Vende Caro o Teu Amor

I'm intrigued by the distinctive film genres which evolve among the world's cultures. Germany developed the 'mountain film' genre, in which a male hero (or sometimes two male rivals) will achieve greater self-knowledge high up in the mountains, in the presence of a beautiful Aryan woman who embodies the earth-spirit. Mexico developed the 'wrestling mummy' movie genre, about which the less said the better. But Mexico is also the home of the 'cabaretera' genre of movie musical, in which a beautiful young woman is caught between a soap-opera plot line and elaborate floor numbers set in a nightclub. The 1950 film 'Aventurera' ('adventuress') is the best of the cabaretera films, and it's delightful ... it's hokey and implausible, but in a very enjoyable way.

MAJOR SPOILERS THROUGHOUT. Lovely young Cuban actress/dancer Ninón Sevilla stars as Elena, a virginal (but gorgeous blonde) Mejicana who is utterly devoted to her father. When Papa learns that his wife (Elena's mother) is unfaithful, he shoots himself. Elena abandons her villainous mother, and goes off to Mexico City to seek her fortune.

She meets a handsome young man named Lucio who offers to protect her, and who immediately takes her to meet a domineering woman named Rosaura who offers Elena a cup of tea ... which turns out to be drugged. Lucio and Rosaura are 'white slavers' who plan to force Elena to use her body for their profit ... but it's not what you'd expect. Instead of prostitution, they force her to perform as the star of a cabaret act! Elena's cabaret numbers are campy, but I was relieved that they never quite sink to the Carmen Miranda level. (I despise Carmen Miranda.) The musical numbers are impressively staged, on a large budget, and are enjoyable in their own right... all with a Latin beat. The title song, a gentle ballad sung by a male soloist accompanied by Spanish guitar, is wistful and haunting.

Eventually Elena escapes from the nightclub. She meets a handsome and wealthy young man who wants to marry her, but first he takes her home to meet his extremely respectable dowager mother ... who turns out to be Rosaura the madame! There is some witty dialogue here. Rosaura (in her second guise) offers a cup of tea to Elena, who replies: 'I had some once. I didn't like it.'

Although the plot line is outrageous, it's also extremely predictable ... because (except for her dead dad) every major character whom Elena meets in the first half of the movie turns up 'unexpectedly' in the second half of the film, so eventually these 'unexpected' appearances become very expected indeed. At one point late in the film, as Elena walked back to her hotel room, I found myself thinking: 'Lucio hasn't come back yet: it's just about time for him to escape from prison and come looking for Elena.' Just as I thought this, Elena walked into her room and switched on the light. Guess who's sitting there.

'Aventurera' has some very strong 'noir' elements. Except for Elena and her father, every major character in this movie is unsympathetic. Based on the worldview depicted here, almost all women are treacherous ... and almost all men are criminals and perverts who exploit women. Interestingly, the sleaziest character in this movie is also one of the very few sympathetic characters. This is a filthy little toad-like derelict named El Rana, who has a talent for throwing knives. He attaches himself to Elena and follows her about pathetically. His appearance and behaviour suggest a stereotypical pervert, but his interest in Elena really seems to arise from dog-like affection rather than lust. At the end of the film, El Rana murders Lucio with a well-placed 'cuchillo', then he watches approvingly from the shadows as Elena goes off to seek a better life for herself. It's clear that this strange little man's interest in Elena is unselfish, and that he realises he's unworthy of her.

I'll rate 'Aventurera' 8 out of 10. Its depiction of life in Mexico is wildly unrealistic, yet it still provides an interesting view of Mexican culture ... because this is the sort of story that many Mexican filmgoers want to see.

"Aventurera" is a very good melodrama - meaning a drama spiced with musical numbers. But the drama turned, with the passing of time, into comedy. Well, anyway by seeing the picture I had the feeling that the actors were not really taking their part so seriously; what I mean is that it felt like they were having fun - the melodrama with its conventions, its stock characters and innumerable twists, had no surprises in store for them.

"Aventurera" has so many and such fantastic twists, right from the beginning, that is absolutely hilarious. The plot, as such, borders on the incredible, the coincidences abound - one is almost reminded of Buñuel. The objective of the film is naturally to entertain and for doing it, everything is allowed. The only thing demanded of the public was a complete suspension of disbelief and they were only too happy to comply.

The stereotyped roles presented by "Aventurera" demanded a stylized interpretation, so the film is a melodrama with a light touch - it tells a tragic story sprinkled with musical numbers. It entertains and thrills; the acting is not hysterical, on the contrary one could say that it's almost good-humored. Is this a contradiction? No, it isn't. The film woks well - it just tells a sad story with a smile on the eyes. And here enters the heroine.

Niñon Sevilla is wonderful - I'm not speaking of her acting qualities, because good acting was not demanded for her character and would only spoil the film. Niñon Sevilla is beautiful and full of charisma and charm. Her presence fills the screen. She's a naive, naughty and sensual woman - she really shines! One can say that the film is carried by her. But it would be unjust not to mention other actors such as Tito Junco (El Guapo), Andrea Palma (Rosaura) and Miguel Inclan (Ringo). One can detect a feeling of camaraderie among the actors throughout the film.

There's a musical number where Niñon Sevilla, dressed as Carmen Miranda, sings "Chiquita Bacana" in Portuguese! "Aventurera" is a really good film - it's a melodrama like no other. You'll laugh your belly out and Niñon Sevilla will charm your weary eyes.

"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 *****

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.

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).