Original subtitles

Crónica, Mexico City. July 15, 1988

A REASON FOR CONTROVERSY IN MEXICO

Several years ago, in Mexico, a significant number

of foreign journalists and activists moved into our country.

Some local groups have shown hostility towards the activities

that these new visitors are carrying out.

Fiona Gaertner, an English activist and wife of U.S. journalist Leam Gaertner,

was among the victims.

The Gaertners met in Puebla and later they moved to Mexico City,

where their children Nico and Sebastián were born.

As they were still young children, the...

"Closed"

How did you get in, Sebastian?

My name is Nico. I'm a journalist.

At least, I'm trying to be.

But here I am again at 5:00 in the morning

in my rented studio in Puebla,

not sleeping and not writing a single paragraph.

I think of everything, obsessively,

except the article I have to write.

This is how my story began.

Coming back. From England to Mexico.

I was just 17 when I came here, alone,

dying to finally see the gigantic city

where my mother said I was born: Mexico City.

I've been a bundle of contradictions ever since.

At 17, I was still a sad kid,

a little arrogant, maybe, but also awkward.

Now I spend my days walking, looking at everything,

turning over rocks, trying to write a good story.

For me, London reemerges everywhere I look in Mexico.

As Martín Caparrós says,

"We arrive, carrying what we think we are going to see from somewhere else."

Like the old Chroniclers of the Indies, right?

I live here in Puebla,

and I travel to Mexico City once a week to work,

so I get the best of both worlds: beautiful Puebla,

and Joint Visions , a cool new journal based in el D.F.,

where I managed to land a job.

November 11, 2016. "Mexico City and the Global City"

By Nico Gaertner

The 21st century is characterized by a growing...

a growing movement of trans...

I'm from here. I was born here.

Hm, how ironic.

I could've stayed in London, but for what?

They wouldn't even let me see my mother.

What kind of person does that to a 16-year-old?

I'm a hybrid, thinking in English and Spanish,

a product of development and underdevelopment,

sometimes coherent, but usually incoherent.

And then... there's Monica.

Monica is Chilean.

I met her studying journalism in Puebla,

and she is the best thing that's happened to me

since I came here.

But like all dreams, love is subject to brutal awakenings

into silence, fear, a lack of something more.

When we say that the megacities are

When we say that all megacities

are starting to resemble each other...

Ah! Fuck!

You're fucking kidding me! Is this a joke? I can't write anything!

Not this guy in the hat who's always staring.

I guess it's only fair. I deserve some payback

for sticking my nose into other people's lives.

Hello?

I dropped by your house yesterday, but no one answered the door.

You really came?

Yes, I came by around 3 p.m.

Can you call me later? I'm kind of busy.

- Okay. - Cool.

- Okay, later. - Okay.

Nico... look...

I know you came, but... you've got me so annoyed!

Nothing flows right with you.

You might want to go on like this, but what about everyone else?

I came from Chile to study here, to feel good,

and then I wind up involved with you, the weirdest guy out there.

You should go back to London, or the U.S., or, I don't know.

Do as you please.

Nico, don't come back.

And that's how Monica disappeared from my life.

She got sick of me, simple as that.

She'll go back to Chile after she's finished studying here.

I'm sure she'll do well, unlike my mother.

What happened to my mother could never happen to Monica.

What could be worse than ending up

in a mental institution in London,

the cold city of London,

with its cold streets and its equally cold psychiatrists.

Monica.

Monica always seems to find the story that needs telling,

those particular angles I always miss.

She says Chile is an island with only seven faces,

and hers is one of them.

I think she got that from reading

about the films of Raul Ruiz.

and the last Thursday of every month. We'll be waiting for you!

For more information visit viajespuebla.com.

The people of Puebla shouldn't worry too much about safety in their state.

With the "Safe Puebla" plan, we will install more security cameras and lights

to cut danger and crime.

all night long, three-dollar drinks all night long.

Contest Thursdays in Rancho Oklahoma City. We'll be waiting for you!

see you there...

Grateful to God that he allowed me

to be born in the United States of America.

I love this country. I love this country! And...

Beginning at 9:00 a.m.,

when the new President gives his inaugural speech...

Members of congress talk about...

Hello?

Hi, where are you?

Hey, I'm still in Oklahoma.

You're still here? Why?

I told you I was gonna go follow

in my parents' footsteps and took some back roads.

I can't find anything to listen to out here.

Babe, you can't follow in your parents' footsteps.

They travelled 20 years ago.

- I know, but I can try. - Yeah.

And then, another 10 hours to Mexico.

But hey, I'm driving. I'll send you a message later?

Okay, I love you.

Love you.

Will be performing at the inauguration of the new president...

This could mean that not all...

It's Marxism re-written

and cut to fit a Black context.

Hey, I know you're busy, but...

With the baptism of the holy spirit,

evidence shows they were speaking in...

Criticized by the president elect,

who called climate change a hoax.

I do not believe that climate change is a hoax.

Okay, that's important for the president to hear.

Taking it further, Johnson told Ferris that if...

My country is falling apart,

and here I am heading south to Mexico.

What if they build that damn wall while I am there?

It could be for the best, really.

Maybe staying in that country that I don't even know

is just what I need.

Dad, I am on my way to Mexico,

wondering what made you and mom settle there.

It's ridiculous that I'm Mexican!

It's ridiculous that you insist

that my name has a written accent over the á .

If you only would've had the decency of telling me more

and not just focus on that,

with your bizarre jokes, honestly.

What if I was to say to my brother:

"Nico, I started a letter for you, but...

"I... I don't know what to say. I'm so torn.

How will I approach you when I get to Mexico City?"

I don't know. I feel that that's a little too dramatic.

Why don't you just say,

"Hey, this is your brother Sebastian from Oklahoma?"

Okay, that won't work.

Uh, you could just say, "What's up jerk?"

Sure, I could say that.

Or I don't know, just show up at his work.

What is it? Joint Visions?

Yeah, that's where he works.

That was the only thing I was able to find online.

I mean, for sure.

Wow, and now you're on your way to Mexico City.

Does your dad know?

No, I went to his house this morning,

and of course, he was there gloomy and mean, as usual.

Uh, can you please just look up

the address for Joint Visions again?

Yeah, sure, um, I actually have it right here.

It's on Avenida Juarez and Revilla...?

How do you say that? Um, Revillagigedo?

This city drags us along.

It grows like an animal deformed by some unknown drug.

With no mold, no plan.

Like a chain of lights, cars, and buildings.

It is monstrous and beautiful all at once. But what isn't beautiful in...

What's this guy's problem?

Lost something?

I've got to get back to Puebla.

I get so paranoid here in el D.F.

or Mexico City, or CDMX,

or whatever they want to call it next.

In the Rear Window, Jefferies also spied

on his front neighbors, or did he?

In Hitchcock's film, Jefferies was a photographer

whose life was paused because of a broken leg.

I'm more like some disturbed voyeur,

digging into people's lives

thanks to lack of sleep and a mental block.

Or in order to turn my back on my own,

let's say...

"Private Miseries."

That's what my favorite writer, Leila Guerriero,

would call the things inside these four walls:

a chair, a table, a kitchen

a bed, and random piles of books and clothes.

Oh, and the cat of course,

but she is far from a private misery.

What if I sorted out all my clothes

in my kitchen drawers like Slavoj Zizek?

He says it adds something special to his life.

The Hitchcockian characters across the street

seem to live normal lives.

I hope no one sees me and decides to say hello.

I can't hold a normal conversation.

Here I am again at 5:00 in the morning,

not sleeping and not writing a single paragraph.

What if I wrote about that building and the people in it?

I could start with that kid, staring into space,

looking for something in the stratosphere.

That could be the start of a beautiful story.

We walk, we move, but we never leave home.

This watch is the same one I asked my mum

to buy for me in London, a long time ago.

Leila Guerreiro quotes Rafael Gumucio

from Against Flaubert.

For Flaubert, he says,

Madame Bovary is a vengeance against her father,

against her uncles, against the entire city of Ruan,

against books, against nuns, against Republicans...

almost against everything.

The argument is unsettling to me, but also intriguing,

like so many others from Gumucio,

or Leila, or Caparrós, or Villoro,

or Cadena Martínez, who I read obsessively.

Hey Nico! How are things?

Pretty good. Well... trying to write.

And you're studying there in Puebla, right?

I already got a job. In Mexico City.

Okay, I read what you sent me.

It's pretty good, but I can tell you are...

tense, stiff.

What's up with that?

You have to tell that story with a little more...

tenderness.

Tenderness?!

What do you do all day long?

I walk.

But, what else?

Not much more.

I suggest...

you take a chill pill!

You want to write? Let your hair down, Nico!

Ugh.

Stop pulling your hair out when writing!

Today was a good day.

I wasn't able to start the story

of the kid staring into space,

but something supernatural did happen.

I finally spoke to Alberto Cadena Martínez,

all the way from Colombia.

Brilliant!

That really is supernatural.

He called me out though.

Hm, "me retó," as Monica would say.

Good thing too, since I have such writer's block.

Alberto says the key to writing a good story

is a particular point of view,

which doesn't just magically emerge out of research,

out of what I've been doing.

I do fuck all.

I walk around not even knowing what to look for.

But they say that can be an advantage for good writers too.

The truth is, my effort at this story

has become like a tornado sweeping me along.

Like in Oklahoma.

321?

What is 321?

You're right, Alberto.

I've got to put an end to this neurosis

and think... think calmly.

- Good day. - Yeah.

The usual?

Yeah.

Salud.

Oh, are you from Mexico?

Do I look Mexican?

He says that all the time.

Why?

He used to live in Mexico for the longest time.

That's why he comes in here.

The music.

Hey, Leam.

How goes it?

I liked it better when Luis played the old Mexican tunes.

Get him to play the old Mexican songs.

I'm with you on that. I'll take your recommendation.

What inhabits this burning red earth?

Is it abundance, or the vastness of a desert

plagued by churches, oil, and highways

that leads to an obscure border

like a blind, mad animal

that crashes into a wall it cannot see?

The wind blows, and we are far away,

and every border reminds us

that we cross it only when we're searching for something;

otherwise, every cage looks brilliantly tidy and clean,

like this one, where I find myself.

Are you hanging out or drinking or eating or...?

I'll be back in a minute for you.

Nico.

I've been unable to write you a normal letter.

So...

Here's what I really wanna say.

When I found out that you, Rose, and mom were gone,

all I could do was imagine where you were.

I spent hours looking in those geography magazines

that mom brought home from England.

I was looking for you guys in them.

Remember that feeling we had

that nothing would happen to us as long as dad was around?

Well, now he was the only one around,

but I was six, and he had shut off completely.

I don't know anything about you or if mom is in Mexico.

But at least I know where you are.

I'll find you guys.

I can't wait to get down there, especially now.

Have you seen what's happening in the US?

Maybe you can get me a job down there.

I also know that Latin American cities are gigantic,

one of them being Mexico City, where I'm headed to find you.

Instead, Ava, our Oklahoma town is very, let's say, lonely.

In Ava, you don't see many people walking,

except those loners that traverse endless pathways

seemingly going from one fast food joint to a dollar store.

And while shiny cars drive through town anonymously,

other lonely people hit one bar after the other.

I might sound dramatic, but this is what I see.

One of those people that hits those bars

during the day is our father, Leam.

Drug lord is now in U.S. custody

facing several charges...

Today began the trial in the case of the motorcyclist

who drove into a police station in Laredo.

The trial will take place...

Your call has been forwarded...

The storm initiated the conformation

of a tornado that most likely will pass

near the city of Moore in the State of Oklahoma.

Residents are already taking the necessary...

Federal Highway 85 Mexico

On the other side, everything sparkles,

bathed in a light that blinds our eyes.

The lines curve, the roads become irregular,

nature is wild and alive.

Like a party with no written end.

Like an impossible and mysterious world.

Why did I decide to write

about the world now, of all times,

right at the start of the Post-Truth age...

hm... like Villoro said in his talk on Tuesday.

Puebla belongs to another time.

It's like a Parisian city-scape,

frozen in time,

the cover of Benjamin's Arcade Project,

but in Mexico.

Re-thinking Benjamin in the context of Latin America

The Theorist of the Modern City. Berlin, Paris, Naples.

There's no one like Walter Benjamin.

He's unique, original, inexhaustible.

And reading him does me good.

I didn't know that the Parisian arcades he describes

are so much like the ones here in Puebla.

But these are tangled, baroque.

Mexico is not the capital of the world

like Paris was in the nineteenth century.

But why would anyone want to live

in the center of the world, anyway?

But why would anyone want to be in the center of the world anyway?

Here.

I'd love to be like Benjamin, hm.

To see the world through these urban surfaces.

Here in Puebla, everything is exposed

and concealed at the same time.

And here, in Mexico City, even more.

In this giant city, there's no time for fiction.

Anyone who's not wide-awake gets lost, forever.

To each their own.

Did this guy lose something too?

This is what's called "The Paranoia of Loneliness."

Chiguagua, Gómez-Palacio, Cananéa.

Welcome, sir. We can give you information.

My children, myself,

are little more than seeds adrift.

My children, swept away by the daily winds,

ask themselves questions whose meaning they've yet to know.

One day, they'll stop, and all the travelers you now see,

passing other travelers on foreign soil,

at bus stations, in the streets,

will be the very proof that what hurls us into the world

is what also forces us to endure, to return

to the origin of all things

when my seeds were newly bursting with light,

like a blameless and brilliant gift.

58 to Mérida and Yucatán, now completing boarding through door 18.

Hello... I'm a little lost,

but I'm going to Mexico City.

3700.

Please head immediately to door number 17.

You bribed him to play my Mexican music, huh?

Leam.

So, are you a Brit?

Last time, you asked me if I was from Mexico.

Yeah.

No, I'm from Oklahoma.

What I told you was last summer I went to England, for school.

Were you in London?

Uh, yeah, for about a month.

I was, like, drinking a little too much.

Um, why? Why do you ask?

Don't ask.

It's just a question. Why, Leam?

What?

In the late sixties...

your dad became totally involved in the movement of the day.

And after the Tlatelolco Massacre in Mexico...

he kept going back, returning to cover

the student protests against the government.

Since he was persecuted here...

He decided to stay there, in Mexico.

- He was about your age. - I don't know...

I know you don't know much about all this.

Everything your dad, Leam,

struggled for in the sixties and seventies.

Everything he wrote as a journalist was brilliant.

And look at the world today, Sebastian.

It's been real hard for me to witness your dad's downfall,

when so much is happening...

That needs to be analyzed,

contested,

with intelligence.

Look!

What's this catnip stuff?

Ah, the catnip stuff.

It may sound funny.

Even catnip was an issue.

But you know, after he met your mom,

your mother,

their activism became stronger.

She was even tougher.

Fiona... incredible woman.

A short time after you were born in Mexico,

you and your brother, Nico,

she was kidnapped.

How... how come my dad never told me about this?

Why are you telling me this?

'Cause there has been too much silence.

We've been quiet for too long.

When y'all came back from Mexico in...

'98. That's when Mom was pregnant with Rose.

In nine... yeah, that'd be right.

The nineties were difficult. Very difficult in Mexico.

They had no money,

but at least they had a house here... here in Oklahoma.

And when they came back,

everything seemed so great.

You know, your brother, Nico...

he loved that house,

more so than you.

Your dad...

Seems him and little Nico were like... like this, you know?

They were always playing at writing stories

for the newspapers up in the attic.

Remember?

No.

But your parents would not stop,

and vicious people are everywhere.

Leam, Fiona...

did not have a chance in Mexico, or even here.

Why didn't she take me?

Why did she only take Rose and Nico?

She did take Nico, Sebastian...

but she didn't take Rose.

They came back from Mexico

because of that house.

That house!

What!?

It happened on 321 Walnut Rd., in Ava.

The victim has been identified as 2-year old Rose Gaertner.

Around 6 a.m., police responded to a call

of people screaming outside the Gaertner's home.

When officers got to the scene,

they found Rose lying on the sidewalk.

She died at the scene.

Identified as 2-year old Rose Gaertner...

Screaming outside... she died at the scene.

The girl's parents have stated

they were the target of the assault.

They fear the lack of evidence...

the lack of evidence in the crime...

Porche model mattresses are on sale from $220.

Buy on credit for 15 monthly payments without interest,

and we'll throw in a gift box.

From the 4th through the 17th of this month, take advantage

of the credit we're offering at our locations throughout the city.

Find out about this opportunity at InspírateMéxico.com.

Participate from now until the end of the month.

No commitments attached!

Ma'am, we're calling you because your son has a bullying problem.

Really? Who's bothering him?

No, ma'am, your son is the one bullying others.

You need to take steps to modify his behavior.

Our psychologists here in Mexico City can help you and your son.

Call one of our offices for a free consultation at 555243...

Take advantage of the enhanced credit that will be easier to pay off.

With just 7.5% interest until January 31st.

Participate also in our monthly raffles where you can win...

I really enjoy it because it's based on poems

by Mario Benedetti and Oliverio Girondo.

The movie has a poem called "El espantapájaros",

which is what the movie is based on,

that speaks of finding perfect love or the love that left a mark on your life.

The main character is a prostitute and the other character is a poet

who spends more time working on advertising than on his career.

And the actor Nacha Guevara plays the role of Death.

She wants to take him away the day he stops writing poetry,

writing about feelings, love, sensations.

I love films.

I've seen a cult film called Blade Runner.

What do you think of Blade Runner?

Oh, you don't understand me, do you?

"No understand."

I've read La muerte del estratega.

It's a beautiful book. I like how it describes everyday details.

The main character of this novel meets Simón Bolívar.

When he enters a room to meet the Liberator of America,

there is a chair against the wall,

and he describes how the humidity eats away at the wall.

As a kid, I would see those drops of humidity

that looked like they were made of cotton and I would play at breaking them apart.

I like that. Álvaro Mutis is a great writer.

I've read a book called Stories for After Making Love.

More than anything, I bought the book...

Good afternoon! How do we get downtown?

We are downtown. Where do you need to go?

- Right to downtown. - This is downtown.

After this intersection and the next,

you'll find the Center Square and the cathedral on your right.

- Oh, okay. Thanks. - Sure.

"An imagined woman on the platform of any metro station in this city.

A woman who did not arrive,

who didn't come but nonetheless walks among the people

searching for the same exits as us.

An imagined woman, lost in the forest of Chapultepec

or in the thickness of some dream.

An imagined woman, simply, running away like all of them

from some photo no one has taken yet.

They walk with us, but don't know it,

they don't even imagine it.

We walk beside them on their behalf, on the same uneven pavements

or step on imagined leaves, perhaps already stepped on by them,

"who hardly insinuate the existence of the fall."

Sir... here.

- Here? - I'm going to that building.

If you are going up the street, I'll take you. Not a problem.

- Sir... No, no, no. Here. - Okay.

Hello?

Hey.

I got kicked out of Joint Visions.

Okay.

Yeah.

But I know what I'm gonna do. I know the city.

I've been walking around. I've been watching him.

He hangs out with this group that looks like

a modern fucking version of the Jack Kerouac-Neil Cassidy gang.

They do some kind of activism or something.

I think he saw me.

- Hello? - It's fine, Sebastian.

Just do whatever you have to do.

I'll talk to you soon, okay?

Hey, guys. This is Paige.

Leave a message, and I'll get back

with you as soon as I can.

Hey guys, this is Paige.

Leave a message and I'll get back with you as soon as I...

It's fine, Sebastian, just do whatever you have to do.

I'll talk to you soon, okay?

Hey, guys. This is Paige.

Leave a message and I'll get back with you as soon as I...

It's fine, Sebastian; just do whatever you have to do.

This is awkward.

Read this.

Instead, Ava, our Oklahoma town,

is very, let's say, lonely.

In Ava, you don't see many people walking,

except those loners that traverse endless pathways

seemingly going from one fast food...

one of those people that hits those bars

during the day is our father, Leam.

I really can't do this right now, okay?

Maybe later.

Okay.

I think, though, that, after all,

my friends might be right when they say

that the US is a better place than Mexico

with all that violence, and narcos, and...

but again, what consolation is that?

Ava is a sad little town that cannot grow

because of the backwardness of its people.

My own backwardness has kept me here.

And Dad's contempt towards me

is no more than his unbearable pain.

I am just there to pick up the pieces.

In the end, our faces are reflected in a mirror

covered in a dust that the rain cannot cleanse.

A mirror like the one I see in this tidy and clean cell.

November 23, 2016

No place is safe.

Auschwitz, the Tlatelolco Massacre,

the Oklahoma City Bombing,

Hiroshima,

horrible just like Alain Resnais showed in his film.

Venezuela, and the police brutality in the U.S.

Conflicts between countries are as paradoxical

as the ones that can destroy a family.

A REASON FOR CONTROVERSY IN MEXICO

"Closed"

Welcome to skylines, flight 382

to London Heathrow today.

Welcome on board. Lovely to have you with us.

As we leave towards the east this...

Dear, brother...

Now, crossing the Atlantic,

I can finally answer you,

at least in my head,

but with a sense that you can hear me.

Images cloud my mind

while that little Oklahoma town, Ava, appears in flashes.

The reds and oranges are what I see the most.

So we anticipate pushing back

a few minutes ahead of schedule.

The cabin crew will demonstrate the safety equipment procedures

of this aircraft, and we ask you to...

Now, crossing the Atlantic, I think of the wall

that's someday meant to divide Mexico and the US.

What a... hm... deplorable idea,

but of course, not surprising.

I'm glad you came to Mexico, Sebastián.

I'm glad you saw a little of the place where you were born,

although you came to save me, I know.

Smart move.

I'm glad you didn't just send me a text, dear brother.

And that your girlfriend understood,

that she didn't give up.

Emanates immense tenderness.

Violence can disrupt your life without even touching you,

like the spinning winds of a tornado.

While Monica heard horror stories

about the brutality of Pinochet in her attic,

in another attic, I invented stories

with my father and Lloyd.

"Remember Lloyd?"

They were always playing at writing stories

for the newspapers up in the attic.

Remember?

It was like a game, not knowing

that something devastating was coming our way.

DEBATE REGARDING TLATELOLCO

Seeing you has made me think again

about the Tlatelolco Massacre,

which our father reported,

and the Oklahoma City bombing,

which is somehow part of our own story.

Believe that a 1,200-pound car-bomb is what

ripped through the nine-story building shortly after 9:00 this morning.

- Many of the victims... - And years later,

even dad's favorite bar in Ava burned down.

- Hm. - On Tuesday of last week,

a lightning strike and the fire that followed...

gutted Leam Gaertner's "happy place."

Fire grew fast in this beloved bar of Ava with very little time to...

And thinking about our mother,

put away in London for as long as I can remember,

I think of what Tomás Eloy Martínez once said:

'When we read that there were one hundred thousand victims

'in a tsunami in Bangladesh,

'the data shocks us, but it does not move us.

'If we read, instead, the tragedy of a woman

'who has been left alone in the world after a tsunami

'and we followed step-by-step the history of her losses,

'we'd know everything there is to know about that tsunami

'and all there is to know about chance

'and about involuntary and sudden misfortunes.'

Your road trip brought all of this to me, dear brother.

It reminded me of the good life we had in Oklahoma.

February 8, 2017

But there are millions of other stories out there.

Where did the 21st century go wrong?

The planet is full of dictators, liars, weapons,

and yet we cling to the illusion

that we are moving forward.

That's why I read Walter Benjamin.

I don't believe in that progress either,

especially when I walk, looking around obsessively,

trying to understand... something.

That's what drove Mónica away, I'm sure.

Maybe as I try to write,

a nuclear bomb is crossing the Atlantic.

Maybe, right now, as I walk,

the world is turning into a mushroom cloud

in which we all burn like delicate autumn leaves,

slowly growing dark

and turning into fragile, gray, absurd ashes.

JOINT VISIONS. Mexico City, March 16, 2017

Chronicles

Oklahoma Mon Amour By Nico Gaertner

For Rose

In 1998, Fiona and Leam Gaertner traveled for nine days

through the north of Mexico, the infamous border,

the never-ending plains of Texas,

until reaching the reddish Oklahoma territory.

Fiona's dry but playful British humor helped them ease away

from their fearless activism.

She would say, for instance,

"England is an island with only seven faces,

and mine is one of them."

Sebastián's, let's say, "road movie" from 2016, also lasted nine days.

He was afraid to reach Mexico and Latin America,

while thinking that "his" own country was falling apart.

Oklahoma... who would have thought...

is the place that unites and separates them all,

as it is the center of so many stories

hidden underneath that reddish land that stretches on...