The opening scene effectively introduces us to the dynamic of the two co-directors and their relation to the stories highlighted. Mojica is the driver, face obscured, telling Zweig, holding the camera, about the nuances of life in the hills. Mojica’s musings aren’t journalistic, they are personal and bounce from sexual exploits to memories of bad drunken decision-making. The car reaches a stop and with this, Mojica agrees to share his often hidden world of joy and desire with Zweig.
The rodeos are themselves inherently ultra-macho spaces. The culture within them is built around strength, domination, and the ability to conquer. Mojica’s stories and their conversation with other gay men involved in the rodeo scene don’t linger on the homophobia or aggression they face. Instead, Jaripeo is a moving look at how queerness has always been present in these cartoonishly manly events. There’s an emphasis on drinking and partying and how rodeos are a space of escapism for working-class Mexican men. The escapism transforms into queer discovery. The constant contrast of virile masculinity and the self-presentation of our gay cowboys being interviewed is the primary focus. Zweig and Mojíca investigate gendered roles in gay relationships and in the popularity of drag performers at the rodeos. The discussions are nuanced and empathetic. Each interviewee is given space to complicate their own preferences and beliefs related to how they express their queerness.
Zweig’s camera is patient and curious, finding respectful yet creative ways to introduce us to each member of this community. Mojíca’s insider knowledge gifts viewers with a lot of intimate information. Fortunately, the way Zweig and Mojíca capture these anecdotes and memories reflects so much warm love towards the wild nights of these jaripeos (a traditional Mexican rodeo-style event focusing on bull riding). The cinematography is elegant and boundary-pushing. As the men reminisce, the intertwining of Super 8 footage appropriately grants the stories a nostalgic sentiment.
There are also brief experimental detours where we slowly follow two star-crossed lovers meeting hidden in the neo-lit cornfields. These moments, along with aesthetic and raunchy reproductions of the rodeos themselves are visually jaw-dropping. The attention to colour contrast, lighting and composition takes the images of Jaripeo above and beyond. There are also scenes that follow rural rodeos in Mojíca’s hometown of Penjamillo. These scenes employ handheld camerawork, yet still the camera moves confidently and finds evocative imagery in every moment. There’s no judgement in the lens. The creators allow us to see rodeos in all their homoerotic sensuality. The social spirit is just as rowdy and reckless as the bull-riding itself. This film captures that reality in all of its contradictions.
The editing is just as assertive as the rest of the filmmaking. There’s an almost musical rhythm to how editors, Analía Goethals and Emmanuel Rivas, find a balance between surreal dream sequences, traditional interviews and upfront coverage of the spectacle. The cut is just 70 minutes, and it boasts a coherent emotional throughline with director Efraín Mojíca’s journey of acceptance with his lovers, friends and fellow cowboys. Despite its starry-eyed ambition, the self-contained nature still gives the audience satisfying closure.
Overall, Jaripeo is a staggering achievement directed with a poignant care and headfast excitement towards the possibilities of documentary. Mojíca and Zweig succeed in both making a touching depiction of smalltown subcultures and larger expedition into queer marginality.
Jaripeo premiered at Sundance. Also showing in the Panorama section of the 76th Berlinale.
