Que Rico!
I’ve been watching Spanish novellas, or soap operas, for a few months now. Don’t ask me why. I don’t know.
Most of them seem to originate from Mexico (that’s Meh-hee-ko for you gringos) and from what I can make out, Mexico is a place sorely in need of their government’s authorisation for the addition of Prozac, or at least Zoloft, to the nation’s water supply. Really. Based on my observations, each and every citizen South of the Border is headed full-on into stroke and cardiac-infarction territory by the age of 45 if they don’t start to calm the f*ck down, and soon, if these soap operas are any indication of the state of affairs in Mexican society.
Histrionics are the norm, apparently, regardless of the intensity of the wrong that’s centre-stage. For instance, in Que Bonito Amor, Maria has been wronged by her mariachi boyfriend as she has discovered that he lied about his true identity. In other words, it turns out he’s not who he’s been telling her he is. Porque? Porque mi? Waahhhhhhh . . . A tsunami of emotion pours out of this character for not one, but at least five epsiodes. The tears cascade down her face in an endless stream of loss and betrayal. Fortunately, her skin has been thoroughly waterproofed against such environmental damage by a thick, moisture-resistant coating of expertly-applied maquillage. The theme music plaintively sails in with “Que Bonito Amor . . .” as the tears intensify.
Does it matter why the mariachi dude switched up his identity? Nope. He lied and that’s enough. Enoguhuh for at LEAST five episodes of lachrymose lament. And there is a kid similarly affected, but what her problem is, I truly have no idea. However, I could imagine the following dialogue:
Director: “So, pequeno muneca, the script calls for you to remain pretty much in a total existential panic for the next twelve episodes and also calls for you to basically be hysterically crying in each scene, from commercial to commercial. Think we can get you on board with that”?
Mexican Child Actress: “Um, thanks, but I think I want to get with my agent on this, Senor Directore. I’ll be in my trailer and I’ll get back to you muy rapido. Okay?”
Oh, you wanted to know, after all, what Sr. Giant Hat Belting Out Mariachi Music’s real reason is for hanging fire on the down low? As it turns out, he’s a super-wealthy business man who’s hiding out because his life is in danger, because, Mexico.
But I somehow doubt that this will be enough to redeem him and since he will have to prove his macho sincerity in a self-sacrificial way, regardless of how right he is in wanting to save his life and secondarily, his fortune, someone’s gonna have to die. Trust me: that how these things work. Or go to jail for a long, long time, which, as you can imagine, is pretty much the same thing, because, again, Mexico.
In the end, the heroine (who seems pretty close to this point to resorting to heroin, come to think of it) will forgive the gentleman businessman who also happens to be a pretty good mariachi musician, they will be forever united, possibly enjoying seafood at some west-coast eatery as the suns sets into the ocean beyond their once-star-crossed paths.
Too bad real life doesn’t quite work that way. Or, does it? Stay tuned!