Review of Y Tu Mamá También (2001) by Blake P — 22 Sep 2015

It hit me a few years ago that the "forever" ideal of summer would eventually have to cease. Lazy afternoons, eternal pineapple cherry popsicles, dreadfully sun-soaked bouts yard work, and a barrage of yes, oh yes, movies, would someday disappear, if not decrease dramatically in stature. I think the realization came to a head my freshman year of high school, when I began to understand that sometime around eleventh or twelfth grade (it turned out to be twelfth), the usual stress-free days of sunny appreciation would be eschewed by adult responsibility, and that there would come a summer where innocence would be overtaken by a jaded, cripplingly mature mindset. Now that high school is behind me, I've discovered that such a transition only generally happens in the movies, or to the people so severely immature that reality ends up unexpectedly snapping their playfulness after a period of harsh self-reflection.

2001's "Y Tu Mamá También", now one of the most famous road movies of all-time, contains members of the latter camp, portrayed by brothers-from-other-mothers Gael Garcia Bernal and Diego Luna. Their reality comes in the form of Maribel Verdú, a sexy Spanish wife who meets the friends at a wedding and spontaneously hits the road with them after discovering her husband's indiscretions. The trip, said to be headed in the direction of Heaven's Mouth Beach (a destination the pair made up in a desperate attempt to impress their older female counterpart), is lined in endless sex talks and kept secret existential crises - but what begins as an endearingly vulgar tirade of exchanges turns sour when Verdú's Luisa decides to hook up with one of the friends, and when the pals reveal to one another that they've slept with each other's girlfriends on more than one occasion.

For most, "Y Tu Mamá También" is an emotionally revealing film, one in which inexhaustible harangue is a masquerade for the insecurities of its characters, deep and moving. I'm not so convinced. The dialogue has a this is how people talk impenetrability to it, and the frankness of the sexual scenes is refreshing in its ability to keep things largely uncinematic. It's a relative case of two irresponsible teens coming-of-age, all thanks to an in-crisis woman's decision to join in on their road trip and teach them about the sexual vulnerabilities, the hard truths, of life. It's bright, surprisingly melancholy entertainment rough in all the right spots - I'm just not so sure it's the masterpiece everyone says it is, in part to the insufferably obnoxious behavior of its characters and because its terrific, more tender moments, don't happen as much as they should. (The ending, however, unexpectedly bleak and unsentimental, makes up for the eye rolls that abound during its first act.) Alfonso Cuarón's direction is so unforced we have a feeling that the things that occur during its 106 minutes are sure to have happened in the real world. Verdú is a sexy but believably susceptible ball of fire that easily could have become the idyllic femme figure if not for the grounded nature of the film.

"Y Tu Mamá También" is frolicsome until it ceases to be so wonderfully manic, and it's that final snap that makes it better than the majority of coming-of-age films. It sees its immature characters from a heavenly distance that shakes its head in a knowingness that things cannot be kept so vulgar, so sex obsessed, forever. It can be wise when it wants to be - I just wish it spent less time beating around the bush and prolonged its bouts of aching truths.