What a great film! I recently rewatched Paraíso Travel for probably the eighth time in five years, and I always pick up on new details each time I watch this carefully crafted film: facial expressions from certain actors that tell a story within a scene and the larger story, pieces of dialogue whose importance/relevance I had not picked up on initially, symbolic images, cinematographic choices, and more. This is a fantastic film and probably the strongest inspiration for me in crafting my own full movie script, What's Up, Gringo?! (¿Quiubo Gringo!).
I forgot who it was exactly that first told me about Paraíso Travel. I think it might have been a friend from college who was also the daughter of a Colombian professor of Spanish there. I believe she had appreciated my interest in their culture and desire to learn the language and had recommended me this film. I enjoyed rewatching it over time as my comprehension of the language improved allowing me to connect with the film more.
I recall at the time watching a lot of movies from the 90s and having recently enjoyed Brian De Palma's "Calito's Way" with Al Pacino. I loved that movie's classic supporting character, "Benny Blanco from the Bronx" ("Remember me?!?!) played by John Leguizamo. (I'm also a "Ben" and born in the BX, haha). Years later when my appreciation for Latin culture grew, I would distinguish Leguizamo as being from a Colombian background, and that makes sense given that Leguizamo acts and was given co-producer credit in Paraíso Travel, a Colombo-American film that strongly features both countries.
Thus, I decided to follow my friend's recommendation to check out Paraíso Travel once I learned of Leguizamo's involvement. His character is supporting in nature again, but again he's a strong influence; this time, he plays "Roger," a hilarious, stuttering bohemian squatter with unusual passions and kinks that he uses towards money-making ends.
Roger is part of the larger, tragic fish-out-of-water comedy that characterizes parts of Paraíso Travel, in my opinion. The movie touches multiple genres, but in the scenes involving Roger, it's comedic. These scenes poke fun at the dynamism of immigrant life and the characters, the people, it brings together. Marlon Cruz is from a business-owning middle class background in Medellin prior to immigrating through illegal means to make his way to New York, or rather to follow Reina, his girlfriend, who leads the two there, perceivably to make a better life for themselves. Cruz would likely never associate with somebody of the likes of Roger in Colombia. Yet in Queens, New York, necessity forces Cruz to move in with Roger and subjugate himself to his odd house rules. This creates tension and comedic moments.
At work as well, Cruz is forced to embrace situations that he and his family likely never would of imagined for himself in Colombia, as he takes a job providing custodial services and cleaning toilets. Prior to this, his person seems relatively soft and delicate, and in fact, it's shown that his father refuses to allow him to work for their family taxi business, insisting that he study in university.
Such is the reality for many an immigrant from a developing economy who arrives to a more-developed one: "status," background, credentials, and all the rest are often useless in the new environment, as the individual opts for more accessible work than what he or she had or would have done in the home country. I'm reminded of the "Polish plumber" cliché that emerged in Western Europe during the mid to late aughts when several former Soviet satellite states acceded to the EU and many formally educated Eastern Europeans migrated West to the more developed economies then of Britain, France, etc. I wrote a paper about this while studying abroad in Salamanca, Spain, in 2017 and enjoyed sharing this funny sketch from Omid Djalili in its presentation. I'm wasted in this country! Haha. It was a nice way to reconnect with Poland, the country my Dad's side is originally from, a culture I would like to reconnect with more in the future by visiting and perhaps endeavoring to learn that Slavic language at some point.
Still, Paraíso Travel is much more than an insight into the immigrant's experience, into the Latino immigrant experience to New York and to Queens, probably the greatest hub of immigrant life in the United States. The story is a brilliant exploration of themes relating to motivation, searching, and purpose in life. Each character makes me wonder, what is he or she searching for?
Marlon Cruz is the most obvious example of this. The plot is driven by his search for Reina, whose person he unbelievably and agonizingly loses in the film's opening scenes. Upon arriving to Brooklyn, the couple find themselves cashless and staying at a run-down tenement flat, trying to figure their next move as Reina struggles to reach the contact she said she had in the city. An exasperated Marlon leaves to chain smoke several cigarettes outside before some NYPD ask him to stop littering the butts. The language barrier and the innate fear of uniformed authorities held by the undocumented Marlon leads him to flee. This ensues in a wild chase with Marlon running scared for miles to lose them, only to lose his sense of direction in the process; he finds himself lost in a neighborhood full of only Chinese people and signs in Mandarin.
Marlon and Reina's arrival to the United States comes after a horrific journey that is subsequently revealed in flashbacks; a journey with a caravan of other Colombians who cross borders illegally and witness extortion, harassment, murder, and abuse at the hands of the coyotes and criminals they encounter who take advantage of this group's vulnerability. (Interesting fact: One of the caravan members is the same actor, Federico Rivera, who interpreted the tío in my short film).
Paraíso Travel was released in 2008 and perceivably takes place in a time without cell phones, so perhaps a couple years before, and thus, Marlon effectively loses Reina. The fact that he cannot recall the address or any details of where they were staying reveals the nature of their relationship and his dependency on her: she leads and organizes whilst he follows. Such a dynamic is dangerous if the dependent partner (Marlon) separates from the leader (Reina), precisely what happens in this story.
Marlon, now lost and wandering through Queens, spends the rest of the film trying to find her, reluctantly taking work and settling into a life in order to afford surplus time and resources for his search.
And the fact that we are not shown any efforts on the part of the capable and cunning Reina to find him makes us wonder what is she really looking for? It is a harrowing thought to the viewer that relationships exist wherein one partner may be living, acting, breathing, and loving, while not really seeking the same thing, the same ends, as the other one; and under the right stressful circumstances, this difference might cause an irreversible schism in the relationship that can lead to a break.
Angelica Blandón's performance as Reina is brilliant (as is Aldemar Correa's as Marlon--an applause should be given to casting director Jaime Correa for these selections). Reina is devilishly cute and uses her sex appeal to her advantage, seducing Marlon in the first place to accompany and protect her on the dangerous trip to New York. Her ruthless cunning and tunnel vision reminded me of Daniel Plainview (Daniel Day-Lewis) in There Will Be Blood. I won't give away the plot of Paraíso Travel, but look out for the scene in Texas featuring Reina for an amazing insight into the true nature of this character. Blandón shocked me, as I had gotten used to seeing her as the "good girl" that she was in the context of her friend group (at least at the beginning of the show) in the popular Colombian novela Muñecas de la mafia, one of the novelas whose early episodes I used to watch when I was beginning to learn more Spanish.
There are long stretches in which Reina doesn't even grace the screen, but she's omnipresent throughout the film as our protagonist searches for her. I cannot help but keep hearing her name in the catchy hook of "Paraíso" from Colombian singer Fonseca (this song that was created in conjunction with this movie and its music video has the same director, Simon Brand):
REINA... que adueñaste de mi vida entera... De dos colores con tus ojos nena...
Roger (John Leguizamo's character) is one of the many latinos that help Marlon to survive in his new environment, but prior to Roger, there is "Pastor" and his wife Doña Patricia, owners and operators of a Colombian restaurant that employ Marlon. Doña Patricia especially takes good care of Marlon, seeing to it that his needs are met and providing him with emergency food and shelter when she first encounters the troubled and lost boy. She goes beyond physical support and fosters him emotionally too as a mother figure despite Pastor's ambivalence towards helping Marlon. Why does she do this? What is she searching for?
I wonder if her character is searching for meaning as a mother figure that she has yet to fulfill in her life. Did the demands of starting and running a business with her husband prevent the immigrant couple of ever having children of their own? Did the immigrant struggle and responsibilities take her away from loving and raising her own children as she might have wanted? These are questions that reading the original novel written by Jorge Franco might answer, something I have yet to do.
The last character I will mention whose motivations I became curious about was the other woman that catches Marlon's eye in Queens while he searches for Reina: Milagros (played by Ana de la Reguera). She is the fair-skinned Mexican girl that sells CDs in a stand next to the Colombian restaurant. She is an exceptional singer herself and performs in the restaurant for the patrons. This is where Marlon first sees her and is captivated by her performance, as are we. The song de la Reguera herself sings, "Te busco," is moving and part of the great soundtrack for this movie, linked below.
Milagros' character is a lovely, unassuming influence on the movie and Marlon's life. She seemingly serves to warm and inspire in an altruistic sense and to serve as another seasoned immigrant ready to help Marlon navigate life in the Queens labyrinth. We sense that she may have feelings for Marlon, but she knows he is emotionally unavailable, still lovesick for Reina. This fact keeps her from falling for him, but the intimacy they share makes this increasingly hard...
But. Why does she like him? I ask. Marlon is handsome and well-spoken, but his character is boyish and immature at the start of the story and throughout much of it. He's a "Mama's boy" with few callouses on his hands. In flashbacks to Colombia, we see his cowardice on display in the run-up to his leaving the country with Reina: he lies to his family and helps steal in order to finance the trip. He is a complete slave to Reina and his lust for her, and she uses this to manipulates him.
Milagros on the other hand seems more mature. She's been in the United States for longer and has gone through "the process" of becoming a part of American life as an immigrant. She works hard, bearing the Winter cold in New York to scratch out a living selling CDs. She has not lost her charm and positivity in all of this, but she carries an aura of reality and practicality, having seen life and the sacrifices it sometimes requires of us.
I would wager that her attraction to him is related to all of this; what she is looking for currently in a partner may be what she might have lost in herself to a degree: innocence. I imagine that she came from a strong familial support system in Mexico, a comfort that allowed her more time as young girl to dedicate to singing and diversion. This part of her has died somewhat in her evolution to survive in Queens. Or perhaps it has been more deeply buried and neglected. Look for the club scene in which she divulges to the wide-eyed Marlon some of the decisions she had to make when she first came to the country.
Marlon comes along and reminds her of her old country self some, her childhood self: innocent and soft. Thus, his immaturity is actual endearing to her, I would argue. When Marlon tells a joke about not having any money to Milagros and her housemates at a table scene, the housemates shoot him a look of horror; they clearly take finances very seriously and don't find the joke funny, however Milagros doesn't bat an eye at this comment Marlon makes in poor taste. He represents a romance and wonder that is harder to afford in her busy life in New York. Ironically, for all the opportunity provided in New York to her to accrue some relative wealth that can be sent to the home country, there is seemingly less opportunity in life maybe, less time and energy, for matters of the heart, for romance, than was the case in her home country; or maybe that's only the case because her experiences in Mexico were that of child growing up and she was naturally not pressed to worry about finances and responsibilities by virtue of having parents and a family to assume these worries. The film begs the question of whether all the sacrifices involved in the immigrant journey and the life in the United States is worth it for all. Is New York really the paraíso that the offbeat travel agent in Colombia who organizes the trip for the caravan promises it will be? Or do immigrants already landed in the city and other native New Yorkers themselves harbor a different concept of paradise, as this billboard ad for a rum brand in the movie suggests? Does our definition of paradise change depending on who we are, where we are, and what our current struggles in life are?
I'm not sure, but I am sure that this film is a great one! The film is currently free on Tubi with English subtitles!
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