Bada0Bing
Don't Stop Believin'
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Editorial Reviews
From The New Yorker
This first film by twenty-four-year-old Robert Rodriguez was made for seven thousand dollars, and part of its enormous charm is that it really looks like a seven-thousand-dollar movie. It's a grubby little thriller, set in a Mexican border town, about a wandering mariachi musician (Carlos Gallardo) who is mistaken for a killer. The picture is a virtually unbroken series of chases and shoot-outs, and the non-stop action should be tiresome, but it isn't. Rodriguez establishes a delirious pace, and keeps the bullets flying and the corpses crumpling for a brisk, and appropriately terse, eighty-two minutes. The movie has the sort of dry, bracingly unwholesome humor that relentless mayhem can produce if the characters are mean and abject enough and the storytelling is speedy and laconic. This young filmmaker is no visual wizard; he's just an energetic and imaginative manipulator of tried-and-true genre conventions. But if you enter his seedy world with expectations as low as the picture's aspirations, you'll probably have a very good time. Also with Reinol Martinez, Consuelo Gómez, and Peter Marquardt. In Spanish. -Terrence Rafferty
Copyright © 2006 The New Yorker
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I recently watched this. I watched this with the commentary turned on, Robert Rodriguez was really funny. He was talking about all the tricks they used to keep the costs down. He said he used the same actors in several different roles, having them shave their mustaches and change clothes. He raised the $7,000 it took to film this by working as a medicine tester in Texas. This was a cool little movie.