Sin Nombre: Review By B. Alan Orange

I haven’t paid enough attention to the plight of the immigration genre. With the release of Sin Nombre (which means: Without a name), I’ve learned that most of my Spanish-speaking peers hate these cryptic films. There have been quite a few in the last year or so; it’s a hot topic. Especially in Los Angeles. Crash won an Oscar, and Babel was nominated for some more. A Day Without a Mexican tried to expose the importance of day workers, but was as shoddy and cheap as the worst orange drunk dude standing outside the Home Depot looking for quick employment. Just last month, we saw the release of Crossing Over, which combined elements from all three films as filtered through the bizarre mind of the usually excellent director Wayne Kramer. Now comes Sin Nombre, which is a vastly different experience on every level. It starts out on the wrong side of the border, and grows more ghastly the closer it gets to the States. It’s not so much a political drama as it is a thrilling nightmare chase through a foreign land. It’s about the impossible lifestyle of the initiated gang member, and an essay on the visible dangers that plague impoverished youth. It turns illegal immigration into a necessary evil. The United States constantly stands in the back of everyone’s mind as some sort of holy land; a magical Mecca that will make all personal terrors disappear.

The film comes from the heart, but not from personal experience. Watching the events as they transpire, you sense an intimate attention to detail. It’s very real and important. Sin Nombre always feels of the moment; an urgent call to the everyday horrors faced, not necessarily by natives of Mexico and Honduras, but by those less fortunate souls whose only hope for survival is to buck the skin of their motherland and find salvation elsewhere. Writer/director Cary Fukunaga isn’t slamming all life south of the border. The narrative is quick to explain the plight of its two main sets of characters. There are significant reasons for these people to be traveling away from their problems. Watching the movie, you suspect that it came from a Spanish filmmaker with carnal knowledge of the subject at hand. Fukunaga is a half Japanese/half Swedish Californian born in the States. Making this his directorial debut, he set out to fully immerse himself in the cultures of Honduras. He is our eye into this world; an observer with a camera. He found these people and focused in on them. As a writer, he never steps over that thin line that separates his own agenda and what is actually happening on the streets of this insolvent nation. He doesn’t attempt to preach. Instead, he lingers in the background, nearly as shocked and incapable of stopping the true humanity of the piece as we are.

The story is split into two halves. One portion follows the plight of a young Honduras teenager whose somewhat apprehensive dreams of living in the United States appear to becoming true. Her long absent father has returned for her and his brother. Their plan is to hop a train into Mexico, and then cross over into Florida once they reach their first destination. Of course, they are forced to do this with very little money, traveling on top of a rickety railcar with at least a hundred other poor, dirty bastards ready to scrub dishes and sell fruit by the side of the road for an eternity. Sayra’s tale is one we’ve heard before, only never this vivid. For the most part, her predicament is pushed to the side. Sin Nombre really wants to be about Casper, a reluctant gang member that has found love outside his own tribe. He is our catalyst, a bursting ball of energy that we’re willing to root and pray for. He is living through a nightmare. Once he realizes that, and attempts to break free from the sticky black web of gang warfare, we are on his side. We want to see him succeed in escaping his destiny. Take heed, though, people. This is about fate. Maybe things aren’t going to end up so good for this guy after all.

When we first meet Casper, he is in the process of wooing a young boy named Smiley into the deadly Mara Salvatrucha, and we half suspect this young suitor to become a savior of sorts. We watch as the kid gets jumped in and initiated. He can’t be more than ten years old; his small body takes one hell of a beating. Partnered with Casper, they are assigned certain positions throughout the nearby city. They are supposed to be on the lookout for rival gang members, but Casper has been neglecting his avowed duties, instead hanging out with a beautiful young woman not affiliated with his family of thugs. This information soon comes to the attention of Lil’ Mago. He is their king-of-sorts. A menacing skeleton of a man with more facial tattoo damage than Iron Mike Tyson. Casper and Smiley take a beating for their lie and shifty work ethics. Horrible things happen to Casper’s fence-side fiancé. And soon, this generational trio of troubled men is hopping a train to carry out a mission of providence. Lil’ Mago isn’t pure evil poured from an unfiltered tap. Fukunaga manages to show a human side to this seeming monster. Events are set up in his favor. Through his tough skin, we know why certain things have to happen, even if they are not right. The point of view is incredibly astute.

As luck would have it, Casper, Smiley, and Lil’ Mago board the same train as Sayra and her family. Only, they haven’t arrived with shared hopes and dreams of a better life. They plan on making everyone else’s existence a living hell. Despite the fact that these weary world travels have little to no money, Mago proceeds to rob their weak masses. The other two plod along unwillingly, harassing and thieving through the lush green, constantly moving landscape. It’s a miserable, necessary journey. For all, it is their daily grind. Soon, Lil’ Mago is grabbing at Sayra. Things get heated and ugly. Distraught over the loss of his girl, Casper does some rather drastic things over the course of 2.5 seconds, and his life is thus sent spiraling down a dark and twisted path. For a while, the film plays with convention. It propels hope in the face of constant tragedy. Casper and Sayra come together as a unified team. Though they don’t know each other, that doesn’t stop them from forging ahead as one.

It’s here that Sin Nombre turns into a gut-wrenching chase. Smiley, having hopped off the train, runs back to the Mara Salvatrucha with news of Casper’s disloyalty. It’s frustrating to watch this ten-year-old kid worm his way through the streets, using his connections to catch up with the slow moving train at every turn. Life on a railcar is a sluggish plod through time itself. It soon becomes a cliched game of tortuous vs. hare. Smiley isn’t a bad guy. He’s young, and doesn’t want to die. It’s necessary that he catch his older mentor. And you might be amazed at his determination. The third act is as thrilling as any action film seen in the last couple of months. And it might just break your heart. Sin Nombre isn’t like past immigration films at all. Its idealism is wrapped in the visual pleasures of a cinematic gut-punch. One that lands just above the kidneys.

Sin Nombre? Whoop-doo!

(All of B. Alan Orange’s reviews are based on the Boo! or Whoop-doo! evaluation system.)