Vicarious Identities: Fantasies of Resistance and Language in

Juan Ibáñez’s Los caifanes (1966)

Solorzano-Thompson, Nohemy.

Film & History: An Interdisciplinary Journal of Film and Television

Studies, Volume 34.2 (2004), pp. 38-45 (Article)

Published by Center for the Study of Film and History

DOI: 10.1353/flm.2004.0045

For additional information about this article

http://muse.jhu.edu/journals/flm/summary/v034/34.2solorzano-thompson.html

Access Provided by University of Florida Libraries at 04/24/11 5:13AM GMT

Solórzano-Thompson | Vicarious Identities: Fantasies of Resistance and Language in Juan Ibáñez’s Los caifanes (1966)
Vicarious Identities:
Fantasies of Resistance and Language in
Juan Ibáñez’s Los caifanes (1966)
Nohemy Solórzano-Thompson
Whitman College
Los caifanes (1966), director Juan Ibáñez’s first full-length
motion picture, became instantly popular with the Mexican middle-
class. Los caifanes presents a middle-class fantasy of empower-
ment and resistance against the upper-class, experienced vicariously
through the actions and bodies of lower-class men and accomplished
without challenging middle-class privilege. Set in Mexico City, the
film portrays a nocturnal encounter between a group of lower-class
men and an upper-class couple that produces an intellectual battle
through language and social performance. The lower-class men
represent positive forms of masculinity; the upper-class man, on
the other hand, is portrayed as negative and effete. The upper-class
woman, the film’s true protagonist, is unsatisfied by her male coun-
terpart and seeks new experiences. The encounter allows the up-
per-class woman to “vivir intensamente” [“live life to the fullest”]
and to abandon her fiancé in favor of independence.
Los caifanes continues to be an important film almost forty
years after its release. Thanks to regular broadcasting of the film on
Mexican and U.S. Spanish language television and the frequent
references to it in music, newspapers, and magazines, the film has
become a favorite of most Mexicans, regardless of class background.
Today, Los caifanes is considered one of the best Mexican films of
all times, and its plot and dialogue have become common referents.
The word caifanes is a caló [Mexico City lower-class slang] re-
working of the Mexican phrase “caer bien” meaning to get along
with or to be perceived as pleasant. Because caló usually incorpo-
rates English, the word caifanes is created through the fusion of
“caer” and “fine,” the English equivalent of “bien.” The “caifanes”
are those who are pleasant or easygoing; in other words, the “cool
guys.” Thanks to the film, to be “like the caifanes” has become
synonymous with ultra-coolness and masculinity.
At the start of the film, Jaime de Landa (Enrique Álvarez
Félix) and his fiancée Paloma (Julissa) leave a party in search of
some other form of entertainment that challenges their bourgeois
perspective. Their chance encounter with a band of auto mechan-
ics, headed by Capitán Gato and his band of caifanes, gives them
the opportunity to experience Mexico City nightlife from the per-
38 | Film & History
spective of the lower-classes. The caifanes’ tour of the city forces
Paloma and Jaime to temporarily interact with several members
of the lower-classes in their “native” spaces. They visit a barrio
nightclub, a mortuary, a fonda [lower-class eatery], and several
important Mexico City street locations. At each location, the
caifanes manage to cause chaos; their actions range from the steal-
ing of a hearse, which is subsequently abandoned in downtown
Mexico, to causing a riot at a nightclub. As the plot develops,
Paloma feels drawn to vicariously experience the lives of the
caifanes and participate in the mayhem; she is also sexually at-
tracted to one of the men. Paloma feels trapped in her bourgeois
lifestyle; she does not want to abandon it or its privileges but is
unfulfilled by her relationship with Jaime. The film’s climax is a
fistfight instigated by Jaime’s jealousy; he is easily put down by
the caifanes. Paloma is impressed by their behavior and finally
decides to act drastically. After her night with los caifanes, Paloma
literarily leaves Jaime on the side of the road.
Through its marketing and presentation, Los caifanes claims
to contain genuine portrayals of the “real” lower-class male expe-
rience in Mexico City. Yet the film makes a very important omis-
sion—the middle-class is entirely absent. The characters only
represent the upper- and lower-classes, leaving the middle-class
entirely out of the action of the film. It is no accident that the
middle-class would favor a film that does not feature them.
Through the use of the dichotomy of order and disorder to por-
tray imaginary acts of confrontation that situate resistance in the
lower-class man, the film structures disorder as a weapon of the
weak; a form of resistance targeted at the upper-classes and al-
lowing the vicarious participation of the middle-class audience.
Not only are the acts of resistance in this film indirectly threaten-
ing to the middle-class audience, but the audience ultimately ben-
efits from this portrayal.
Los caifanes provides many fictions created for its ideal
audience. Through its references to high culture, the film ulti-
mately portrays the desire of the middle-class intellectual to vi-
cariously connect with an imagined lower-class experience. The

upper- and lower-classes are portrayed in stereotypical fashion in
order to create an existential gulf between them—a gulf that can
only be evaluated and bridged by the middle-class audience. This
is achieved through the use of language and the depictions of the
characters. The audience is led to believe that the upper-classes,
whose lives are ultimately boring, are constantly preoccupied with
their image and reputation. The female lead is the stereotypical
upper-class bored woman: her life is depicted as empty, and she
possesses a desire for entertainment and excitement. She wishes
to “vivir intensamente” and assumes that by experiencing the
“real” Mexico City, she can achieve that goal.
The film was co-written by director Juan Ibáñez and writer
Carlos Fuentes, one of the most important Latin American public
intellectuals. The collaboration of these two intellectuals signifi-
cantly shaped the social critique of the film and its middle-class
focus. The five episodes that compose Los caifanes, as well as the
narrative arc that describes them, are not random. Each successive
act builds up the tension and takes the characters on a set “tour” of
the city. The timing of all the actions and the subsequent interpreta-
tive comments by Capitán Gato in response to challenges by Jaime
is consistent in each act of the film. The plot follows the basic “boy
meets girl” formula of Golden Age melodrama, although it does
not feature a “happy” ending that unites the boy and the girl.
Los caifanes in context
Los caifanes’ continued relevance in Mexican society and
among Mexican peoples in the U.S. is ultimately tied to its middle-
class focus. The film was released at a critical point in Mexican
history—the rise of an intellectual middle-class that benefited from
mid-twentieth century institutional reform. Los caifanes’ imag-
ined audience was the Mexican “baby-boomers,” an age group
that enjoyed prosperity unknown to previous generations and had
unprecedented access to higher education institutions that, at the
time, emphasized social critique. The film’s unthreatening stance
in relation to middle-class privilege, and its uncomplicated pro-
proletariat (and hence anti-oligarchy) critique of Mexican class
relations, made it a hit with both the intelligentsia and the up-
wardly emergent middle-class.
The film’s success and uniqueness needs to be understood
in relation to the history of Mexican cinema. In the early 1960s,
after two and a half decades of critical and commercial success
throughout the Spanish-speaking world, Mexican cinema suf-
fered a financial and creative crisis. The Golden Age of Mexi-
can cinema (1936-1961) ended as labor disputes, budget
constraints, and artistic differences withdrew state and private
funding from the national film industry. The struggling industry
significantly reduced the number of releases and the quality of
films produced; audiences responded by abandoning national
cinema and embracing foreign films—especially those coming
from the U.S. Many critics and artists bemoaned the end of an
era but felt powerless to change matters.
Nohemy Solórzano-Thompson | Special In-Depth Section
This crisis propelled one of the most interesting periods in
Latin American film—the rise of left-wing social critique experi-
mental films. Mexican Golden Age films glorified the experiences
of the lower-classes in rural and urban dramas that focused on the
“dignity” and “morality” of these populations. They were por-
trayed as having the ability to suffer through their poverty, never
actively questioning their situations. The most telling example is
that of the collaborations between director Ismael Rodríguez and
actor Pedro Infante. In their famous trilogy of urban misery—
Nosotros los pobres (1947), Ustedes los ricos (1948), and Pepe
El Toro (1952)—lower-class Pepe suffers innumerable humilia-
tions at the hands of the rich only to “win” through his good-
heartedness while his only son, his wife, and his friends die horrible
deaths amidst the most abject poverty.
Socially conscious cinema in Mexico emerged with the ar-
rival of director Luis Buñuel. A fugitive of Franco’s Spain, Buñuel
released 21 films in Mexico. Many of these films featured sharp
criticisms of contemporary Latin American social and political
problems. His most critical film, Los olvidados (1950), portrayed
the lower-classes in a new light: a band of children utilize vio-
lence as a form of survival while the state is unable to provide
alternatives. Buñuel’s heavy-handed criticism, however, failed to
influence the portrayal of political and social realities in Golden
Age cinema. While many Golden Age filmmakers felt that pov-
erty and other social problems were an important concern in
Mexico, few portrayed alternatives beyond the typical exaltation
of the poor as “dignified.”
What changed in the late 1960s? The crisis of the film
industry coincided with the rise of a new intellectual middle-
class influenced by European left-wing thought and the success
of the Cuban Revolution. Art, literature, and discourse of the
time attempted to grasp the reasons for the so-called “underde-
velopment” of Latin America and provide socialist alternatives
to class and regional disparities. In the 1960s, young Mexican
intellectuals launched La Onda, an artistic movement that sought
to capture the urban experience of the middle-class and provide
social critique. While other Latin American countries experi-
enced the rise of political movements aimed at political and so-
cial reform, including the start of actual revolutions, Mexican
politics and government were entirely controlled by the Partido
Institucional Revolucionario and experienced only moderate
social reform. The short-lived 1968 student movement was the
only significant challenge to state hegemony, but it failed to pro-
mote any actual social and political change in Mexican society.
Perhaps the only lasting effect of left-wing activism and thought
was the creation of new artistic forms in Mexico. La Onda mu-
sicians, writers, artists and thinkers are recognized as some of
the most innovative and confrontational creators in the twenti-
eth-century. Los caifanes, unlike other La Onda creations, is
unique because of its continued appeal in Mexico and ability to
“cross-over” to mainstream audiences.
Vol. 34.2 (2004) | 39
Solórzano-Thompson | Vicarious Identities: Fantasies of Resistance and Language in Juan Ibáñez’s Los caifanes (1966)
The rich vs. the poor
Los caifanes utilizes specific cinematic markers to differen-
tiate and characterize each character; in the film, clothing, actions,
and use of language become important makers of social standing
and gender performance. This is especially true both among and in
relation to the lower-class men. Although all the caifanes utilize
caló, each expresses differently. When they first appear on scene,
the caifanes are interchangeable to Paloma and Jaime de Landa,
but, as the plot develops, their personalities emerge.
The caifanes are Capitán Gato (Sergio Jiménez), el Estilos
(Oscar Chávez), el Azteca (Ernesto Gómez Cruz), and el Mazacote
(Eduardo López Rojas). Their colorful names suggest their char-
acteristics. Capitán Gato is the leader of the pack; el Estilos is the
intellectual, shy one; el Azteca is the one with most indigenous
features and is also the sneakiest; and el Mazacote is slightly obese.
All four caifanes have capitalized on the film’s popularity. To this
day, the media connects the actors’ present projects to their par-
ticipation in Ibáñez’s film, even though all the actors managed to
build impressive careers, and all but Jiménez have “crossed-over”
to U.S. films. Sergio Jiménez became a successful telenovela ac-
tor and is a familiar presence in Mexican television. Oscar Chávez
is one of Mexico’s most renowned folksingers, although he occa-
sionally stars in art house films. Ernesto Gómez Cruz has had an
impressive career and has participated in several critically ac-
claimed films. The late Eduardo López Rojas made over sixty
films after debuting in Los caifanes; his 1999 obituary in La
Jornada prominently cited his participation in the Ibáñez film.
The character of Capitán Gato draws his personality from his
ability to lead and act as a mediator between the caifanes and Jaime
de Landa during tense moments. He articulates the feelings of the
group and offers counterarguments to Jaime’s rude comments. He
dresses in stereotypical “greaser” gear—leather jacket and jeans—
Courtesy of Film Archive
“Capitán Gato (Sergio Jiménez) and two of his caifanes (Ernesto Gómez
Cruz and Eduardo López Rojas) restrain Estilos (Oscar Chávez) after his
confrontation with Jaime do Landa.”
40 | Film & History
and he has an attitude. He is not only in charge of his band of caifanes,
but he also drives their actions and their car. In the film’s climax,
Capitán Gato delivers the last statement of the caifanes to Jaime de
Landa. He says to Jaime, “Se le olvidó pagar, se acostumbró a que
siempre pagamos” [“You forgot to pay, you are so used to us picking
up the tab”]. Capitán Gato’s words have two referents—he is talking
about the actual breakfast tab as well as making a more general (and
heavy-handed) comment about the relationship between the upper-
and lower-classes.
El Estilos, the intellectual and the least threatening caifan,
is clean cut and wears semi-preppie clothing: white slacks, white-
collar shirt, and a sweater that he wears around his shoulders.
He is well mannered and the most polite of all the caifanes.
Through constant displays of his musical talent, Estilos flirts
with Paloma and encourages her to abandon Jaime. They man-
age to get away for some private time, much to Jaime’s displea-
sure. In the final scene, Estilos gives Paloma a wooden horse—a
direct reference to the Trojan horse: a token of his appreciation,
a reminder of their time alone, and the visual manifestation that
better men (like Estilos) do exist.
The character of Estilos suggests that caifanidad is not a
product of exterior appearance but rather that it is tied to a more
intangible essence. Estilos is a caifan because of his class back-
ground and his actions. Although he dresses in a presentable man-
ner (i.e., in a petite bourgeois manner), he still lacks the intangibles
of Paloma and Jaime de Landa, such as education and social sta-
tus. Capitán Gato is aware of this and tries to protect Estilos from
Jaime. Estilos is soft spoken and uses the least caló of the group.
He expresses his feelings through the songs he performs. The
musical theme of the movie, “Fuera del mundo” [“Out of this
world”] performed by Oscar Chávez, sums up Estilos’ feelings
towards Paloma and his desire to be with her. His character real-
izes that it would be impossible to be with Paloma given their
class differences. The song concludes that only an otherworldly
location would allow such a union.
Azteca and Mazacote are responsible for most of the chaos
around the caifanes. They interact less with Jaime and Paloma
directly, although they make comments and stare at Paloma con-
stantly. Azteca wears a modern pachuco outfit—a two-piece suit
with a thin tie. Mazacote wears a woolen sweater, knitted cap,
and jeans; he appears to be the slob of the group. Azteca’s sneaky
portrayal is achieved by the fact that he says little but causes a lot
of action to occur. Because the film relies heavily on dialogue,
the fact that Azteca speaks seldom and makes constant faces causes
the audience to think he is up to something. Mazacote is more
transparent. He likes to laugh and steal minor things, an act that
triggers major societal breakdowns.
Jaime de Landa, the upper-class man, is the only character
with a full name. He is a fictitious representative of a sector of
upper-class Mexican society that capitalizes in name recognition
and social position for personal and professional advancement.

As an architect, Jaime de Landa represents a positivist force hop-
ing to reform Mexican society through the establishment of new
rules. In essence, his character is an upwardly mobile young man
who has it all, while the caifanes are portrayed as having nothing
but the clothes on their backs and a decrepit VW bug. Ironically,
it is the caifanes who remain triumphant at the end of the film,
proving that Jaime is only an effeminate sissy.
The casting of Enrique Álvarez Félix, the only son of late
Mexican superstar María Félix, as Jaime de Landa is very impor-
tant. Álvarez Félix’s film career was always shadowed by his re-
lationship to his mother and the characters she portrayed in the
screen. María Félix specialized in Golden Age femme fatale roles
portrayed in a semi-masculine form. Her characters refused to be
tamed by society and men, and she would always get what she
wanted in direct contrast to established portrayals of Mexican
women. María Félix’s characterizations and her personal life were
blurred. She is remembered in Mexico as La Doña, an anachro-
nistic female caudillo whose power is based on her ability to sus-
tain her performance perpetually. In contrast, her son consistently
played effeminate and weak characters and was portrayed the same
way in the media. Throughout his life, Enrique Álvarez Félix was
plagued by rumors about his sexuality. After his death in 1996,
sources close to the family revealed that his “caretaker” was in fact
his male companion. Unlike other gay actors who were able to por-
tray ultra-masculine on-screen personas while keeping their pri-
vate lives private, Enrique Álvarez Félix specialized in performing
a specific character. He was always the spoiled, rich, effeminate,
and ineffectual man, a character who is suspected of being gay,
although this is never explicitly acknowledged or proven in the films.
Enrique Álvarez Félix’s refined sissy character challenges
societal roles but, at the same time, reaffirms other stereotypes
about the upper-classes. In Mexican film, upper-class young men
(señoritos, so to speak) are often portrayed as decadent young
men who fail to carry on the family dynasty. They are unable to
inherit their fathers’ ultra-masculinity and instead take after their
mothers. The sissy character is a comment on the upper-classes’
supposed inability to retain control of their position because of
some inherent birth defect caused by their restricted reproduction
with members of their own class. Although positive and mascu-
line portrayals of upper-class young men do exist, generally Mexi-
can filmmakers choose to portray these señoritos as fake and
incomplete. Upper-class characters like Jaime de Landa provide
an important fantasy for Mexican society. The portrayal suggests
that upper-class males are pitiful representatives of masculinity.
They are thus lower than the lower-classes and hence no threat to
the middle-class.
The character of Paloma is designed to capture the imagi-
nation of the film’s intended middle-class audience. Paloma, as
the sole beneficiary of the encounter, learns the secret language
of los caifanes, severs her dependence on Jaime, and has the chance
to temporarily “vivir intensamente.” As a character, she is more
Nohemy Solórzano-Thompson | Special In-Depth Section
sympathetic than the egotistical Jaime and is more complex than
any of the caifanes. The casting of Julissa in this role contributes
to the character’s appeal. Julissa, a popular actress in the 1960s
and 1970s who used only her first name, always played sympa-
thetic and ultra sexy upper-class women. She was often cast along-
side Enrique Álvarez Félix, who played her incompetent and/or
abusive boyfriend. Audiences were trained to vilify him and adore
her. Posters of the film highlight Paloma’s importance; they por-
tray her kissing Jaime while the caifanes longingly stare at her.
Caló and English: Secret
languages and inter-class
communication
In Los caifanes, language becomes an important tool to es-
tablish a series of hierarchies and encoded messages. Two “inside”
languages exist in the film: the lower-class caló and the upper-class
English. Language is used to differentiate the classes and create
tension as each group tries to outsmart the other through its use.
However, because the caifanes offer translation of their caló but
receive none from the upper-classes, the exchange is imbalanced.
In the fiction of the film, Jaime de Landa and Paloma are
unable to understand caló. They need the help of translators,
namely los caifanes, until Paloma picks up on the language and
begins understanding. She initially romanticizes the language and
its speakers. She says, “Que lindo hablan; hasta parece otra lengua”
[“They speak so beautifully, as if in another language”]. She then
slowly begins to “acquire” this new language. This action sym-
bolically represents Paloma’s “understanding” of the caifanes. The
audience, however, is not in need of a translator given that the
caló used in the film is not hard to decipher.
It is important to note that the speech of los caifanes is not
a representation of the actual speech of lower-class men. Juan
Ibáñez and Carlos Fuentes, elite intellectuals, developed the
screenplay of the film. The dialogue is the imagined speech of the
lower-classes; and in Mexican film, the lower-class man always
speaks caló. Although caló emerged in Mexico City as an urban,
secret language among lower-class men, the language was made
“public” through Golden Age films, especially those featuring
the actor Tin Tan. Because of cinema, Mexican audiences expect
urban lower-class men to speak a specific type of caló and for
that caló to be decipherable through the context of the film.
In Los caifanes, the upper-classes also have a secret lan-
guage—English. Just as the use of caló by los caifanes initially
excludes Jaime and Paloma, Jaime and Paloma use English to
talk privately. Once again, the audience is able to read between
the lines and understand what they are saying, but the caifanes
are not. Jaime and Paloma display their class status and privilege
through the use of English, which is mirrored by the fact that the
caifanes speak caló. The effect of this two-layered linguistic use
is to create the fiction that each class has its own secret language
Vol. 34.2 (2004) | 41
Solórzano-Thompson | Vicarious Identities: Fantasies of Resistance and Language in Juan Ibáñez’s Los caifanes (1966)
and that they are utilized to create intimacy and exclusion.
The two groups utilize their secret languages to denigrate
one another. The caifanes continuously make fun of Jaime de
Landa and call him names. The upper-class couple speaks about
the caifanes and Jaime calls them “greasers” in English. There
are several linguistic interchanges throughout the movie that play
between knowing and not knowing what the other is saying. The
caifanes try to bridge the gap by offering translations of their caló
words. Paloma’s continuous questioning of what has been said
prompts this process. The English used in the film is not trans-
lated for the caifanes.
The imbalance of translation and understanding creates a
power dynamic and hierarchy between the two languages and, by
extension, the two groups. The secret language of the caifanes is
readily available to both the upper-classes and the audience. The
upper-class knowledge, while accessible to the audience, is im-
penetrable to the caifanes, who are only able to understand when
Jaime calls them “greaser.” Capitán Gato originally tells Jaime
that what he dislikes about him is “el tono” [“the tone”] with which
he addresses them. So, although the caifanes are literarily unable
to understand the English, they know that what the upper-class
couple is saying is an insult. If the audience is able to understand
the English spoken, why can’t the caifanes get it? This is because
the caifanes are portrayed as lower-class men who are street smart
but unable to engage intellectually in the language of the upper-
classes. This of course is another fiction of the film. The caifanes
should be able to understand the English just like the audience. In
fact, most of the English dialogue is quite simple.
Paloma benefits the most from the use of two “secret” lan-
guages. She instantly picks up on caló and begins participating in
the linguistic exchange. This is part of a process that includes
Paloma as an actor in the mayhem. She is able to understand En-
glish and uses it to exclude los caifanes. As the translator be-
tween the two groups and as a speaker of both languages, Paloma
is the most developed character in the film and the one that cap-
tures the audience’s desires and imagination.
Cinema reality
Los caifanes is not an accurate representation of Mexico
City life, but it is true to the cinematic reality established in the
Golden Age of Mexican film. The upper-class man is a sissy, the
upper-class woman is bored, and the lower-class men are “real”
men. The action takes the characters on a tour to anticipated places
in the city. It is important to explore the limitations of the film
because of its imagined audience. The film contains many sym-
bolic elements that integrate elite culture along with the slang of
the film. The film cannot be captured in its entirety unless one is
familiar with the vast range of literary references that Juan Ibáñez
and Carlos Fuentes insert. It is possible to enjoy the film, but like
los caifanes who do not understand Jaime and Paloma’s English,
42 | Film & History
an uncultured audience will be the butt of the joke of the film
because they are unable to read between the lines.
It is not coincidental that the action of the film begins in
Querétaro, a small city outside Mexico City. After attending a party
at a friend’s country home, the upper-class couple loses their ride
to “civilization” when they run into los caifanes. The lower-class
men are in Querétaro because they work there. This initial situation
sets up the dichotomy between the civilized and the uncivilized.
Jaime and Paloma believe themselves to be the most modern of
citizens. The caifanes believe themselves to also be modern, espe-
cially in relation to the people with whom they work in Querétaro,
since “todavía están subdesarrollados ahí” [“they are still underde-
veloped there”]. From the point of view of the upper-class couple,
however, the caifanes are as underdeveloped as the people from
Querétaro. The caifanes’ phrase utilizes state-sponsored rhetoric
about subdesarollo [underdevelopment] to cast themselves in a fa-
vorable light in relation to social hierarchies that prioritize the capi-
tal city over the provinces. The upper-class couple’s inability to
accurately distinguish among the non-elite, however, suggests that
the distinctions so important to the caifanes are unimportant when
seen from above. Only the middle-class audience can see what
makes the caifanes distinctive and, at the same time, the futility of
making careful distinctions among the lower-classes.
In the film, the caifanes are portrayed as “accurate” repre-
sentatives of the lumpen proletariat of Mexico City. They are ren-
dered as supposed survivors of a class warfare that left them
without many resources. Capitán Gato says “no la jugamos todos
los días” [“we struggle everyday”], meaning that los caifanes ex-
ist in a state of constant instability because of class differences.
The film justifies the caifanes’ actions because they are portrayed
as destitute and powerless. They must create turmoil so as to make
an impact and to leave a mark in the city. The film suggests that
los caifanes only live at night. “La noche es larga, caifanes” [“the
night is long, caifanes”], says Capitán Gato at the beginning of
the film. They must return to their mechanic jobs the next day, so
they must enjoy their “variedades” [“entertainment”] in the ano-
nymity of the night. Lower-class men are portrayed as having
double roles—order in the day and disorder in the night. There is
little information about whether women also have these double
roles. The only developed female character is Paloma. She does
play a double role, but she is not lower-class. The lower-class
women in the film are only portrayed at night in limited roles.
Because this film is male-centric, the potential multiple roles for
women are not explored.
In Los caifanes, lower-class men are able to free themselves
from oppression through the creation of chaos since los caifanes
exist solely on “jaladas” [“antics”]. The antics of los caifanes both
define and sustain them. When Jaime tells Paloma that he wishes
to go home, she tells him “¿Cuántas noches así has vivido?” [“How
many nights like this have you experienced?”], suggesting that
the lower-class men are the only ones who “live intensely.” This

is an important fiction in Mexican popular culture. Films about
the lower-class men, as well as other popular culture portrayals,
suggest that lower-class men are in touch with primal behaviors
and express themselves accordingly. They are not repressed by
societal norms (which are portrayed as only affecting the middle
and upper-classes) and are instead free.
These portrayals suggest the creation of an urban noble sav-
age who utilizes disorder as a weapon against society and as an
expression of his innate nature. Lower-class men become “real”
men exemplifying the “natural” attributes of masculinity: violence,
strength, and aggressive sexuality. They are portrayed as inca-
pable of deceit—deceit is a tool of the middle and upper-classes
who utilize falseness to manipulate their image to fit a specific
situation. The popular Mexican saying, “aunque la mona se vista
de seda, mona se queda” [“even if the monkey dresses up, she
remains a monkey”], suggests that the lower-classes are incapable
of ever transcending their class essence; but this phrase also im-
plies that the lower-classes are true to themselves.
The developing relationship between Paloma and Estilos is
another stereotypical assumption about the “attributes” of the
lower-class man. Paloma is attracted to Estilos because he is vir-
ile, can sing, and is socially inferior. She has chosen to marry
Jaime, whom she tells, as way of explanation for her liaison with
Estilos, “tú y yo tenemos toda la vida para platicar” [“we have the
rest of our life to talk”]. However, she is curious to see what being
with a “real” man is like and hence chooses to be with Estilos.
Estilos is portrayed as more genuine in his desires. He wants to
be with Paloma because he is attracted to her. Estilos gives his
alliance to Paloma and imagines a possibility for their union—in
another reality. Meanwhile, Paloma is just bored and wants to
experience new sensations.
The caifanes’ intense lifestyle, however, is not realistic.
Many elements in the film point to the falsehood of los caifanes
as portrayed in the film. First of all, if they are mechanics return-
ing from work, why are they dressed the way they are? Second,
these men appear to have no family life. The only one who sup-
posedly has a romantic relationship is
Capitán Gato. In a memorable scene, he
visits with his “girlfriend.” The woman is
an old prostitute, much older than Gato.
It is really not clear who she really is. She
might be his girlfriend, his mother, or just
a friend he cares for. The men discuss
their mothers, but they use the past tense.
The caifanes, all four of them, appear to
be orphans given that use of the past tense
suggests that either their mothers are
dead, or those ties have been irreversibly
severed. Obviously the chances of all “Los caifanes are Capitán Gato (Sergio Jiménez), el Azteca
four caifanes being orphans or having (Emesto Gómez Cruz), el Mazacote (Eduardo López
severed all ties to their mothers are sus- Rojas), and el Estilos (Oscar Chávez).”
Nohemy Solórzano-Thompson | Special In-Depth Section
pect, especially in a country like Mexico, where the mother-son
bond is privileged above all others. Thirdly, los caifanes are,
contradictorily, simultaneously too cultured and too uncultured.
The character of Estilos is able to compose a song based on a
José Martí poem and comment on Mexico City urban settle-
ment. Capitán Gato is the authority on inter-class relations. At
the same time, the men are portrayed as fans of radionovelas
[radiodramas], are superstitious, and are crude in their use of
spoken and body language. This contradiction is neither acknowl-
edged nor resolved in the film. The list of contradictions and
falsehoods in this portrayal goes on; clearly los caifanes are not
actual men nor is the film a representation of true life.
In Los caifanes, life in the barrio is portrayed as more real
than in the upper-class areas. The five different episodes that struc-
ture the film are staged in different spots in Mexico City, which
supposedly are where the lower-classes spend their time. These
settings are the product of the imagination of the writers of the
film and cinematic and literary connections. They are in fact imag-
ined lower-class spots. The Geminis cabaret that the caifanes go
to is inspired by cinema portrayals of the “sordid” nightlife of
lower-class Mexico City. Since the Golden Age, Mexican film
has favored these imaginary spots to showcase the life of the lower-
classes. Films like Salón México (1948) and others of the
cabaretera genre established the rules of portrayal for these spaces.
Similarly, other spaces in the film are mere imaginations of life in
the barrio and not actual representations of it. It is because these
spaces are imaginary that they become powerful. Mexican cin-
ema contributes to the creation of imaginary spaces that are only
experienced through popular culture. The audience not only imag-
ines that actual spaces resemble these imagined spaces but ex-
pects that further portrayals of these imagined spaces will follow
established conventions of portrayal.
Drawing upon Octavio Paz, Roger Bartra discusses in La
jaula de la melancolía that Mexican cultural production has long
relied on established stereotypes. For example, lower-class men
are virile and can be relied upon to “keep it real,” while upper-
class men are effete, deracinated, and
incapable of sexually satisfying their
women. Los caifanes simply contin-
ues these established characterizations
uncritically, presenting one of the most
powerful portrayals of these stereo-
Courtesy of Film Archive
types in Mexican cinema. Marisol de
la Cadena’s discussion of stereotypes
in Peru allows us to contextualize Los
caifanes in another theoretical frame-
work. Drawing upon her assertion of
the necessity for the middle-class to
invalidate the upper-classes, we can
see that both upper-and lower-class
men in Los caifanes are mutually de-
Vol. 34.2 (2004) | 43
Solórzano-Thompson | Vicarious Identities: Fantasies of Resistance and Language in Juan Ibáñez’s Los caifanes (1966)
pendent in the film. Without the actions of Jaime de Landa, the
middle-class intended audience would not be able to understand
the caifanes. Recursively, the audience only understands Jaime
through the caifanes. The actions of each are needed for mutual
validation as well as understanding. For example, we would not
be able to understand Jaime’s masculinity without seeing the
caifanes’ interactions with Paloma. Similarly, Estilos’ manipula-
tion of words and music becomes important only in comparison
to Jaime’s stiffness. The class positions and masculine identities
of the characters become clear only through the intense contact
that the film portrays.
It is important to note, however, that Los caifanes ignores a
number of other established stereotypes in Mexican cultural pro-
duction. For example, variations on the character of ”la india”
feature prominently in Mexican film, television, and literature. In
fact, mestizaje has been presented as the foundational essence of
both upper and lower-class Mexicanness, stemming from the
fabled union of the indigenous slave La Malinche and the Span-
ish conquistador Hernán Cortés. In the words of intellectual and
state reformer José Vasconcelos, Mexicans are la raza cósmica—
a powerful hybrid race that will inherit the world. Los caifanes,
however, modifies these established racial stereotypes by prevent-
ing mestizaje and criticizing the upper-classes for their supposed
refusal to participate in this mythical and foundational process.
Jaime is so emasculated that his ability to reproduce even within
his own class is suspect. Paloma and Estilos become intimate, but
the only outcome is a wooden horse. None of the characters is
overtly racialized in any of the standard Mexican cultural tropes.
Although the upper-class characters are more “European,” at least
culturally, none of the lower-class characters are portrayed using
stereotypes of indigenousness.
Jean Franco’s discussion of mestizaje is a clear example of
the power both theoretically and real of this concept in Mexico.
That Los caifanes prevents mestizaje suggests that, as Carlos
Monsiváis has written, the middle-class intended audience of Los
caifanes has an ambiguous relationship with mestizaje as a central
foundational myth. On the one hand, mestizaje is a source of pride
and power. The emasculated Jaime’s disconnection from mestizaje
operates as a validation and empowerment of those who identify
with mestizaje. On the other hand, mestizaje carries with it the as-
sumption of racial mixing with the indigenous. Indigenousness, as
Guillermo Bonfil Batalla has noted, is invariably presented nega-
tively in Mexican culture. Los caifanes’ assertion that the power of
mestizaje can be appropriated without acquiring any of the features
or attributes normally linked to indigenousness allows a reconcili-
ation of both sides of mestizaje for the intended audience.
Order in the disorder
Los caifanes creates a structural fiction for the audience,
which is led to believe that it is experiencing a “revolutionary” art
house film that challenges all preexisting social and cinema rules.
44 | Film & History
This structural fiction echoes other fictions created in the film,
such as the claim that this film represents the true experience of
the lower-classes. The film utilizes supposedly avant-garde film
effects to legitimize its “revolutionary” claims about Mexico City
life. This legitimization is based on a claimed move away from
Golden Age cinematic conventions. The film, however, relies
heavily on Golden Age cinematography and themes, most nota-
bly through the use of melodrama.
Los caifanes is structured as a play perhaps because Juan
Ibañez began his career in the theatre. Each segment is an act that
takes place in a new stage. Each act follows a set narrative arc—
the characters enter the stage, the caifanes interpret the ambiance
for Jaime and Paloma, supporting characters are introduced to
add to the setting, an act of mischief is planned, things get out of
control, and everyone runs away. The film as a whole also fol-
lows a set narrative arc. Each successive act builds on the tension
established before until the film’s climax in the final act. There is
a short dénouement and the credits roll.
The only technique that stands out as avant-garde in Los
caifanes is the representation of the characters’ gaze. By “gaze,” I
mean both the direct portrayal of a character’s stare and the direc-
tion of the audience’s attention to a specific image or set of im-
ages; this is often combined with great effectiveness when the
object of the audience’s attention coincides with the object of the
character’s stare. The “gaze” becomes a silent way of communi-
cating the film’s encoded messages of desire, anger, and irony
and to focus the audience’s gaze. In a movie dominated by con-
ventional filmmaking elements, the gaze stands out and adds im-
portant layers of self-awareness and irony. It implies that the film
is aware of its own shortcomings and that a deeper layer of com-
munication is present. The camera shows how los caifanes gaze
at Paloma, at Jaime, and at each other. These gazes substitute for
interior monologues and hint at the inner thoughts of los caifanes.
The film successfully creates tension through these gazes, adding
an extra degree of silent interaction between the classes portrayed.
It also suggests that los caifanes are capable of some depth.
It is no coincidence that Paloma is the object of the caifan
gaze. She is often aware of the attention, unlike Jaime, who often
misses nuances throughout the film. The camera expresses los
caifanes’ desire for Paloma and their inner thoughts as a silent
dialogue between the men. Paloma is a witness to the exchange
and can guess some of its profundity, but it is the audience who is
privy to the inner thoughts and motivations of all the characters.
The film’s manipulation of the audience’s attention is cre-
ated to satisfy the motivations and expectations of the imagined
middle-class audience. The audience is expected to live vicari-
ously through the actions of the caifanes while maintaining a safe
distance. The imagined audience learns to identify with, desire,
and respect Paloma. She functions both as the audience’s repre-
sentative and its object of desire, thus complicating her role in the
film. While the audience safely imagines itself as powerful as a
 Nohemy Solórzano-Thompson | Special In-Depth Section

caifan, it also casts itself as Paloma who manages to maintain her Works Cited
upper-class status while performing disorder. At the end of the Bartra, Roger. La jaula de la melancolía: Identidad y metamorfosis del mexicano.
film, it is Paloma who has grown as a person and whose life is Mexico DF: Grijalbo, 1987.
changed by actions alongside los caifanes. Bonfil Batalla, Guillermo. México profundo: Una civilización negada. Mexico DF:
The film provides a middle-class fantasy about agency and Grijalbo, 1990.
control over the upper-classes through the use of lower-class men. Cadena, Marisol de la. Indigenous Mestizos: The Politics of Race and Culture in
These men are chosen because they are supposedly free to per- Cuzco, Peru, 1919-1991. Durham: Duke UP, 2000.
form violence and sexual acts. The middle-class audience would Franco, Jean. Plotting Women: Gender and Representation in Mexico. New York:
be unable to act in such a manner and maintain their social status. Columbia UP, 1989.
Furthermore, the middle-class does not wish to challenge exist- García Hernández, Arturo. “Falleció ayer el actor Eduardo López Rojas.” La Jornada
Virtual. 1 Aug. 1999.Mar. 2003 <http://www.jornada.unam.mx/1999/ago99/
ing societal hierarchies because that would call into question their
990801/esp-fallecio.html>.
own privilege. Instead, the middle-class audience can, from a dis-
Monsiváis, Carlos. Amor perdido. Mexico: Biblioteca Era, 1977.
tance, safely enjoy this film while not having to interact with ac- —. Mexican Postcards. Edited, translated and introduced by John Kraniauskas. New
tual lower-class men. York: Verso, 1997.
Paz, Octavio. El laberinto de la soledad. Postdata. Vuelta a El laberinto de la soledad.
Films Cited México: Fondo de Cultura Económica, 1981.
Los caifanes. Dir. Juan Ibáñez. Perf. Julissa, Enrique Álvarez Félix, Sergio Jiménez, Vasconcelos, José. La raza cósmica. Mexico: Espasa-Calpe Mexicana, 1948.
and Oscar Chávez. Estudios América and Cinematográfica Marte, 1966.
Nostros los pobres. Dir. Ismael Rodríguez. Perf. Pedro Infante. Rodríguez Hermanos, Nohemy Solórzano-Thompson is
1947. Assistant Professor of Spanish at
Los olvidados. Dir. Luis Buñuel. Perf. Roberto Cobo and Alfonso Mejía. Ultramar Whitman College, where she teaches
Films, 1950. courses in Hispanic theater,
Pepe El Toro. Dir. Ismael Rodríguez. Perf. Pedro Infante. Rodríguez Hermanos, film, music, and language. She is
1952. presently finishing a manuscript
Salón México. Dir. Emilio “Indio” Fernández. Perf. Marga López, Miguel Inclán, on the representation of Mexican and
Rodolfo Acosta, and Roberto Cañedo. CLASA Films Mundiales, 1948. Chicano men in twentieth
Ustedes los ricos. Dir. Ismael Rodríguez. Perf. Pedro Infante. Rodríguez Hermanos,
century Mexican and U.S. film.
1948.

Attention: Librarians
Electronic Research Resources From Film & History:
• Designed for use by both students and instructors

• All are word-searchable

• The Annual Series includes important books by noted films scholars

CURRENTLY AVAILABLE:

Film & History: The First 26 Years on CD-ROM • 1999 Film & History CD-ROM Annual
2000 Film & History CD-ROM Annual • 2001-2002 Film & History CD-ROM Annual
2003 Film & History CD-ROM Annual

See the order forms included in this issue or go to filmandhistory.org for complete details.

Vol. 34.2 (2004) | 45