The fictionalized, yet personal story of the troubled relationship between the filmmaker and his own mother, ‘Mexico 86’ offers a viewpoint into the price women pay when trying to balance motherhood, and a revolution.

In the prologue to Mexico 86, Maria (played by the ever divine Bérénice Béjo) witnesses her husband’s murder from the window of her home in 1976 Guatemala, as she holds her newborn son in her arms.

To put this into context, the year comes in the midst of a military dictatorship, two years after the end of the short rule of Carlos Arana who was elected president in 1970 and lasted until 1974, and who placed the country under a state of siege, giving the military more control over civilians. By the mid-1970’s Kjell Eugenio Laugerud García had taken power, another military man whose appointment was always questioned, as was the legitimacy of the electoral process that put him there.This kind of dictatorship continued well into the next decade, as a series of military-dominated governments escalated violence against guerrilla groups and indigenous communities.

So in our story, Maria, a leftist militant herself, flees to Mexico, though her mother remains in Guatemala and promises to take care of her child Marco. Their other option would have seen Marco sent to a “beehive” in Cuba, a place where children of the Revolution would live together and be taken care of, never able to reconnect with their parents.

Fast forward ten years later. We find Maria living under cover in Mexico City, donning different wigs to work at a newspaper as a copywriter, communicate with her comrades, talk to her mom and son via public phones and generally carry on the good fight. When Maria’s mother (played brilliantly by the moving Mexican actress Julieta Egurrola) comes to visit, bringing with her the now 10 year old son Marco (lovely newcomer Matheo Labbé), things begin to shift in the story. But what never changes is Maria’s commitment to her country’s cause.

She is a remarkable woman with willpower and courage. Although, from her son’s POV, she will always remain a problematic figure.

What makes Mexico 86 so incredibly haunting and drives it home, even in those moments when it could lapse off or we could find ourselves thinking “that’s unrealistic!” is that the story is the filmmaker, César Diaz’s own. In his press notes, the director states “I was born in 1978, during the civil war in Guatemala. My mother was involved in the struggle against the dictatorship and had to go into exile in Mexico when I was 3 years old.” He continues, explaining in intimate details, “she did it for her own safety, but also in order to carry on the struggle. I remained in Guatemala with my grandmother. This is why I never was my mother’s son. I was my grandmother’s son, and I saw my mother as a friend, as a sister. I never doubted her love for me, but I needed her presence. She just couldn’t give it to me.”

While this situation isn’t a common one, it also doesn’t strike me as so unusual to be the child of leftist, revolutionary parents, for those of us born in the late 1960’s and early 70’s. From the leftist marches and revolts against the Vietnam War, held throughout the US, to the Chilean revolutionaries who fled, or perished, from the Pinochet regime, to the Red Brigades in Italy, which were manipulated and infiltrated to make communism appear a criminal political belief, the people who made up the corps of these revolutions must have all had children and families. And, I imagine, just as many stories to tell.

But Diaz is extraordinary in that he never judges his mother, instead filling his film with a sense of loss — her loss of being just a regular woman, something many of us take for granted and even complain about. And his loss, Marco’s from being her son, without all the tenderness and discord that could bring. What is apparent in Diaz’s soft masterpiece is how much he’s personally missed out on. From the simple luxury of having a meal with one’s mom, to the even more precious indulgence of arguing about the most mundane things — like which is our favorite soccer team and how we’d like to wear our hair.

The film’s title Mexico 86 refers to year the World Cup was held in Mexico. And Diaz once again sheds light on the importance of the year and the event in his story:

“I chose to set the story in 1986, the year of the World Cup in Mexico. That year is part of my childhood memories and offers an interesting contrast between the joyous popular atmosphere and the difficulties faced by the revolutionary militants. 1986 was also a pivotal year for Guatemala: the authorities had proclaimed an amnesty law which allowed the resistance fighters to surrender without punishment, as long as they collaborated with the government. Many militants who had grown tired of the struggle returned to Guatemala. Later, we learned that the government manipulated these reformed militants in order to strike the resistance even harder.”

Mexico 86 world premiered at this year’s Locarno Film Festival. It is written and directed by César Diaz, with cinematography by Virginie Surdej and editing by Alain Dessauvage. It is a production by Need Productions & Tripode Productions. International sales are handled by Bac Films International / Goodfellas.

Top image courtesy of the filmmaker, used with permission.