07 · 18 · 24

CREPÚSCULO, de Julio Bracho, a 80 años

Rafael Aviña

Vilified and revered as one of the most stylish filmmakers in our cinema, Julio Bracho made his debut in 1941 with the nostalgic Porfirian tale ¡Ay qué tiempos señor don Simón!, set in 1900, featuring Arturo de Córdova, Mapy Cortés, and Joaquín Pardavé. During that decade, Bracho directed 14 films, establishing himself as one of the most productive filmmakers of the era. Furthermore, in the same period, he delved into intellectual and tragic narratives, as seen in his elegant reinterpretations of the noir crime genre with Another Dawn (1943) and Twilight (1944).

Advised by surgeon Dr. José Nava and psychiatrist Dr. José Quevedo, Julio Bracho explores the disturbed mind of a doctor who studies the darkness of the soul and the human mind in his book Twilight. Naturally, Arturo de Córdova was the perfect choice to portray him, given his ability to shape similar characters without ever falling into repetition or formula, as demonstrated in La diosa arrodillada, In the Palm of your Hand or Él, to mention a few similar examples. Although Bracho cannot avoid certain melodramatic excesses, the film manages to plunge into the psychological depths of a mind tormented by primal urges for sex and blood, the driving force behind the noir style and subgenre, which takes its concepts of morality to the limit, as well as the element of flashback as an obsessive return to the past that weakens the soul.

Dr. Alejandro Mangino (De Córdova) decides not to operate anymore, due to a psychosis that led him to fail in a medical intervention, causing the death of his friend Ricardo Molina (Manuel Arvide). A while back, when he goes to an appointment with him at the San Carlos Academy, he recognizes in a nude model, his former lover Lucía (Gloria Marín). He embarks on a long trip almost against his will and, upon his return, Lucía, the model, and his friend Ricardo have married and, therefore, he avoids being with the couple. Altogether, he meets her younger sister, Cristina (Lilia Michel), and writes about his own criminal obsession with his friend and now husband of his former lover.

In spite of everything, Lucía and Alejandro meet sexually again. Cristina, who suspects the situation, becomes Alejandro's nurse, whom she secretly loves. Ricardo, on the other hand, who senses the relationship between his friend and his wife, lies when he says he will go hunting to surprise them, however, due to a storm, a tree falls on him and Alejandro must operate immediately, although he knows that his erotic impulses towards Lucía will repress his abilities, which he confesses to his psychiatry teacher (Julio Villarreal) and Ricardo dies. The plot returns to the present and Cristina, who has been watching Alejandro in front of his friend's grave, confesses that she loves him. However, tortured by guilt, he throws himself into a waterfall without the sisters being able to stop him.

In Twilight, Alex Phillips's photography seems to hoist several of those unwritten rules of psychological suspense that would nevertheless become one of his most characteristic hallmarks. These are the use of light and shadow, essentially chiaroscuro, as an allegory for the thoughts of his protagonists and the outbursts of their inner demons, secrets, and most sinister obfuscations. Likewise, the shadowy illumination of the environment and the beams of light provoke flashes and shadows that foreshadow risks, accidents, and misfortunes. Here, the use of the scenography and art design by Jorge Fernández (the sculpture workshop, the protagonist's apartment, the operating room) and the natural scenery (the cemetery, the forest, the waterfall, and the bridge), show the oppression triggered by the characters' pathologies.

Even more interesting is the fact that Twilight, a film that celebrates its eighth anniversary, is a curious antecedent to Roberto Gavaldón's La diosa arrodillada. Both films explore the theme of obsession with a rich and intense sexual history. Additionally, the beauty and sensuality of María Félix is mirrored by the portentous eroticism of Gloria Marín. Furthermore, both films feature a statue of a naked woman and delve into themes of infidelity, guilt, and how the past distorts and clouds the present.