This movie's best feature is that it is a perfect "opening up" of a play, just enough to be cinematically compelling, but never leaving the stage behind. It was done so well that the artfulness of the storytelling almost made me forget about the evasiveness of the story being told. I kept looking for reasons to like this, until the cop out ending made me wonder if there had been a single moment of historic or sociological truth in the previous 100 minutes.
It would have been perfectly sensible to end the story with an honest and factual recitation of the subsequent crimes committed by the men who had been falsely accused and abused by the legal system. It was perfectly bizarre for Valdez to invent "let's pretend" destinies for the defendants, full of success and happiness. Am I supposed to be amused by this phony rewriting of reality? The very real evil of American soldiers, journalists and judges is laid bare, but the evil crimes of Mexican-American gang members are self-righteously minimized and sidestepped. In its trivializing of gang violence this play/film is a perfect illustration of the phoniness of Mexican-American pride. The Big Message is that double-talk and rationalizations of violence within "Chicano" communities is perfectly acceptable, so long as you can point your finger at systemic Establishment (read "White") racism. I guess that's the true nature of El Pachuco, then and now: swaggering BS.
With some self-reflective honesty this could have been a worthwhile phantasmagoria of fashion, music, ethnicity, crime and injustice. Instead Valdez squandered his talents on dishonest propaganda.
It would have been perfectly sensible to end the story with an honest and factual recitation of the subsequent crimes committed by the men who had been falsely accused and abused by the legal system. It was perfectly bizarre for Valdez to invent "let's pretend" destinies for the defendants, full of success and happiness. Am I supposed to be amused by this phony rewriting of reality? The very real evil of American soldiers, journalists and judges is laid bare, but the evil crimes of Mexican-American gang members are self-righteously minimized and sidestepped. In its trivializing of gang violence this play/film is a perfect illustration of the phoniness of Mexican-American pride. The Big Message is that double-talk and rationalizations of violence within "Chicano" communities is perfectly acceptable, so long as you can point your finger at systemic Establishment (read "White") racism. I guess that's the true nature of El Pachuco, then and now: swaggering BS.
With some self-reflective honesty this could have been a worthwhile phantasmagoria of fashion, music, ethnicity, crime and injustice. Instead Valdez squandered his talents on dishonest propaganda.