Rosas Brancas para Minha Irmã Negra

This is a decent movie, for a melodrama, and the racial views from that era in Mexico -- at least the ones the movie is willing to discuss, unlike the film's almost total absence of indigenous Mexicans -- can be interesting. There are musical numbers which drag on but must have been popular and expected. (It's a shame that underground American soul legend Steve Flanagan doesn't get a number.) Maybe the most memorable sequence is a long, incredibly bizarre, basically silent Chaplin-esque routine by Libertad Lamarque in which she appears to have cloned herself, portraying multiple characters in "humorous" roles, all to momentarily distract and amuse her daughter. Even for what is essentially a feature-length soap opera, that segment is weird.