest thing in this country would be a miniseries,” says KVEA-TV station manager Eduardo Dominguez.

Historically, telenovelas have enjoyed a captive audience in many Latin countries because TV viewers had just one or two commercial stations to choose from. In addition, telenovelas are aired in prime time, when the potential audience is at its peak.

But perhaps the biggest reason they’ve enjoyed such wide popularity is the shows themselves. Unlike English-language soaps, which can run indefinitely, Spanish-language telenovelas are built around tightly constructed plots that progress quickly to a resolution. In fact, the date a series will finish is widely publicized in the hope viewers will tune in to watch the concluding episodes.

Not unlike fairy tales, the stories frequently feature wholesome but incredibly naive poor people being set upon by rich and immoral ne’er-do-wells. But in Latin America, where the vast majority of people live in poverty, those fables have resonance. And KVEA’s Dominguez is anticipating that “Al Norte del Corazon” will strike a chord with his viewers despite its serious story line.

“We’re betting that we’re going to get good ratings with it,” he says. “Almost anybody in Latin America--especially Mexico and Central America--has a relative, family member or someone they know that has crossed over to the north. It’s part of our reality.”

By filling their cast largely with unknowns, the Galindos are challenging the conventional wisdom that says big-name stars are necessary for a telenovela to succeed. The Galindos, in fact, left most of the story in the hands of a couple making their acting debuts: Michel and Jorge Luis Pila, a Cuban model and singer who plays Jose Francisco.

“Do people want more from novelas than pretty women and stars? I think so,” says Ruben Galindo. “And I think the ratings show that. Right now we’re competing against other novelas that are traditional in every way, and people want to see better stuff.”

Televisa, TV Azteca’s chief rival in the Mexican television market, apparently agrees: The network is reportedly working on an immigration-based telenovela of its own, to be titled “Los Que Se Van” (Those Who Leave).

The Galindos have also broken precedent by leaving their studios in Mexico City and returning to northern Mexico to film, shooting scenes in Hildalgo and Laredo as well as across the border in San Antonio and Brownsville, Texas. (“We used American technicians,” Ruben Galindo says.) The crew had also planned location shoots in Los Angeles, where much of the story takes place, but problems with visas reportedly derailed those efforts.

“In Mexico,” Santiago says, “we have a system that is centralized in all aspects: politically, socially and economically. Part of the motivation that we had was . . . to tell stories not from the belly button of the country, but also from the periphery. Evidently, since the project started, it has raised consciousness.”