Knight at the Movies ARCHIVES
Chicago Latino Film Festival:
The Almond Tree Msytery, Supreme Uneasiness
4-13-05 Knight at the Movies column
By Richard Knight, Jr.
Chicago’s Latino Film Festival, which kicked off April 8th and continues through the 20th, is the largest of its kind
in the country. Yet the fest, in its 21st year, which will screen almost 100 films and videos before it wraps up, is
only including two movies with specific gay and lesbian content. Really? With over 30,000 moviegoers in
attendance fest organizers couldn’t find a few other films that focused on queer culture, Latino style? Perhaps this
complaint is naive on my part. This is my first experience with the fest and maybe there’s a reason why the ratio
of queer themed movies is so low – though that’s hard to fathom. Whatever the reason, this year’s two entries – a
messy comedy-drama and a riveting documentary – couldn’t be farther apart in terms of quality.
The dramedy is The Almond Tree Mystery (El Misterio de los Almendros), directed by Mexico’s
only openly gay director, Jaime Humberto Hermosillo, who is known in the U.S. for his lukewarm mid-80s gay
comedy Doña Herlinda and Her Son. Set in a nameless urban Mexican locale, El Misterio is the story of Javier and
Alfonso, two macho detective wannabes so eager to be assigned a case that they agree to go undercover as gay
lovers. This sort of thing was not very funny when Ryan O’Neal and John Hurt did much the same thing in 1982 in
Partners.
The “Mystery,” as it were, involves a wealthy woman named Mrs. Josefina, who is referred to as “Lady Open
Mind” because she loves gays and lesbians, political subversives, and all things liberal. But somehow, houseguests
at her fabulous estate have a way of turning up dead – including a lesbian named Carmen who had a lover named
Raquel. I think – and it was never really clear to me – that Raquel or Carmen did a painting that ended up
disappearing when Carmen’s mutilated body was discovered. The nameless client doesn’t care about finding
Carmen’s killer – though Lady O.M. looks like a probable culprit – he just wants Javier and Alfonso to see if Mrs.
Josefina has the painting and to get it back.
It’s also not clear who the client is who hired the bumbling detectives in the first place, why the painting is such a
big deal, how it connects to the client, why the client didn’t just hire gay men to pose as art dealers and try to buy
the painting in the first place, not to mention why Mrs. Josefina is so devoted to Our People in the first place. The
biggest mystery is how this minefield of plot holes ever made it past the drafting stage and wound up on the
screen. The main idea seems to be a desire to create a reason to force the two straight characters into playing gay
to confront their own prejudices but talk about taking the long way home!
At any rate, Lady O.M., who has never seen her houseguests, welcomes the two guys with open arms while
thoughtfully pointing out the gay porn magazines she’s stocked their room with and suggesting that the two treat
the weekend as “clothing optional.” “I adore being surrounded by people like you,” she says in all seriousness, “I
learn from you.” What that might be we never find out.
At this point the two detectives seem to have wandered onto the set of one of those Palm Springs gay retreats and
Javier is ready to clear out. Alfonso, on the other hand, quickly strips out of his clothes and after some playful
bantering with Javier, is swimming naked and snooping around looking for clues to the painting’s whereabouts. As
the film and the strands of the plot unwind at a dizzying pace, there is, of course, an increase in the sexual
undercurrent between the two men. There’s also a subplot with the nosy maid, a rape scene, a couple of murders,
and a melodramatic head scratcher of an ending.
None of it makes much sense (and the broken English subtitles don’t clarify much) and you hardly care that the
mystery fritters away by the fade out. Clearly the director had some kind of agenda though based on the evidence,
couldn’t figure out a way to share it with the audience. Plenty of full frontal male nudity, however, might tip the
scales for some viewers.
After the ridiculousness of Hermosillo’s film it was indeed a pleasure to revel in the sublime The Supreme
Uneasiness (Desazón Suprema), a documentary about the life of Colombian writer Fernando Vallejo.
Vallejo is perhaps best known in this country for the novel “Our Lady of the Assassins” and Barbet Schroeder’s film
based on it (Vallejo also wrote the screenplay). A long time critic of Colombia’s corrupt government, Vallejo, now
a resident of Mexico, is also openly and defiantly gay. When asked by a snippy reporter if he is gay, straight or
bisexual he replies, “Bi-sexual. I like men AND boys.”
I’d not been familiar with Vallejo’s works other than a brief overview of “Our Lady” before watching this tough yet
lyrical documentary by Luis Ospina which was released in 2003. But after hearing Vallejo read excerpts from his
five autobiographical novels, listening to his discourse on everything from Colombia’s drug cartels to his immense
love for his dog Kim and his embrace of his gay sexuality, count me as his newest convert.
Vallejo’s uncompromising political and artistic opinions are somehow tempered by the gentle way he delivers them
and I found him a fascinating documentary subject. As he returns home to Colombia to revisit childhood
landmarks, see old friends and through interviews with family members and creative peers, his passionate,
creative spirit is captured by the camera. And considering Colombia’s embrace of kidnapping, torture and murder,
the addition of the family’s home movies are like tiny time capsules into a halcyon past. Along with Vallejo’s poetic
insights (and I naturally loved what he has to say about writing), however, the film doesn’t stint on the brutal day-
to-day existence of the country’s warring political factions. His criticisms of Colombia’s culture of murder are
illustrated with graphic shots of unearthed, mutilated victims. The Supreme Uneasiness (Desazón Suprema) is
not for the faint of heart but it rewards those with a touch of the poet in their soul – or an appreciation for same.
The Almond Tree Msytery, Supreme Uneasiness
4-13-05 Knight at the Movies column
By Richard Knight, Jr.
Chicago’s Latino Film Festival, which kicked off April 8th and continues through the 20th, is the largest of its kind
in the country. Yet the fest, in its 21st year, which will screen almost 100 films and videos before it wraps up, is
only including two movies with specific gay and lesbian content. Really? With over 30,000 moviegoers in
attendance fest organizers couldn’t find a few other films that focused on queer culture, Latino style? Perhaps this
complaint is naive on my part. This is my first experience with the fest and maybe there’s a reason why the ratio
of queer themed movies is so low – though that’s hard to fathom. Whatever the reason, this year’s two entries – a
messy comedy-drama and a riveting documentary – couldn’t be farther apart in terms of quality.
The dramedy is The Almond Tree Mystery (El Misterio de los Almendros), directed by Mexico’s
only openly gay director, Jaime Humberto Hermosillo, who is known in the U.S. for his lukewarm mid-80s gay
comedy Doña Herlinda and Her Son. Set in a nameless urban Mexican locale, El Misterio is the story of Javier and
Alfonso, two macho detective wannabes so eager to be assigned a case that they agree to go undercover as gay
lovers. This sort of thing was not very funny when Ryan O’Neal and John Hurt did much the same thing in 1982 in
Partners.
The “Mystery,” as it were, involves a wealthy woman named Mrs. Josefina, who is referred to as “Lady Open
Mind” because she loves gays and lesbians, political subversives, and all things liberal. But somehow, houseguests
at her fabulous estate have a way of turning up dead – including a lesbian named Carmen who had a lover named
Raquel. I think – and it was never really clear to me – that Raquel or Carmen did a painting that ended up
disappearing when Carmen’s mutilated body was discovered. The nameless client doesn’t care about finding
Carmen’s killer – though Lady O.M. looks like a probable culprit – he just wants Javier and Alfonso to see if Mrs.
Josefina has the painting and to get it back.
It’s also not clear who the client is who hired the bumbling detectives in the first place, why the painting is such a
big deal, how it connects to the client, why the client didn’t just hire gay men to pose as art dealers and try to buy
the painting in the first place, not to mention why Mrs. Josefina is so devoted to Our People in the first place. The
biggest mystery is how this minefield of plot holes ever made it past the drafting stage and wound up on the
screen. The main idea seems to be a desire to create a reason to force the two straight characters into playing gay
to confront their own prejudices but talk about taking the long way home!
At any rate, Lady O.M., who has never seen her houseguests, welcomes the two guys with open arms while
thoughtfully pointing out the gay porn magazines she’s stocked their room with and suggesting that the two treat
the weekend as “clothing optional.” “I adore being surrounded by people like you,” she says in all seriousness, “I
learn from you.” What that might be we never find out.
At this point the two detectives seem to have wandered onto the set of one of those Palm Springs gay retreats and
Javier is ready to clear out. Alfonso, on the other hand, quickly strips out of his clothes and after some playful
bantering with Javier, is swimming naked and snooping around looking for clues to the painting’s whereabouts. As
the film and the strands of the plot unwind at a dizzying pace, there is, of course, an increase in the sexual
undercurrent between the two men. There’s also a subplot with the nosy maid, a rape scene, a couple of murders,
and a melodramatic head scratcher of an ending.
None of it makes much sense (and the broken English subtitles don’t clarify much) and you hardly care that the
mystery fritters away by the fade out. Clearly the director had some kind of agenda though based on the evidence,
couldn’t figure out a way to share it with the audience. Plenty of full frontal male nudity, however, might tip the
scales for some viewers.
After the ridiculousness of Hermosillo’s film it was indeed a pleasure to revel in the sublime The Supreme
Uneasiness (Desazón Suprema), a documentary about the life of Colombian writer Fernando Vallejo.
Vallejo is perhaps best known in this country for the novel “Our Lady of the Assassins” and Barbet Schroeder’s film
based on it (Vallejo also wrote the screenplay). A long time critic of Colombia’s corrupt government, Vallejo, now
a resident of Mexico, is also openly and defiantly gay. When asked by a snippy reporter if he is gay, straight or
bisexual he replies, “Bi-sexual. I like men AND boys.”
I’d not been familiar with Vallejo’s works other than a brief overview of “Our Lady” before watching this tough yet
lyrical documentary by Luis Ospina which was released in 2003. But after hearing Vallejo read excerpts from his
five autobiographical novels, listening to his discourse on everything from Colombia’s drug cartels to his immense
love for his dog Kim and his embrace of his gay sexuality, count me as his newest convert.
Vallejo’s uncompromising political and artistic opinions are somehow tempered by the gentle way he delivers them
and I found him a fascinating documentary subject. As he returns home to Colombia to revisit childhood
landmarks, see old friends and through interviews with family members and creative peers, his passionate,
creative spirit is captured by the camera. And considering Colombia’s embrace of kidnapping, torture and murder,
the addition of the family’s home movies are like tiny time capsules into a halcyon past. Along with Vallejo’s poetic
insights (and I naturally loved what he has to say about writing), however, the film doesn’t stint on the brutal day-
to-day existence of the country’s warring political factions. His criticisms of Colombia’s culture of murder are
illustrated with graphic shots of unearthed, mutilated victims. The Supreme Uneasiness (Desazón Suprema) is
not for the faint of heart but it rewards those with a touch of the poet in their soul – or an appreciation for same.
Melodrama Central and a moving portrait of an exiled artist
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