Alejandra Márquez Abella's The Good Girls, which is receiving an exclusive global online premiere on MUBI, is showing from July 23 – August 21, 2020 in most countries in MUBI's Viewfinder series.
I’m very excited to be introducing my film Las niñas bien (The Good Girls) to the MUBI audience. It’s such a great honor! Las niñas bien was a compilation of Guadalupe Loaeza’s humoristic Sunday column in Mexico back in the early 80s. She wrote about what she was observing among her friends, the elite circle, during Mexico’s economic crisis. The column was published in one leftist journal at the time, it was a hit and a scandal for the real Niñas Bien who felt betrayed. Among other infamies, her writing revealed the great disconnection that the wealthy had with the political reality of their country. That book has been around for almost 40 years. Though perceived as pulpy, it has been read by many with morbid curiosity. Above all, it established the concept of "Niña Bien," which is actually very hard to translate from Spanish. It encapsulates the idea that a rich, white, well-dressed woman is good; like a piece of fruit on a street market. The term has even become, sadly, an aspiration for many women; a synonym for beauty and value, a wrongful note on what should be admirable in a woman. All of this background fell on top of me as I was offered to work on his film. I said “no” immediately, I didn’t want to make another Mexican comedy centered in social inequality, the kind that many times spared the rich and laughed at the poor, or fabricated a learning lesson for the first one, taught by the latter. I misjudged the producers wanting a blunt commercial success and I couldn’t commit to that; I was afraid I couldn’t deliver. They persisted. They agreed to give me creative freedom and were OK with changing the tone of the film from that of Guadalupe’s writing, which I found had become a bit innocuous with time. I wanted to look these women in the eye, not mock them, not despise them, but understand what does wealth mean to them, what was/is at stake for them when they are on the verge of losing their status, and specifically, how do women from the elite manage their lack of power.
I had a tough road writing the script. I didn’t want to associate myself with the heroine, Sofía de Garay. Later on, Ilse Salas, who would play her, had the same issue. It is difficult to empathize with those who you point out to be the disease. It is difficult to find the true motive, to embody or shoot with dignity a character that you find to be despicable. It is easier to work on what you admire, on those characters and situations you find valuable. This film implied looking at Mexico in a way that not many people, or us, felt comfortable. I always felt on the tightrope. That prejudice has always accompanied the film. The audience in Mexico expected either a comedy, and they found a distorted reflection of themselves, or they expected an empty portrait, an apology, but hopefully found a voyeuristic slice of life of our oppressive oligarchy.
I can now say I love having accepted this job, this journey. It has been the most nourishing, rich, educational one. I have learned a lot about perspective. Every collaborative experience in Las niñas bien was centered on thinking about a playful sway between hipper-subjectivity and objectivity. The job with Dariela Ludlow, the DOP, was about creating images that represented the inner plot; we frequently spoke about seeing Sofía through the eyes of the black moth. With Miguel Schvertfinger, the concern was cutting the film accordingly to Sofía’s state of mind, to represent thoughtfully her troubled, anxious decay. Miguel came from editing Lucrecia Martel’s Zama so he had the most interesting ideas. Annaí Ramos and Claudio Ramírez Castelli, who respectively were in charge of wardrobe and production design, were amazing doing a very specific research, we had to narrow it down to a neighborhood in Mexico City in the year 1982. This is a film in which every piece of clothing, every little object on screen speaks very eloquently about what was happening inside of the characters. I found their work to be impeccable. Sound was a big thing, music as well, we sort of worked on that as one thing. Sound designer Alex de Icaza’s talent and respect for the process was really important for me and the film as I love to play with sound. The mixing room is where I feel less vulnerable and I actually start enjoying myself. Tomás Barreiros’ understanding and open mind about my lack of musical language, his kind willingness to limit his extraordinary musical talent to conceive a simple score yet full of elements that played, creating meaning, along with the rest of cinematic elements. Rafa Ley, Rodrigo González, and Gabriela Maire, producers, always supportive and big believers of the film. I don’t have enough thank yous for them.
Las niñas bien taught me it is important to take challenges. It’s way more satisfying.