Of Rising Cinematic Import

Alfonso Cuaron fondly recalls those struggling days in his native Mexico as a young unknown director nearly a decade ago. Days when he and his closest friends--fellow director Guillermo del Toro and cinematographer Emmanuel Lubezki--were trying to piece together a Mexican TV version of “The Twilight Zone.”

Cuaron was at the director’s helm, Del Toro wrote the script, monitored the special effects and fixed the makeup while Lubezki did what he could with lighting and cinematography on a budget that wouldn’t pay for a day of shooting on a Hollywood movie. But improvising TV shows was one of the few opportunities these young filmmakers had to practice their craft.

“We called it ‘The Toilet Zone’ because we never had enough money,” says Cuaron now, laughing at the memory. “We put a lot of heart into it, but I’m sure if we saw it today we would laugh at how poorly it was done.”

Today, less than six years since their arrival in Los Angeles, those three filmmakers and nearly a dozen of their friends from their days in Mexico are working with multimillion-dollar budgets at the center of the world’s movie-making machine. They represent an unprecedented wave of Mexican talent that is making mainstream English-language films in Hollywood.

Their circle of Mexican filmmaker friends transplanted to the U.S. includes directors Luis Mandoki, Alejandro Springall and Roberto Sneider, cinematographers Claudio Rocha, Rodrigo Garcia and Guillermo Navarro, actress Salma Hayek and soundman Jose Antonio Garcia.

They may not be household names yet, but the films they’ve worked on are getting noticed, from the recently opened “Message in a Bottle,” directed by Mandoki, to the critically lauded “A Little Princess,” directed by Cuaron. They’ve also worked on such mainstream fare as “Godzilla” and “Liar Liar” (Jose Antonio Garcia did the sound for both films).

As their careers have evolved, so have their relationships. No longer in desperate need of cash or support to make films, these young filmmakers--mostly in their mid-30s--now look to one another for guidance and assurance in an industry infamous for swallowing people up and spitting them out.

“We are all a very close group of friends,” says Hayek, who met most of the filmmakers in her days as a soap opera actress in Mexico. “Everybody in Mexico knew how talented they were, and they have proven here that their talent is real. But with the success, nobody has changed. We have all just matured.”

Their discussions are no longer about breaking into the industry but rather keeping sane in the business. They are also mindful of what their departure did to the Mexican film industry, which has been struggling to recoup its former glory. Eventually, they would like to use their success here to help revive the moribund film industry they left behind.

“I’ve never considered my stay here in the U.S. final, but rather part of a journey,” Cuaron says. “Really, there are very few of us who are fortunate enough to work in this industry, and I am very grateful. But I do miss making films in Spanish, and I want to make films in Mexico again.”

Even though he remembers the “Toilet Zone” experience with a sweet nostalgia, Cuaron readily admits it is not a period he would like to relive. Life as a filmmaker in Mexico was a taxing, frustrating experience that, for the most part, hinged on political schmoozing to receive any kind of support or financing.

It is a sharp contrast to what the Mexican film industry had been in its heyday 50 years ago. During World War II, Mexico’s film industry flourished, creating stars like Dolores Del Rio, Maria Felix, Pedro Infante and Cantinflas.

But starting in the late 1970s, the country’s film industry shrank, as the stars aged, TV became more dominant and Mexico’s economy spun out of control. Young filmmakers had a difficult time entering the unions--something that was essential in order to work on films.

This sparked a fledgling independent movement in the late 1980s and early ‘90s, opening opportunities to Cuaron, Lubezki, Del Toro and others. Some of the first films to come out of this effort were “Gaby--A True Story” in 1987, “Love in the Time of Hysteria” in 1991, “Danzon” in 1992 and “Cronos” in 1993--all of which garnered international attention and opened Hollywood’s doors for the Mexican filmmakers.

“The films had a different sensibility, some had humor, and they were artistic,” says director Taylor Hackford, who has worked with several of the Mexican filmmakers. “They made new, interesting films, and Hollywood recognized it.”

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“Gaby--A True Story” was originally intended to be made in Spanish. But director Mandoki’s plans changed when the promised financial backing from the government-subsidized film industry in Mexico fell through.

After struggling to secure financing and enduring countless battles with the Mexican bureaucracy, Mandoki finally found backers in the U.S., but on condition that the film be made in English.

The movie, which tells the story of a young girl with cerebral palsy who is determined to live a normal life, won international accolades and caught Hollywood’s eye.

“I knew that I had to make something so original and good that it would open doors for us anywhere in the world,” says Mandoki, 44, who lives in Los Angeles with his family. “But I never imagined it would have that kind of reception. Suddenly, agents started calling me.”

Within three years he directed another film, “White Palace,” starring Susan Sarandon. He went on to direct Andy Garcia and Meg Ryan in “When a Man Loves a Woman.” Mandoki’s latest film, “Message in a Bottle,” stars Kevin Costner, Robin Wright Penn and Paul Newman. It opened as the No. 1 film on Feb. 12, taking in about $19 million at the box office.

But while Mandoki was enjoying the success of “Gaby,” he was still keeping close contact with Cuaron, Lubezki and many of the friends he left behind in Mexico. Mandoki had hired Cuaron and Lubezki to work as assistants while filming “Gaby” in Mexico. As one of the oldest among the group of filmmakers, Mandoki took on the role of mentor.

The situation had not improved in Mexico, and many talented filmmakers, like Cuaron, were losing hope.

“Alfonso was working as a production assistant in a Mexican film. I told him he was more talented than that--that he should write a script,” Mandoki recalls.

So, Cuaron wrote a script. Mandoki then suggested he find financing to make the film.

“He said, ‘Where do I find the money?’ And I said, ‘I don’t know. Just find it, film it and then we will see what we’ll do,’ ” Mandoki says.

The final product? Cuaron’s hit “Love in the Time of Hysteria,” which was not distributed in the U.S. but was shown in private viewings and screenings. The film, which is a comedic look at dating, created a buzz in Hollywood. Mandoki then introduced Cuaron to studio executives, producers and his agent at International Creative Management who signed him on.

“For a while there, Luis was bugging me every day,” says Cuaron, who lives in New York but maintains an office in Los Angeles.

Three years after his debut, Cuaron directed “A Little Princess” and hired Lubezki as the cinematographer. The film, distributed by Warner Bros., received rave reviews even though the box-office returns were disappointing.

Even those like Mandoki, who were confident of Cuaron’s talent, were taken aback by the film.

“ ‘A Little Princess’ was for him what ‘Gaby’ was for me--it was a huge leap,” Mandoki says. “It was very moving for me to see people’s reactions to how talented Alfonso is.”

The story, a magical fantasy about a young girl living in a boarding school during World War I, tapped into the most creative, childlike aspects of Cuaron’s personality. “It was a purely joyful experience,” Cuaron says. “That movie is in my heart. It was as if the film had a life of its own and I was just asked to be a part of it.”

A self-described gypsy by nature, Cuaron says he never intended to settle in the U.S. But the success of “A Little Princess” made it difficult for him to leave Los Angeles, forcing him to do a very adult thing--rent a house.

After “A Little Princess,” he directed last year’s “Great Expectations,” which starred Gwyneth Paltrow and Ethan Hawke and was also filmed by Lubezki. Cuaron is now developing several projects with Warner Bros.

Still, the 37-year-old director is not lofty about his future plans. He says setting goals is “like trying to eat an elephant. You have to do that one teaspoon at a time. I just want to keep exploring all kinds of genres. I’m trying to find my voice.”

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Another of the pleasures in Cuaron’s filmmaking career has been to experience the highs and lows alongside his close friend Lubezki.

Though Lubezki’s first big break came in 1993 with another Mexican director, Alfonso Arau, in “Like Water for Chocolate,” his work on “A Little Princess” garnered him the most attention.

The 34-year-old cinematographer, who is affectionately called El Chivo (the goat), for his mischievousness, by his friends, was nominated for an Oscar for his work in “A Little Princess.” Among Mexican cinematographers, Lubezki is in limited company. Gabriel Figueroa was the last Mexican cinematographer nominated by the academy for his work on John Huston’s “Night of the Iguana” in 1964.

“Chivo is probably one of the top five cinematographers in Hollywood right now,” says Mark Johnson, who produced “A Little Princess.”

Like his friend Cuaron, Lubezki says he never planned to move to Los Angeles. But the amount of work he was offered after making “Like Water for Chocolate” made it impossible to leave.

But he’s so busy now that he’s rarely in town. And like Cuaron, Lubezki says he is still trying to stretch as an artist.”I am just learning constantly,” he says from London, where he is filming “Sleepy Hollow” with Tim Burton. “I would like to return to Mexico, but I’d like to work all over the world. I see film as something without borders.”

But if there is one constant in his life, it is his friendship with his Mexican colleagues. Though they are scattered about, with Mandoki in Los Angeles, Cuaron splitting his time between New York and Los Angeles and Lubezki constantly traveling on location, they talk several times a week. With their circle expanded to include other Mexican filmmakers in Los Angeles, their connection to Mexico endures.

“We are all like a family,” Mandoki says. “When I first arrived here, I was all alone. I always dreamed that all the others would come here, but I never imagined it would happen so quickly.”

Says Lubezki: “I really miss working with my friends more often. We have a common history, language and culture that makes it amazing to be together.”

On the rare occasions when the group can get together, they organize a dinner. Four years ago, they rented out a Westside restaurant and closed the place down. The bonds of friendship have been strengthened by their common experiences as immigrants.

“I’m the youngest in the group, and these guys have been my mentors and the shoulders I have cried on,” Hayek says. “Luis was the person who convinced me to stay in Hollywood when I was broken down and ready to pack my bags to go back to Mexico.”

Though they are eagerly taking on the bigger mainstream studio films, they would like to work on smaller independent films in Spanish that will not only allow them more artistic freedom but also the joy of working in their own language in a familiar culture.

“The trade-off we have for being here is that we can work on commercial films but eventually we’d like to return to Mexico to make those small projects that are very personal to us,” said cinematographer Rocha, who’s worked on such films as 1996’s “The Whole Wide World” and 1994’s “Picture Bride.”

They are also mindful of the many friends they left behind in Mexico. The flight of talent has left the Mexican film industry even more destitute. So, the ones who have made it are establishing production companies to help nurture talent in Mexico and distribute more Latin American films in the U.S.

Cuaron, Del Toro, writer Laura Esquivel (“Like Water for Chocolate”), sales agent Rosa Bosch and producer Berta Navarro founded the Tequila Gang based in London and Mexico City. The company has already produced one film, “El Embrujo” (Under a Spell), by Mexican director Carlos Carrera, and is working on producing Del Toro’s “El Espinazo del Diablo” (The Devil’s Backbone) set in Spain. Mandoki said he is also hoping to one day establish a production company in Mexico. There, some see the young filmmakers making it in Hollywood as a key to reinvigorating the Mexican industry.

“I applaud their successes in the United States,” says Mexican film historian Emilio Garcia Riera. “But I do hope that they continue to make Mexican films that have international appeal.”

And though they may not be screen idols like the Mexican stars of the 1930s and 1940s, this current generation of filmmakers is stirring a national pride of sorts with its accomplishments, says Mexican cultural critic Carlos Monsivais.

“This is a huge phenomenon for Mexicans in film,” he says. “This creates pride in the sense that Mexicans can compete professionally on an international level. This is a recognition of the professional and technical talent from Latin America, and that is very important.”