Release Date: 23 January
Director: Camila Aurora
Genre: Short Film, Comedy, Musical
Since its release on Netflix last November, Emilia Perez has stirred significant controversy in the entertainment industry. While it has garnered positive critical acclaim, the overwhelming negative public reception has sparked extensive discourse and conversation, particularly among audiences in Latin America.
I’ll be frank, Emilia Perez is a disappointing film—a professionally produced, big-studio-backed, star-studded disappointment. The film suffers from a range of issues, the most glaring being the atrocious butchering of the Spanish language. The dialogue feels disjointed, nonsensical, and utterly unaware of cultural context. It’s evident that a self-indulgent French filmmaker conceived the script idea, only to have an AI generate and translate the dialogue into Spanish.
The film is plagued by tired stereotypes, lackluster dialogue, uninspired songs, and editing that resembles a high school project. Unsurprisingly, the reception in Latin America, especially in Mexico—the country the film purports to represent—has been overwhelmingly negative.
In response to this cultural misrepresentation, Johanne Sacreblue emerged as an amateur short film written and directed by Mexican filmmaker Camila Aurora. This astute and playful rebuttal to the disrespect exhibited by Emilia Perez serves as a powerful testament to the idea that art is for everyone and can be a potent tool for protest.
The concept behind Johanne Sacreblue is straightforward: it adopts the same approach as Emilia Perez but comments on France in a similar manner. It effectively evokes in Western viewers the exact sentiment of watching a film that trivializes their culture. By reinforcing outdated stereotypes while completely butchering the language and showing a blatant disregard for the culture it attempts to portray.
This indie production boasts more clever dialogue, a well-rounded point of view. It drives it even further, by being able to infuse the project with humor and playfulness characteristic of latin america. Like the moment where they’re sitting at the table speaking very broken french and suddenly switch to spanish, the scene goes something like:
Johanne: (confused) «Why did we stop speaking French?”
Father: (in French) «What are you talking about?”
Johanne: «It’s nothing, I got confused.»
It’s got that something that let’s you know, this time. The director has a connection to the art they are making, there’s a motivation and reason for wanting to share it. It’s meaningful to them, and as a result, it’s meaningful to the audience.
While Johanne Sacreblue is amateur and low-budget, it has something important to say—and it says it clearly, firmly, and proudly. It’s a short watch, but a charming and enjoyable one. If you speak the language and understand the soul and culture of Latin Americans, you’ll find it resonates deeply.
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