“The greatest riches a man can have in his life – la familia.” – José Sánchez
Gregory Nava’s Mi Familia/My Family is a golden tribute to the complex, loving, tragic, angry, thoughtless, joyful, forgiving tangle of relationships found in practically any family. But in this 1995 feature film the focus is on the Sánchez family – José and María and their children, Paco, Irene, Chucho, Toni, Memo, and Jimmy – and their lives in La Villa de Nuestra Señora de Los Angeles, otherwise known as L.A. Only José and his second son, Chucho, were born in Mexico. All the others are American citizens by birth, Mexican by ethnic origins.
Narrated by the eldest son Paco [Edward James Olmos], Nava’s tale of the Sánchez family is presented in chronological order with special emphasis on certain periods, all of which show the changing cultural values and attitudes of the characters as they grow older. Naturally Paco begins “at the beginning” with the decision of the eventual patriarch, José Sánchez, to travel northward in 1926, after the death of his adulterous brother (presented in a near-comic, fatalistic manner – así es la vida). The young man, barely in his mid-20s, leaves his village in Michoacán by walking for many months and gathering material for the tall tales of his later years. Still, it was an amazing endeavor, especially since he didn’t know that Los Angeles was at least 1000 miles from his hometown. All he knew was that a distant relative lived there – “El Californio,” who had been born in Los Angeles when it was still part of Mexico (pre-1848).
After his long trek, José settles into the wooden ramshackle house of El Californio in East L.A., near the trickling, walled-in Los Angeles River, gets a job as a gardener in West L.A., meets María (played by pre-Selena Jennifer Lopez), marries, and begins a family with the first two of their six children. They are a perfectly happy, struggling young couple with corn growing in the backyard and beans in the front. A cup of café con leche and a few moments rest at the dining room table provide a simple, but powerful image of their love.
But as the Great Depression worsens, that bond will be broken. With President Hoover in office, flailing about in search of solutions to the deepening economic crisis, eyes turned toward Mexicans and Mexican Americans as scapegoats. The “Repatriation” program began in 1930 and hundreds of thousands of Latinos, many of whom had been born in the USA, were rounded up in jobs, homes, parks, or businesses, put on trains, and forsaken deeply within central Mexico, courtesy of an agreement between the railroads ($14.75 bounty for each “captive”) and the American federal government. For many, who had lived all or most of their lives in California, Arizona, New Mexico, or Texas, being in Mexico was a shock while being away from their families and jobs was devastating. Estimates run as high as 400,000 repatriados enmeshed in this ruthless exercise in xenophobia over a three-year period. Unknowingly it became a trial run for the later mistreatment of Japanese Americans during World War II and the internment camps built throughout the Southwest. Deafening echoes of this abominable injustice are resounding once again in the 21st century with the brutal tactics of ICE agents.
Maria Sánchez, although pregnant and an American citizen by birth, is one such repatriada caught up in a raid while she is out shopping. José simply knows that she has disappeared, but no word can be sent to loved ones. Taken to a country she has never known, she fortunately finds an aunt who had continued living in Mexico. Even so, María is understandably determined to return to José and her two children. In the meantime she must give birth to her third child, whom she names Jesús, nicknamed Chucho. Her journey back to Los Angeles will be even more difficult than that of the young José some 6-7 years earlier. And during that trip, Chucho’s destiny will be marked by the spirit of the river and the fatal omen of the buho [the owl].
Once the family is reunited after a two-year separation, the movie jumps ahead more than 20 years. Chucho, now in his early 20s, is a full-blown pachuco – incorrectly defined by some as a gang member. Yes, he has his clica – his group of carnales (blood-brother friends) – and, yes, he does sell mota [marijuana], but he is not a wayward young man hell-bent on shooting, maiming, or robbing. He is all about pride, looks, and music (the blessed 1950s mash-up of R&B, rock ‘n’ roll, and Latin rhythms). He is Mexican American and isn’t interested in following in his father’s footsteps into West L.A. to work on the yards of the rich gabachos [Whites]. Chucho makes easy money, has a really cool low-rider car, dresses well (with an emphasis on well-ironed pants, t-shirts, and shirts, all of which he does himself because no one else would give the job so much time and love), and has a beautiful girl friend and carnales that always have his back. Besides Chucho and the older Paco and Irene, the Sánchez family has grown in the intervening two decades with another girl, Toni, a studious young boy Memo, and the surprise child Jimmy.
In the scene which takes us into the late 1950s, we hear “Angel Baby” (by Rosie and the Originals, actually not released until December 1960, but oh, well, as Paco narrates, “It’s 1958 or 1959, mas o menos” – more or less). Such is the musical background for Irene’s impending wedding. The outdoor reception behind the Sánchez home is a splendid family affair, one requisite among Mexican American families, even if the money isn’t always easy to come by. Everything must be just right for the marriage of the eldest daughter.
But there are dark undercurrents in this scene. Toni has her own revelation to make – her decision to marry Jesús (as in Christ, not the boy next door). Chucho diplomatically, but bravely, avoids a confrontation with Butch Mejía, a far angrier, more dangerous pachuco leading his own clica, none of whom are dressed up for the wedding, but are decked out in the requisite cholo uniform of khakis, white t-shirts, with some plaid shirts buttoned all the way to the neck and draped outside the pants. Here, as in many places, the voice-over narration of Paco, the elder brother who is reminiscing about the family, deconstructs the narrative flow and breaks the tension by saying, “They were both so full of macho bullshit, it was incredible.” Paco simply doesn’t buy into all the testosterone drama, but that is in retrospect.
After Irene has gone off to wedded bliss and Paco is in the Navy and Toni is pursuing her religious destiny, Chucho, Jimmy and Memo remain behind with their parents. But despite the glorious colors inside the house, a darkness is beginning to descend over Chucho. He might think he is charting his own course, but his mother still fears for him because of the omens of the owl and the river. Father and son have a violent confrontation after Chucho yells, “Fuck la dignidad [dignity, one of the cornerstones of José’s world view] and fuck your struggle. This [$$ in his hands] is all they respect in this country. Most of all I don’t wanna be like you.” Chucho rushes off into his own mid-century American world, leaving behind an angry father, an aggrieved mother, and a disconsolate Jimmy, who idolizes this older brother above all others.
Eventually an unavoidable and deadly confrontation with Butch Mejía at a ballroom makes Chucho a man on the run. His fate is inevitable as police comb through the East Los Angeles neighborhood looking for the fugitive. Surprisingly we never see the police burst into the Sánchez family home, guns drawn, shouting orders. Instead, the family sits watching and laughing at I Love Lucy, all but José who sits alone in a room brooding over the separation from his son. Only when it is too late do they realize something horrible has happened down under the bridge, near the trickling river.
Making his film at a time of interest in the magical realism of novelist García Márquez, Gregory Nava laced various natural and spiritual symbols throughout his film. The spirit of the water, in the form of a raging river in Mexico and a tamed version in East L.A., seems to want Chucho. The owl appears at ominous times, especially if seen in the daytime. Here it is not a symbol of wisdom; instead, it foreshadows danger or worse. The milpa [the small corn field in the family’s backyard] is also a potent reminder of the grain of life which originated among indigenous people long before the European conquest. More than religion, it seems to sustain José and keep him connected with Mother Earth and the power of rebirth and renewal.
In an interview in the Fall 1995 edition of Cineaste, Nava revealed that he purposely put four brothers into the family to suggest the four major Aztec ruling gods, Tezcatlipoca (sower of discord), Quetzalcoatl (symbol of death and resurrection), Huitzilopochtli (warrior god of migrations), and Tlaloc (god of rain and renewal). But it’s not a rigid system by which we can identify each brother. Nava simply wanted to suggest that within these four men are mythic elements of various character types, attitudes, attributes, and possibilities. To show the mixture of European and indigenous aspects of his Mexican American characters, Nava purposely placed beneath the Catholic veneer – the rituals, beliefs, and Maria’s faith – a pre-Columbian foundation of Toltec and Aztec religious motifs.
But none of this symbolism of pre-Columbian beliefs and gods would help the young Jimmy, who witnesses the cruel and needless actions of the police under the bridge near his home. Without much fanfare, Nava presents a murderous scene that has been perpetrated by some officers of the law throughout American history. That moment witnessed by Jimmy will forever scar him. He begins a long journey toward becoming a man full of rage and anger at the needless death of his brother by the “authorities.”
The film once more jumps ahead 20 years, just as Jimmy is coming out of prison for armed robbery. He returns home for a short while but mainly sits in his room brooding. José still putters around with his corn and vegetables, while María shouts out warnings to the characters on her telenovelas [soap operas]. Somehow the house seems emptier with all the remaining children out pursuing their own dreams. Jimmy brings only darkness and sorrow.
But one can always count on Toni to show up with a new surprise. She has left her life as a nun and married a priest, well, an ex-priest. After some consternation over this new direction in his younger daughter’s life, José says, “If it’s OK with God, it’s OK with us.” Maria is not so convinced and has a sleepless night in which she begins to brood over what all has happened to their family. In some ways, this is a low point for José and María. But José manages to console his wife and maintain hope.
By this point Nava broadens the world of his characters. Toni has been involved as a nun in missionary work in Central America and is now back in Los Angeles helping immigrants and refugees, who are being deported to possible/probable death in El Salvador or Nicaragua or Guatemala, some of the hot spots of the 1980s which saw the rise of right-wing death squads. One woman they help is a young Salvadoreña, whose union organizer father was gunned down before her very eyes back home, thus necessitating a flight to the US. The only way to keep her from being deported to her dangerous homeland is if she is married to a US citizen. It is at that point that Jimmy’s life has a possibility of hope.
In a scene reminiscent of a happier Chucho teaching the neighborhood kids how to mambo around his newly washed low-rider, Isabel seduces Jimmy through dancing a merengue while he washes his car. How could he not fall in love at that moment? When they are finally locked in an embrace, he is able to talk about the difficulty of being unable to show any emotion but anger. “On the inside I feel like I’m burning. Outside, I’m like a stone. I’m here on the outside but I don’t give a shit about nothing. I’m alone.” They share their stories of loss and both souls and bodies are united. It is a powerful scene, wondrously played by Jimmy Smits. He became lost upon the murder of his brother and now he is found through the love of a woman he barely knows.
But fate or owls or whatever evil is out there simply won’t leave them alone. Loss comes to Jimmy once more as Isabel becomes a cihuateotl (an Aztec designation for women who die in childbirth, recognized as equivalent to warriors who die in battle). The child, Carlitos, survives and is then raised by his grandparents. However, once more Jimmy plunges into darkness
But since in this film family is really the foundation on which to build, Jimmy does find a way to put his life back together after 5-6 years and bring peace of mind to his parents again. He is given a second chance, recognizes it, and finally sees a way to take it. It won’t be easy, especially since being defeated by a little boy seems so unlikely for this strong man who has endured so much. Going down to the spot where Chucho was killed helps bring that tragic chapter to a close in his heart. Sitting out in his father’s corn patch with Carlitos is what cinches the salvation and redemption for Jimmy and helps a little boy find what he has been missing all along – a father who cares about him. Grandparents are fine and loving, but a child can always feel abandoned in the absence of a mother or father.
Finally, when all the children are once more gone, María calls José in for his café con leche, a ritual that has been going on for over 50 years by then. José says, “We’ve had a good life. We’ve been very lucky.” María begins to add, “It would have been even better if….,” but José cuts her off. She finally agrees, “Life has been very good.” With all things considered, accepted, and forgiven, they are right.
Writer, producer, director Gregory Nava was born 10 April 1949 in San Diego, California. He is of Mexican and Basque descent. He received an MFA degree in film at UCLA, where he met his future wife/collaborator Anna Thomas. Both their first feature film, El Norte, and Mi Familia have been added to the prestigious National Film Registry. Nava went on to direct Selena (1997), Why Do Fools Fall in Love (1998), and Bordertown (2007).
Mi Familia can be rented on Amazon Prime and Apple TV.
