New Latin Revolution

In the four or five times the I’ve read Heart of Darkness, the thing that strikes me as most remarkable is not the brutal imagery
or the oppressive haze of confusion Conrad so masterfully weaves throughout the text. It’s the realization that he wrote the novel in English, which was not his native language. I’m always impressed by an individual who is able to speak or write in a second language with better precision and eloquence than a native speaker.

That’s certainly the case with Mexican actor Gael Garcia Bernal, whose latest film “Motorcycle Diaries” pits the actor as a young Che Guevara, the revolutionary Latin American political figure responsible for leading the Cuban Revolution. The film follows Bernal’s Guevara around the South American continent along with pal Alberto Granado (played by Rodrigo De la Serna). Directed by Walter Salles, the film was a well-deserved hit at Sundance based largely on its rich cinematography, well-developed dialogue and a strong performance by Bernal.

Bernal, who speaks four languages fluently, studied acting in the Central School of Speech and Drama in London, and after a childhood of acting, went on to star in “Amores Perros” as his first major feature film, followed by “Y tu mamá también,” directed by Alfonso Cuaron.

“Y Tu Mama Tambien” announced Bernal as a Latin sex icon (based largely on a now infamous ménage trios scene), but more
importantly launched the career of an intense, eloquent, powerful actor who has gone on to do recent work with the world’s premier directorial talent – Amoldovar (in upcoming Cannes favorite “Bad Education”), Innaritu, and recently Michel Gondry.

When we spoke with Bernal on a Chicago press tour, he was soft-spoken and apologetic about his command of the language, but offered up far more calm, composure and wisdom than a man his age should probably possess. Bernal is clearly a force to be reckoned with.

You’ve already received some great reviews for your work on this film. What did you do to prepare for this role?
It took six months of intense preparation, study and reading. I read just about every biography ever wrote about Che. Apart from that, I spoke with the people who knew him like Alberto Granada, we traveled to Cuba and spoke with his family, took cultural seminars, studied the
Incas. It was quite a process.

“Motorcycle Diaries” focuses on a sort of spiritual change in Che Guevara as he travels across South America. What do you think that change was and why?
You know, in Ernesto’s diaries, he specifies the exact moment when he becomes a new person. He says it came upon him like a howl from deep within. It’s a very violent image and very sudden.

Changes occur that way. Suddenly the bricks fall into place in some sort of chaotic serenity.

As an actor you took much of the same journey that Guevara and Granado took. Was there a point where you underwent a change as well?
The key point for me, when everything changed about the film, was when Alberto Granada was watching one of the scenes we were doing. There was a voiceover in the film and he told me not to try to copy the voice, to use my own. He reminded me that all that Guevara was at the time was a 23 year old traveling across Latin America. At the time, I was the same, and I think that caused a great improvement.

Acting is a path to wisdom; a path to get to know things. But acting offers it to you in a completely different, beautiful way. And sometimes in an abstract sense as well, by creating something; some kind of character that doesn’t necessarily exist, but you make it so convincing that it might as well exist. You get to learn a lot about the human condition; about yourself. At the same time, it’s really nice to be aware of that. That process of investigation with a character is so enjoyable; you can learn so much.

How were you affected by Guevara’s political thoughts?
Indirectly and directly I’m affected by Che Guevara’s politics. I grew up surrounded by many exiles from South America living in Mexico that
were quite leftist. When you study the Cuban Revolution it’s a story that’s still unfinished. The knowledge of Che Guevara has been incredibly perverted in a way, through ignorance, basically. Now it’s not even in public schools. The Cuban Revolution is barely even touched, even though it’s such a recent episode in history.

But at the same time, this story was immediate — the response — and the universality of such a story that touches people. Because it’s a journey of discovery. It’s a journey of finding one’s identity. It becomes something special because it was the beginning of the conscience of Ernesto Guevara. Che is one of the political figures that was perhaps closest to the reality of modern Latin America.

Last night at the screening, a woman in the audience asked you about the rewards of making money with films in Latin America and you said that “in Latin America, you don’t do things for the money because there is no money…” You’re also probably one of the most bankable stars today in Latin American cinema. What are some of the obstacles you face in making films in Latin America?
(Making cash register sounds) Cha-ching! It’s funny. I don’t know. The question she asked was, ‘Well, apart from the money, why do you make films?’ (laughs). It was like, ‘What?’ (laughs). I was completely surprised because she really didn’t know! It’s like, ‘Apart from the money? No. Just that. It’s the only reason why!’

Yeah, doing films in Latin America is like an act of faith. I mean, you really have to believe in what you’re doing because if not, you feel like it’s a waste of time because you might as well be doing something that at least pays you the rent. It is an act of faith; an act of love, perhaps; an act of trying to tell a story. Therefore, when you get involved in the production it’s incredibly stimulating and positive, and you feel a sense of belonging from whatever position you’re working in that film, from the driver to the cameraman. Everyone feels a sense of ownership and co-authorship in the piece. Everyone participates. There’s a strong work ethic, which is great. At the same time, even though it’s a passion, they are bankable sometimes and they make money. Still, it hasn’t generated an inertia that makes an industry.

You’re finally making an American film, “The King,” which comes out next year. Is there a difference working on a film that has a more substantial budget?

It’s a $1.5 million budget, which is nothing. “Amores Perros” cost $1.3 million or so. The thing is that here you get less for that money. The experience was the same—nobody was there because of the money. It was nice. It was the first time I had a place to change my clothes – the first time I had a trailer. It was really comfortable.

You’ve worked with some outstanding directors: Cuaron, Innaritu, Amoldovar. What was it like working with Walter Salles?
Well, Walter Salles is the most beautiful person in the world. He did a wonderful job of working with people from all over Latin America – it
was like the Tower of Babel. All of that work, though, was undone on Saturdays, when we would play football. It would be like Brazil versus
Mexico versus Argentina, the differences in the nations really popped up then.

Many of your roles have focused on a negative view of the church and religion. Do you choose those roles specifically because they’re anti-religion?

You know, Religion is such a part of our lives complexity. Like sexuality, emotions, relationships. I have had roles that challenge the church,
but I hardly choose roles based on whether or not they have certain religious implications.

I thought one of the key scenes in the film was the work Che did in the leper colony, which actual also had some anti-religious undertones. I’d actually never seen lepers before. What was that like?

It was an amazing experience working with them. 85% of the people suffering leprosy in the film were actual lepers. Some of them actually lived there when Che and Alberto Granada walked into the colony. The thing about them was that if you gave them a little bit of attention, they gave you a ton of gratitude. They are people that don’t get touched. It changed my life to work with them and to be with them.

One of the pivotal moments in the film was when Guevara swims across the raging river on his birthday. Talk a little bit about that scene…
It was three nights of swimming. Three nights of swimming in the Amazon, in the night, in the river. It was really intense. It’s the moment in the film — in the journey — when the character decides to be on one side of the river, to celebrate the other side, to be with those people. And that’s where he should live. And I think those moments in life come to everyone like that.

Whenever choices are put forward to you, you have to decide, and one thing leads to a certain life and the other leads to a certain life. And you have a certain preference to one or the other. In this case one was about living well and being a successful doctor, and the other was about living where he should live; where his duty is.

You know, “Motorcycle Diaries” has no incredible stories, no sudden plot twists, it doesn’t play that way. It’s about recognizing that instance of change and embracing it.