By Aurora Percannella
Have you ever seen one of those majestic California sunsets that regularly cover this portion of the West Coast sky in shades of violet, pink, orange and red? Hollywood movies abound with them, often creating a magical on-screen interaction between the beautiful evening light and the wealthiest Los Angeles neighborhoods that Hollywood predominantly portrays.
In Aurora Guerrero’s film Mosquita y Mari, this standardised perspective is taken and reinterpreted completely. You can still see bits of those majestic California sunsets, but their dreamy colours are interrupted by a world of concrete, wires, industrial plants and highways.
It is the real Los Angeles, or at least a more authentic and less known version of it, that queer, Mexican American filmmaker Aurora Guerrero shows her audience, whilst developing the innocent story of two Mexican American teenage girls’ love for each other within the difficult context of a struggling immigrant community in the outskirts of L.A.
Fascinated by her unique perspective on one of the most commonly oversimplified – but actually socially intricate – metropolitan areas in the world and inspired by her desire to make a difference through filmmaking, I sent Aurora Guerrero a few questions via email. What follows is our virtual conversation.
AP: You set your film in a marginalised Latino community in Los Angeles, a city that is mostly known – internationally – for Hollywood and the mainstream film industry. Was your intention to reject Hollywood’s hegemonic representations completely or to engage with them in a debate, by introducing diverse perspectives into the picture? In other words, was it a conflictual or a discursive choice? If the former, was the process of not inadvertently falling into cinematic ideals difficult at any point?
AG: Creatively, writing about the worlds I navigate on a daily basis comes natural to me. But as a socially conscious filmmaker, I am definitely aware and motivated by how rare it is to see myself or my communities depicted at all or with any kind of real depth within the Hollywood system. The only time this becomes an “issue” is when it comes time for raising the funds. But I never let it alter my story or my voice. If I did, I’d be, well, dead artistically.
Though originally from San Francisco, you lived in the City of Angels for a while and decided to set your film in Huntington Park. What about this city/neighbourhood/area/community (help me out here, it’s always so difficult to define Los Angeles sprawliness) inspired you politically and artistically?
Huntington Park is a neighborhood in Los Angeles overshadowed by freeways and industrial plants. I think many people drive by this area unaware of the humanity and beauty that lies within these toxic walls. I thought this landscape would serve well as a metaphor for my story of two girls struggling to embrace their love for each other as they face the realities of growing up in an immigrant working class community where survival and hustling are the priority.
As a queer Xicana filmmaker, how did you manage to hear, recognise and follow your divergent artistic voice in a world that still systematically marginalises and reproduces differences?
I was influenced by very political writers such as Cherrie Moraga, Gloria Anzaldua and Audre Lorde. Their work inspired me to draw from my lived experiences and to honor the multiple lenses I see the world through. If I try to write outside of this philosophy, then I’m no more than a machine spitting out stories that most likely have nothing to offer the world.
You’re often described as a film director AND an activist. Would you agree? If so, what are your goals as an activist?
I think so. Through content, I hope to provide other activists (especially those working directly with communities of color) with art that serves as a tool for social justice. And as a filmmaker, I’m also choosing to work in a way that is conscious about how the process of making a film, as early as screenwriting, can be socially responsible. I think challenging the film industry’s norm by building conscious models of working is a form of activism.
Mosquita y Mari is moved by a subtle, innocent LGBT narrative set in a rather conservative – or better, traditional – social context that does not share much with the simplistic, liberal way in which California is often depicted worldwide (you know, gay prides, West Hollywood, The L Word and all). What type of feedback did you get from Latino communities in relation to your portrayal? And what was the reaction of members of more privileged communities when they heard your story?
I would say that the Latino communities I have been able to engage with have been very welcoming of this story. The tone of the film, the innocence of the girls’ love, crosses over any audience, really. So when I have been in discussion with Latino audiences, I feel people genuinely caught off guard by how much they relate to the girls’ relationship. They also disclose how they felt themselves championing the girls’ love, something they might not have expected to feel .
And then there are other Latino audiences, primarily LGBTQ, who are grateful to see this kind of representation on screen. In general, I would say it has been very positive. Maybe some people have expressed having wanted to see more explicit romance but I tell them that’s not the story I was trying to tell. I was looking to explore those moments filled with hesitation and innocence, especially when there isn’t a space or the language to address these feelings.
Your film was made possible by incredible levels of backing on Kickstarter. In your experience, what are the strengths and limitations of using crowdfunding platforms to empower marginalised voices?
Kickstarter was Mosquita y Mari’s saving grace. In my case, I truly wonder how we would have been able to make this film happen. My producer, Chad Burris, and I worked hard to try and get financiers on the project, but it was always received with hesitation. No one believed it would make any money. It’s tough to face the reality of this industry.
But Kickstarter was reinvigorating. My financiers, all 800+, were the best financiers anyone could ask for because it wasn’t about profit, it was about the product and its social impact. It was about people believing in the story and believing in me. It was incredibly inspiring for me and for other filmmakers of color wanting to get their projects made but wondering how it was going to happen.
I launched my campaign in 2011, when Kickstarter was gaining momentum as a model. Now, if I were to launch a campaign I think I would be nervous about the saturation of the crowdfunding market. Most of my donors come from working-class means, so to expect someone to donate $40 to 3 or more campaigns a month or every two months is a lot to ask of someone. I think that’s become part of its limitation.
From your point of view, what’s one of the greatest struggles currently faced by Latino communities in the US?
Immigration. It has been and will continue to be a complex political issue as long as borders and capitalism exist. I continue to write about it because of the deep impact it’s had personally and globally.
What projects are you working on right now?
I’m currently writing what I hope to be my next feature film. It’s called Los Valientes (The Brave Ones) and it’s about a gay, undocumented Latino who finds love and hope within a setting and community he believes has nothing to offer to a man like him. Our community partners on the film are Culture Strike and DAPA (Dream Activist Pennsylvania), who have been helping develop the script and who are collaborating on ways in which the making of this film can connect to queer, undocumented populations in the Bay Area and Pennsylvania. If people are interested in following this film they can find us on creativedistrict.com.
What’s an inspiring quote that tends to guide you through life?
“There is no room for fear.”
My grandmother would often say these words to me during times of self-doubt. I’m grateful to her for her wisdom.
What real or fictional character inspired you the most?
Not sure how to answer this question when different aspects of my life’s journey have been inspired by different people. But what I can say is that they all have been real people, from my ancestors and their legacies to the 800+ donors on Mosquita y Mari’s Kickstarter campaign and their vote of confidence.
Are you optimistic about the future? Do you think Hollywood will always retain an intense cultural monopoly over storytelling or will the digital age revolutionise this?
I try not to focus on Hollywood and what it’s not doing, I’m much more interested in the ways filmmakers are building new spaces for our work to reach diverse audiences. In other words, the digital age has already opened the door to change. Some of that change is still evolving but I can only imagine it getting better.
Where could our readers find and watch Mosquita y Mari at present?Our DVD is available on Netflix, Itunes and Amazon. The distributor Wolfe Releasing also sells the dvd. And we’re currently streaming on HBO GO. I also invite people to connect with us on Facebook and Twitter. It’s where we keep people informed aboutMosquita y Mari and also about other projects in development.
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