It is early into the new Millennium when Alfonso Cuarón, the then little-known storyteller, introduces us to his vision and understanding of the “new” Mexico and the new Mexican cinema with his film Y Tu Mamá También.

Cuarón’s enlightens us with this chronicle of reality. A clear demonstration of his longing for a neo-realism revival (inspired by the Italian neo-realism movement of the post-war era) and a break from Mexico’s long addiction to Telenovela style that emerged in the 1960s.

Two main characters, Tenoch (Diego Luna) and Julio (Gael García Bernal). Two distinct social classes, two different upbringings, united by an emotionally charged, rollercoaster friendship. A third character, Luisa (Maribel Verdú) a sensual, mature woman and the wife of Tenoch’s cousin, becomes central to the boys’ complex understanding and experiencing of sexual realities and fantasies, as they embark on an unexpected (and perhaps unlikely) physical and emotional journey together.

It is clear, early in the film, that all three characters have secrets they are hiding, situations they’re running away from. Whether that’s Tenoch’s rebellious behaviour against his wealthy but absent parents, Julio’s lower-class worries for the future or Luisa’s fallen marriage and medical condition (we will find out about her cancer later in the film). It is a fascinating experience to watch them, to be part of their story.                                          

Close your eyes, imaging being Julio or Tenoch for a minute, imagine the sunshine at golden hour gently and warmly lighting up your face. You are driving towards the coastal Mexican paradise of “Boca del Cielo”. Picture being a free-spirited, care-free teenager, in a land of passion and tradition, your hormones bubbling up, leading you and enticing you in new experiences, new transgressions, new encounters in attractive landscapes. The world is yours to take.

The two teenage boy protagonists glide through the glorious yet traumatic experience of entering adulthood, just as the country they’re driving through, is changing in its social and political aspect too. From an unstable political scene, evolving (gloriously yet traumatically also) into a more democratic nation.

We chase the characters as they chase the sunshine with their dreams of glory. We follow them on a path made up of lust and laughter, of infidelity and rage, luck and misfortunes, denial of identity, changing of identity all through the outlands.

Slaves to their teenage hormones, the two boys find themselves competing to get their sexy older road trip companion’s attentions (and eventually, her body). Luisa, finding herself incapable of forgiving her husband’s constant cheating and allured by dreams of everlasting youth, gives in and lets herself get transported by a passionate threesome with the two much younger boys. In scenes that capture their relationship and their sexual fantasies we get to experience their frailty too - all under the Mexican moonlight and its bucolic landscape.

The layered narrative, intertwining segments of friendship and sexuality, of space and time, of hope and despair and of cultural meaning and transition makes us think, question and ultimately imagine the future of these two young boys, that have now, just before our eyes, entered adulthood.

The narrator in the background adds a second dimension to our perspective as viewers, making us dream of summer and think of social issues beyond the hedonism of both youth and impending death that with witness. The insights we get through this masterfully executed visual chronicle, allow us to understand the past, present and futures of our main characters and the society in which they live.

The ending is bittersweet. Tenoch and Julio, after having confessed sleeping with each other’s girlfriends, break their friendship and appear to be wanting to take different paths in life. There is no clear-cut ending and our own imagination and interpretation of events gives the story endless possibilities and renders us part of a narrative, adding a touch of familiarity to the events and a possibility of reflection on them – the ones that are being shown and the ones that are being kept secret or silent.

This road movie, with its cinematic realism and attention to detail and portrayal of crude emotions, captures both the subjectivity of the characters and of the landscape. Combining political and natural progression that evolve as the characters move within the story.

The observation that we want to make is that the film also plays into the new form of “Cinematic Tourism” - the relationship between film and tourism (the world’s largest economic sector).  To sum it up, we are talking about the virtual travelling culture effect, the manufacturing of desires and the selling of exotic fantasies to spectators, who are always placed outside the space where the stories are created and narrated, at a safe distance from both the wholesome locations and the “troubled” or “backward” societies which capitalism is destroying.

It is the artifact, the man-made image, that is the deepest object of our desire, truth is unimportant.