Aventurera

"Aventurera" has all the trappings of a modern, classic noir film. It contains, but is not limited to, an exciting robbery heist gone wrong, double crossing, sexual innuendos, a dastardly mother, and a femme fatale that can not only hold her own with the guys, but dance whenever a moment gets too tense. If it weren't for the subtitles or the Spanish-language, this little film could have been the next "Gun Crazy" (aka "Deadly is the Female"). Made during an era where films were willing, and excited to take challenges, "Aventurera" begins with a bang and ends with a bigger bang. It successfully keeps your attention through numerous characters, both evil and righteous, while continuing to keep you in the dark about the true motives of our heroine, Elena (played by Ninon Sevilla). It is a classic, it is independent, it is violent, but it isn't perfect. While I laud the work done on this film, it was not as entertaining as one may initially perceive. This is a noir film, it is stylish and backstabbing all at the same time, but there is another element throughout the film which heavily pulls it away from the true roots of the word "noir", and that my friends, is the nearly half-dozen song and dance routines smitten throughout. These songs, these two-steps, detract from what is happening, they pull you away from the world surrounding our characters, and honestly, are used as nothing more than filler. A 70-minute film easily became 101-minutes with songs diced throughout. It is the one crucial element that pulled "Aventurera" from a supporting noir to a mediocre entry into 1940s cinema.

What was there to enjoy about this film? Outside of the painful moments mentioned above, the characters were rich, the story was disturbingly dark, and the twists came from every angle, nearly a mile-a-minute. This was an action packed thriller that would have left little time for comfort had it not been for those songs. There were people we couldn't trust, people that we did – but betrayed us, there were scandals, there were loves, there were blackmails – everything was in place for a solid film. Even the subtitles were strong, giving us a strong plot and easily following structures, but those songs – ARG! I digress, Ninon Sevilla portrayed Elena as this no-nonsense girl who wasn't afraid to show her emotion and be the one to take the lead. Videohound's Independent Film Guide quotes, "Before we saw it ["Aventurera"], we'd never heard of its star, Ninon Sevilla, and now we can't wait to see some of her other movies…", and I couldn't agree further. She captured the audience through the screen. We followed her, willingly or unwillingly, we kept our eyes close on her every move, wondering when her next big move was being planned or what cog we were going to witness in her overall master plan. She made this film exciting. Sevilla could even sing and dance, and while it was a distraction from the film, she was graceful and elegant in the way that she did it. I cannot fault her, only the choice of the creators.

Speaking of the creators (awesome segway), compliments must also be awarded to the writer and director of this film. Sans the dancing and singing, this is a strong unknown entry into the world of foreign noir. The story was tight; the tension between the actors felt real, and the construction of the story seemed solid. There were elements that felt too lightly handled, but when it came to the big bang moments, the team behind this film had no problem showing us their goods. "Aventurera" shocked me, much like other films from the 40s, with its dark sexual undertones. From the beginning of our film, we are introduced to infidelity and prostitution, and the bus doesn't stop there. This pushed the boundaries for this film and demonstrated a darker side of noir that reminded me of an early American noir feature entitled "Detour". Just like Ulmer, the creators of "Aventurera" have no issues with showing us poverty, and how the corrupt value of money can spark even the slightest greed in any heroine. On a side note, I especially enjoyed the portrait of Rengo, this crippled sidekick that steps out of the shadows for his heart. "Aventurera" is a very suspenseful film, and was able to keep this audience right at the edge of my seat.

Overall, this isn't a perfect film. This is a noir film from the top to the bottom, but in the middle there is a muddled murkiness that doesn't seem to fit and was added just to appeal to a masculine audience. If I have said it before, I will say it again; the song and dance numbers were destructive to this feature. They felt like commercials, interrupting key moments with breaks, only to return with this viewer feeling less excited about the future. There is one song which Sevilla wears bananas while dancing which brought me into a frustrating sweat due to its similarities to a horrid pseudo-documentary entitled, "Carmen Miranda: Bananas Is My Business". This was the only moment where "Aventurera" felt stale and cliché. Was this overplayed Spanish-speaking cliché used only because it wanted to assure American audiences that they were in Mexico? Again, I cannot sit here and say that I loved everything about this film, because it would be a lie. I loved the juxtaposition between Sevilla and her arch rival, Rosaura (played by Andrea Palma) – their scene shot sparks from my DVD player. The characters are worth viewing this film once, maybe twice, but the songs are fast-forward-able. I can suggest it. See how dark in the late 1940s were for those living in Guadalajara.

Grade: *** ½ out of *****

"Aventurera" has a good plot, but unfortunately the script was so watered down that all of its edginess is gone and what's left doesn't exactly make much sense. I assume it's because Mexican censors of the day wouldn't allow the film to be as explicit as it needed to be-- hence it comes off as a bit of a letdown. So, in many ways it is reminiscent of a post-code Hollywood picture--gutted of its sexuality and sordidness.

When the film begins, Elena is a happy young woman and her life seems wonderful. However, soon everything is in shambles and she's fighting to keep herself alive. It all begins when Elena's mother takes off with another man. The father, in his grief, commits suicide! Suddenly, Elena is forced to fend for herself and she cannot find a job. A 'friend' offers to help her and after he gives her some adulterated champagne, she awakens to find herself in captivity--forced to work for an evil lady.

At this point, you assume Elena is going to be a prostitute--and it looks as if that is what the film WANTS to say. However, this 'debased life' involves being forced to sing at a nightclub!!!! Huh?! Does this make sense?! Nah. They really are attempting, in a very clumsy way, to imply she's a prostitute and sleeps with customers--though you never see anything remotely like this and it's obviously a case of over-sanitizing the plot.

What follows is a plot by Elena not only to escape from her boss but to ruin her. The idea of this is great. But, like the whole prostitution angle, the film avoids the gritty angle and wimps out twice. First, the evil slasher Rengo inexplicably does NOT kill or disfigure Elena when he's ordered to but instead becomes her evil guardian angel. Why? I have absolutely NO idea. Second, after carrying out her plan to destroy the woman, Elena gets cold feet and backs off from her plan to ruin the 'lady' and her son. Why? Again, I just don't know!

Overall, this could have been a gritty and exciting film. Had it been made in France at the same time, it would have been dark and much less sanitized. While this is supposed to be one of Mexico's better films of the era, I just found it all to be a boring mess which again and again failed to capitalize on a decent story idea.

Although they are often linked abroad, music and noir don't usually go together in Hollywood movies. Two exceptions are Anthony Mann's 1944 Minstrel Man and Gregory Ratoff's 1939 Rose of Washington Square in which Tyrone Power plays an even sleazier and less likable male lead than Tito Junco in Alberto Gout's celebrated Mexican noir melodrama, Aventurera (1950). At least Junco manages to stay on his feet, whereas Power not only runs out on and sells out the singing heroine (Alice Faye), but is deservedly beaten up by the comedian, as well as jumping bail and betraying his friends. He's not only a sneaky, repulsive, self-serving little rat like Junco, but he's cowardly as hell as well, which puts him one up on the Mexican "pretty boy". Like Rose, Aventurera is superbly photographed (by Alex Phillips) and also boasts a splendid gallery of supporting figures, led by Andrea Palmer's Joan Crawford-like madame and Miguel Inclan's remarkable Rengo who starts off as the most despicable criminal in the movie, yet becomes at the film's end by far the most sympathetic – and without changing his character! He's still just as hideously loathsome, but now we like him! A remarkable acting job by Miguel Inclan – and all in dumb show. He doesn't speak a word. And as for the lavish staging of the musical numbers, Aventurera easily gets the nod. Albert Ketelbey's "In a Persian Market" receives a truly rousing treatment not only from the orchestra and dancer-choreographer-heroine Ninon Sevilla, but from veteran film editor, Alfredo Rosas Priego (no less than 240 movies, would you believe?). As for Senorita Sevilla, she is nothing short of marvelous. (The film is available on two good DVDs, but the unsubtitled release has far better sound).

The 'Cabaretera' became a staple of Mexican cinema in the late 1940''s and reflected increased urbanisation and the darker side of the post-war economic boom. The most popular star of this genre was undoubtedly Cuban-born Ninón Sevilla and although her finest role was provided by Emilio Fernández in 'Victims of Sin', it was this first of three 'Rumberas' she made for Alberto Gout that put her firmly on the map.

Her transition from wide-eyed innocent to avenging angel is wondrous to behold and her scenes with the excellent Andrea Palma are utterly riveting. The rat here is not for once played by Rodolfo Acosta but by Tito Junco whilst Miguel Inclan is an absolute riot as a knife-wielding, hunchbacked mute. Senorita Sevilla is of course in her element in the production numbers which resemble Columbia's low-budget musicals of the era. At one point she is obliged to do a Carmen Miranda and seeing her sporting a pineapple headdress one shudders to think what sort of vehicles and costumes the Hollywood studios would have put her in had she accepted their offers. As it turned out her frank sexuality kept the film out of American theatres throughout the 1950's courtesy of that arbiter of public morals, the benighted Production Code.

There are sufficient plot twists to maintain one's interest with the 'noir' touch supplied by Canadian-born cinematographer Alex Phillips and Antonio Diaz Condes' rather overripe score matching the melodramic mood.

Subtlety is not exactly the name of the game here and this piece has been variously described as 'high camp' and 'kitsch' but Gout has directed proceedings with flair and of its type the film remains quintessential.

This greatly satisfying 1950 Mexican film, directed by Alberto Gout, is one of the best of the genre. It helped to have cast a charismatic Ninon Sevilla to star as the woman at the center of the action.

The story of "Aventurera", with its twists and turns, is something that was typical of the 1950s films from Mexico. The story of a young, and naive young woman who learns about her mother's disloyalty to a father she adores, sends this film spinning into a real adventure. Along the way, we are taken to watch Elena Tejero deal with the evils around her. She will remain a good woman no matter what.

As in all the Mexican soap operas that are a staple of that country's TV, "Aventurera" keeps building up on unsavory situations where our heroine will have to fight against until everything turns well at the end. Elena Tejera is different in many ways; she never stoops low to the sleazy life where everyone wants to get her into.

Ninon Sevilla, the Cuban born star of "Aventurera" makes a charismatic appearance in the film. She is a gorgeous woman seen here at the height of her youth. Tito Junco as Lucio Saenz has some good moments. Andrea Palma is excellent as the villainous Rosaura and Ruben Rojo is the kind Mario.

This is a fun film that keeps delighting us.