The fractured masculinities of Alfonso Cuarón | Little White Lies

In Praise Of

The frac­tured mas­culin­i­ties of Alfon­so Cuarón

13 Dec 2018

Words by Megan Wallace

Three adults looking at a camera together.
Three adults looking at a camera together.
The Mex­i­can director’s ear­ly Span­ish-lan­guage films offer vital dis­sec­tions of the male ego.

Roma sees Alfon­so Cuarón return to his Mex­i­can roots to tell a sto­ry of wom­an­hood through the eyes of an indige­nous maid named Cleo (Yal­itza Apari­cio). Yet any appraisal of the film seems incom­plete with­out acknowl­edg­ing two of the director’s ear­li­er Span­ish-lan­guage films, Sólo con Tu Pare­ja and Y Tu Mamá Tam­bién. Rau­cous humour and a frank explo­ration of sex­u­al­i­ty may be these films’ defin­ing qual­i­ties, but they also offer vital explo­rations of mas­culin­i­ty, fur­ther cri­tiquing racialised tropes link­ing Latin Amer­i­can men to hyper-masculinity.

Even in these ear­ly come­dies, which lack the grav­i­tas of Grav­i­ty and Roma, Cuarón por­trays his char­ac­ters with depth, nuance and sen­si­tiv­i­ty. Sólo con Tu pare­ja (Love in the Time of Hys­te­ria) fol­lows wom­an­is­ing ad exec Tomás (Daniel Giménez Cacho), who is false­ly diag­nosed with HIV at the height of the AIDS cri­sis. Envis­aged as a retelling of the Don Juan myth, a tale from 17th cen­tu­ry where an unabashed lothario receives divine pun­ish­ment for his sex­u­al exploits, the film offers a comedic assess­ment of hege­mon­ic masculinity.

With­in this frame, we’re encour­aged to cri­tique facets of tox­ic mas­culin­i­ty which man­i­fest them­selves in Tomás, par­tic­u­lar­ly his treat­ment of women. Women, to Tomás, are utter­ly dis­pos­able, with­out any indi­vid­u­al­i­ty, and only serve to bol­ster his ego; there’s even a scene where he’s on a date with two women at the same time.

Shadowy figure standing against wall, a person seated on floor in foreground

How­ev­er, we’re still urged to iden­ti­fy with his expe­ri­ence of stig­ma­ti­sa­tion and to recog­nise the vul­ner­a­ble per­son lying behind his ready humour and sex­u­al exploits. Through bod­i­ly ges­tures and an ani­mat­ed phys­i­cal­i­ty, Tomás’ body is marked as a site for spec­ta­cle, which the film deliv­ers on. Fre­quent­ly shot nude — whether in the midst of sex or com­plet­ing his morn­ing rou­tine of run­ning for the morn­ing paper while naked — he’s held up as a sex­u­alised body sub­ject to the spectator’s desir­ing gaze.

Yet as the film pro­gress­es, his fre­quent nudi­ty also cre­ates a sense of vul­ner­a­bil­i­ty and a lev­el of inti­ma­cy with the audi­ence. With­in Tomás’ iden­ti­ty cri­sis, we see a man strug­gling to rec­on­cile an iden­ti­ty built on being a desir­able male object with a new­found sta­tus as pariah.

In a sim­i­lar fash­ion, Y Tu Mamá Tam­bién (And Your Moth­er Too) shows a more vul­ner­a­ble side to mas­culin­i­ty, and explores what hap­pens when men fail to deliv­er on gen­dered expec­ta­tions. When teenagers Tenoch (Diego Luna) and Julio (Gael Gar­cía Berna ) set off on a road trip with a mys­te­ri­ous old­er woman (Mari­bel Verdú), the tone is of a raunchy teen movie. The film goes on to sub­vert our expec­ta­tions of the road movie, how­ev­er, as Tenoch and Julio’s agency is fre­quent­ly thwart­ed by Luisa; it’s always clear who is dri­ving the plot, and push­ing the young boys towards a path of self-dis­cov­ery at odds with macho ideals. Behind their inces­sant fart jokes and puerile sex­u­al exploits they are depict­ed as con­fused, inse­cure and ashamed.

At the film’s cli­max, a menage à trois with Luisa gives way to a same-sex kiss between the boys which elu­ci­dates the homo­erot­ic ten­sion that’s been build­ing through­out. The ado­les­cent char­ac­ters’ con­stant jeal­ousy and bick­er­ing are final­ly shown as prod­ucts of sup­pressed homo­sex­u­al desire. Yet rather than a moment of tri­umph, where the boys can final­ly emerge from the clos­et, the after­math shows them heav­i­ly bur­dened by shame.

Wak­ing up naked in one another’s arms, the shock (and hang­over from the pre­vi­ous night’s drink­ing) leads to Tenoch run­ning out­side to be phys­i­cal­ly sick. His phys­i­cal recoil embod­ies a vis­cer­al rejec­tion of his bisex­u­al desires and the film’s homo­erot­ic sub­text. In the final scene, despite their long his­to­ry, the boys act like strangers when meet­ing for the last time. See­ing a queer iden­ti­ty at odds with mas­culin­i­ty, their friend­ship and mutu­al desire must be repressed in order to return to the path of gen­der conformation.

As soci­ety verges towards a gen­er­al reassess­ment of gen­der, reject­ing many pre­con­ceived notions about sex­u­al ori­en­ta­tion and gen­der roles, these two films become essen­tial view­ing. For obvi­ous rea­sons, issues of inequal­i­ty or cri­tiques of gen­der roles have been pri­mar­i­ly approached through a fem­i­nine lens. How­ev­er, no reap­praisal of women’s tra­di­tion­al role would be com­plete with­out a sim­i­lar assess­ment of mas­culin­i­ty. In this regard, Y Tu Mamá Tam­bién and Sólo con Tu pare­ja are huge­ly impor­tant for the respec­tive ways they depict men as equal­ly bur­dened by gen­der expectations.

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