Until now, my experience with early Mexican cinema hadn't been great, La llorona (1933) and El baúl macabro (1936) proving big disappointments. Dos Monjes (Two Monks) is a much more impressive effort, both visually and in terms of narrative.
The film opens in a monastery - a wonderful piece of gothic set design, with vast stone features and atmospheric chiaroscuro lighting: Brother Javier (Carlos Villatoro) is supposedly possessed by the devil, suffering from fits of rage; he is visited by the new friar, Juan Servando (Víctor Urruchúa), who Javier clobbers over the head with a crucifix.
Javier explains his act of violence to the padre: before he became a monk, he was a struggling musician who fell in love with a beautiful young woman called Ana (Magda Haller). But Javier's wealthy best friend Juan, who recently returned from his travels abroad, also took a fancy to Ana. He tells how, after recovering from a bout of illness, he agreed to spend an evening going through legal papers for his friend, but returned home early - to catch Juan pawing Ana. A fight broke out, Juan pulled a gun, and accidentally shot the woman dead. Juan promptly legged it, leaving Javier to join the monastery.
The padre then goes to Juan to get his version of events. Juan says that Javier's account is partially true, revealing that he was in love with Ana before Javier ever met her. According to Juan, Ana had promised to wait for him while he was on his travels, so seeing her with Javier when he returned was a shock. Ana told him that she still loved him, but didn't want to upset Javier for fear that the news might kill him. Both have dark thoughts about Javier dying so that they can be together, and decide that they must punish themselves, Ana by going through with her wedding to Javier and Juan by traveling abroad again. Before leaving, Juan tried to get one last kiss from Ana, which is when Javier walked in. A fight broke out, Juan pulled a gun, and Ana got in the way of the bullet.
Having heard from both men, the padre declares that he will only absolve them if they forgive each other, but it is too late for Javier: madness grips him and, after playing wildly on the monastery organ, he falls down dead.
The film's narrative structure - where the same events are told from different perspectives - had been done before (and would famously be repeated in Kurosawa's Rashomon), but it works extremely well in this instance, the ambiguity of the two accounts leaving the viewer mulling over the story well after the film has finished. The excellent performances also add to the effectiveness, as does the wonderful direction by Juan Bustillo Oro, who uses a variety of styles and techniques to make his film aesthetically interesting throughout, including a dash of German expressionism, canted angles, great use of light and shadow, and some surreality towards the end, as Javier loses what's left of his marbles.
7.5/10, rounded up to 8 for IMDb.
