Once Upon a Time in Mexico (2003)
Written & Directed by Robert Rodriguez

I've come to love Robert Rodriguez's movies lately, having overcome a deep skepticism toward them fostered in the mid-90s, when anything related to Quentin Tarantino seemed immediately suspect. Not that I dislike Tarantino's films, but there were so many bad knockoffs of that style, which was already over-appreciated to begin with, that it was not as clear what would survive, and what would recede into flash-in-the-pan status.

The Spy Kids movies helped to turn me around on Rodriguez, as they demonstrated a scope of pure talent and imagination that makes most noted directors of the 90s (Tarantino included) look like the trendy hacks they were and are. Rodriguez hasn't made a legendary movie, and he's definitely turned out some real sloppiness, but his vision is superb, his sense of humor increasingly charming, and his ability to simply deliver is more consistent than that of any of his peers. The fact that he has shown a tendency toward dramatic improvement as opposed to dead-horse-beating indicates that he will probably start giving us actual, capital-C Cinema in the coming years.

But first, he needs to get the genre-tomfoolery out of his system, and for the most part, I support him in this, as his films are always, at least, fun to watch. Once Upon a Time in Mexico continues (and hopefully concludes) the saga that began quietly enough with El Mariachi and continued with the bigger-budget Desperado. Those movies were about equally enjoyable for different reasons; the first one was simply awesome in terms of what Rodriguez was able to achive with almost no money, the second one showed what he could do with a budget and some real actors.

The latest one suffers for a number of reasons, not the least of which is that it just isn't as fun to watch as the previous ones, or any of the Spy Kids flicks. The pace is, in several spots, absolutely leaden, and the structure is so disjointed that despite a great cast, there's no sense of any of the actors being in the same movie together.

I'm sure much of this was a somewhat loving, somewhat ironic, but definitely intentional, tribute to the sprawling and usually incomprehensible spaghetti westerns of yore, but frankly, if I want to watch that kind of thing, I'll just go get one of those movies. I wanted more here, more of a real point, more chemistry, more thrills. What I got was an admittedly captivating film in which there was not very much I remotely cared about.

With Mexico, Rodriguez's boundless creativity actually gets in the way. Any studio would give him whatever money he wants to make a movie, and he has his choice among great actors. At that point, you really need to be making something like GoodFellas, and leave the subversive videogeek hijinks back in the 90s with your Spin Doctors tapes.

OUATIM hints at Rodriguez's ability to create a real piece of art, but only haltingly … the tone of the movie vacillates crazily between outright camp, bloodlusty action, intelligent satire, subtle comedy, and homemade-video cheesiness. As with Prince or Ani DiFranco, Rodriguez at this point needs limits. Having grown accustomed to total control on his shit, it's going to take some discipline for him to break out of the potboiler realm and into the ranks of the truly great, as Hitchcock did, and Coppola, and Scorcese, and Coppola Jr.

All that said, there is still plenty here to enjoy. Johnny Depp gives another spellbindingly curious performance as a weird-swearing CIA agent with mixed motives (and a fake arm). Mickey Rourke is extremely sweet as a fugitive American criminal trying to reform himself (the chemsitry between Mickey and his real-life chihuahua is immensely appealing); it's another slam-dunk for him in another not-great-but-kinda movie following Spun. Rubén Blades creates a multifaceted FBI-agent character that I actually would love to see spun off. Eva Mendes is almost sizzling, even with Salma Hayek around.

Antonio Banderas is nothing you haven't seen; he actually doesn't get much to do here; neither does Willem Defoe as a drug cartel leader. Salma, O Salma, is only on hand for a couple of minutes, though one of her few short scenes is a brilliant barrel-of-monkeys escape with her chained at the arm to Banderas as they swing their way down a building's exterior. Enrique Iglesias is good, but unnecessary; Cheech Marin has an eye-patch.

There's an allegory to the characters and their actions that makes some cool points about Mexico, its people, and its murky politics (especially its twisted relationship with the US). I'd love to have seen this really fleshed out instead of buried in such an avalanche of violent setpieces that I simply became numb to what was going on. If it was going to be slow and ponderous, it might as well have taken its time and really done it, a la Once Upon a Time in America or The Godfather.

But as it is, it is what it is. A gigantic mess with undeniable value, like when you swallow a condom full of diamonds and then have to fish it out of your own poop.

Review by Jerry Howl