As a film enthusiast and language aficionado, I find the insights shared by Gael García Bernal and Diego Luna about their Spanish-language project, “La Máquina,” incredibly intriguing. Their choice to create this work in Spanish, their homeland’s language, adds an authenticity that would be lost in translation.
Spoilers for all six episodes of La Máquina below.
14 years ago, in a tipsy state at the Berlin Film Festival, Gael García Bernal and Diego Luna conceived an idea for a joint project that would bring them back together on screen. The central theme would revolve around the intricate bond between an aging boxer and his manager, and it would be shot in Spanish against the backdrop of Mexico City. Moreover, it would delve into a pivotal moment they had encountered in their careers: determining when to step away from an opportunity. Over a ten-year period, they refined the script with a team of collaborators, which eventually evolved into “La Máquina“, Hulu’s first Spanish-language series. As García Bernal explains, it offers an examination of resisting the “culture of winning” in America. “Our goal was to discover an anti-fable where losing meant gaining your freedom.
In the story, Gael Garcia Bernal portrays boxer Esteban Osuna, who earned the nickname “The Machine” due to his consistent performance in the ring over the years. As he nears the end of his career, his confidant and manager, Andy Lujan (played by Luna), discloses that a mysterious group called Otras Personas is demanding repayment. If Esteban loses his title fight, both their families will face dire consequences. Both characters are grappling with personal issues: Esteban, haunted by his father’s abandonment as a child, is experiencing hallucinations and memory loss due to years of fighting; Andy is having difficulties conceiving a child with his spouse. It seems that each of these problems could find a resolution through a few possible scenarios: if Esteban won his fight or found reconciliation with his father, or if Andy and his wife were able to evade Otras Personas and conceive a child, everything would be resolved favorably.
In contrast to their past collaborations, García Bernal and Luna, who gained prominence in Alfonso Cuarón’s 2001 film Y Tu Mamá También, chose not to follow predictable paths. Instead, they aimed to create a “counter-narrative” that delved into the complexities of life, focusing on the idea that loss, including death, can lead to unprecedented opportunities. For instance, Esteban’s longing for his father’s presence propels him to become a more devoted father himself. Andy’s marital breakdown instills in him the humility he lacked. In the climactic boxing match, Esteban puts up a valiant fight but ultimately loses due to bribery from Andy, who wanted Otras Personas to receive their rightful recognition. The actors portray this poignant moment with striking authenticity: Andy, beaming with satisfaction at Esteban’s exceptional performance in the ring, departs silently from the contest, leaving a frantic Esteban questioning “Where’s Andy?” By relinquishing himself, Andy guarantees Esteban’s liberty — an act that Luna describes as a testament to friendship: “It’s a beautiful expression of camaraderie.” While others might view their circumstances as tragic, Luna contends that they represent sacrifice: “It’s a beautiful moment of friendship.
Gael García Bernal: From the start, certain elements were already in place: the boxer reaching his peak success, only for things to drag on—like milking a cow, so to speak. Our aim was to create an anti-fable where losing could lead to winning your freedom. That’s when we decided to introduce Otras Personas. It’s fascinating to play with this deity-like figure, the mythological aspect of who charts someone’s life course, whether it be humans or gods. As the story developed, other writers and collaborators joined in, helping us make sense of everything from start to finish. Marco Ramirez, in particular, excelled at integrating that concept into a TV series format.
Diego Luna: The project underwent a change. There’s an eight or nine-year-old film script at its heart, where the main storyline resides. Many of the elements we are dealing with today can be traced back to that script. Initially, the concept of gaining freedom by giving up something was an abstract idea we had long held. The sacrificial act of a friend has been present throughout – this friendship, which is imbalanced in many ways, requires this sacrifice to restore balance. In each version, there was always a need for understanding to emerge at the end. It’s a powerful moment symbolizing friendship. However, over time, the nature of the sacrifice evolved, and it wasn’t until Marco took hold of the story that he discovered the perfect way to execute it.
As a movie critic, here’s how I might rephrase the question:
G.G.B.: What personal journeys and challenges led me to explore the concept of ‘losing is winning’ in my work?
In simpler terms, I often find myself in situations where stepping away from a project is the best way to contribute to its success. Even though I’d love to participate, my involvement might not benefit the project as much as watching it unfold from a distance. It’s beneficial to detach emotions and personal desires, such as wanting to play a certain character, and think about what’s best for the story. This can be compared to Esteban’s life in boxing, but it’s important to note that acting and telling stories are different from boxing, which is about winning or losing. If my life or career were about winning or losing, I’m not sure I could handle it all.
In the final episode, Esteban puts everything into his last boxing fight before retiring. Andy manipulates the judges to make sure Esteban loses, as instructed by Otras Personas, and ultimately sacrifices himself to protect Esteban and his family. The final shot shows Esteban coaching his sons at the gym; he senses Andy’s presence, but then the camera spins around to reveal that Andy was just a vision. This is how the season ends. Did you film scenes in sequence?
G.G.B.: It was the first thing we shot together.
How did it feel, working on it backwards, as we did with “Y Tu Mamá Tambien”? In this case, we filmed the final scene first.
D.L.: That’s true! I forgot that.
D.L.: It establishes both the energy level and the required mindset effectively. It’s similar to the distinction between filming a documentary and a movie. In a documentary, you anticipate that your perspective on the subject and the narrative will shift by the end. If nothing changes for you, then it’s not successful. In Berlin, we emphasized that success lies in altering the story’s conclusion: Success means understanding that failure is inevitable. How do we achieve this? We know our destination clearly, and we won’t be satisfied until we reach it.
As a lifetime cinematography enthusiast, I’ve shared the screen with Diego before. During this filming, a choice he made left me taken aback. It was when Diego had his makeup and costumes on, his dedication to the character was palpable and unexpectedly infectious. He wasn’t lost in some tortured actor persona; instead, he reveled in the joy of the role. I couldn’t help but be surprised – wow, he’s giving it his all consistently. And then there was Andy, who kept the set buzzing with energy. Andy thrives on being the center of attention and would seize any moment to multitask as a producer, director, and actor. He had everyone in stitches with his humor and antics.
Here are two points: Firstly, I had certain ideas about the work Gael would produce, but he not only met my expectations, but exceeded them. He created a boxer with a unique fighting style based on his character design. The depth of this boxer’s humanity and the intense emotions he carries were hinted at on set, but I saw more when I watched the work. A lot of these deeper emotions are shown in solitary moments, such as when he watches the video, interacts with the doctor, or reflects on quiet times. I could really feel the character’s emotional depth, and this powerful energy drives the story.
In this cinematic venture, every single aspect seemed meticulously crafted to underscore our involvement. The narrative constantly nudged me, whispering, “Remember, we’re making this film because of that wild night in Berlin when you all got tipsy.
G.G.B.: [Laughs]
“We’re doing this project because you all expressed interest in working together again, and we’ll be filming it in Churubusco. Gael carries this with such grace and effortlessness, yet he embodies the role so freely, lightly, and joyfully. Even when carrying the weight of a massive train, it seems as though he’s living in the moment. It’s inspiring, and I need to stop complaining about having to drink shakes with a straw due to my prosthetics.
D.L.: Each project we work on has its own unique character dynamics, and that’s what makes them special. In this case, Andy and Esteban’s relationship is distinct from Julio and Tenoch’s in Y Tu Mamá También. Working together after a decade brings change, and we can’t predict the future of the characters from the earlier film. However, if you delve deeply enough, you might find some common threads between us as actors, but their relationship seems to be more complex due to its business-friendship ambiguity.
In our approach to our work, there’s a definite echo of the dedication, thoroughness, and team spirit demonstrated in the film “Y Tu Mamá También“. The care taken in decision-making, the pursuit of detail, the collaborative effort – all these elements resonate with us. Interestingly, some of the very people who worked on that movie were part of our team, including the gaffer, Javier Enríquez. This connection runs deep for both of us, as it was a pivotal project that left an indelible mark.
In our initial plan, the karaoke sessions were an essential element from the very beginning of our collaboration on that lively night in Berlin. We thought, “They should sing and express themselves. Let’s find a way to make karaoke a constant backdrop for the characters.
In an effort to progress swiftly with La Máquina’s career and eliminate the need for frequent time-travel flashbacks, we aimed to portray their strong friendship and shared history more subtly. When they perform karaoke together like that, it’s clear that their bond has been strengthened over many years. There is indeed a deep connection among the trio – it’s not just a casual association; it’s a well-established triangle. Upon observing them, one can immediately sense that they have been collaborating for quite some time.
Creating choreography for karaoke enthusiasts who aren’t professionals was quite intriguing, making it hilarious and distinctly reminiscent of the ’80s.
D.L.: Initially, during the filming process, we emphasized the importance of getting it right and rehearsing thoroughly. Then, suddenly… Action! That’s when you prepare, discuss, and then have limited time to perform – either hours or minutes. We enjoyed every moment, but we had to move quickly. We made the most of each opportunity. We gave it our all, didn’t we?
Initially excelling at the task was Eiza. She essentially said, “Let’s get moving, everyone, I’ve got a lead.
Instead of saying she was being nice, it might be more accurate to describe her tone as firm, since she didn’t invite everyone to catch up and instead used a stronger language like “Fuck, Diego. Get it right, you fucker!
G.G.B.: [Laughs.] Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.
D.L.: I didn’t participate in the rehearsal sessions with them as the process of applying prosthetics made me feel quite isolated. There was a celebratory dinner on a Friday, marking our preparations to start shooting from Monday, and I was busy in my trailer experimenting with the prosthetics to find the best fit. Similarly, during the karaoke rehearsals, I practiced alone for just a few minutes. The others seemed quite proficient with the choreography, and I often found myself needing their presence to understand what was going on.
From a narrative perspective, this alignment is understandable – given their frequent intimate encounters, it was only natural that these two would move in harmony, with Andy being excluded from these events.
Gael, in a recent conversation, you shared that filming La Máquina in Spanish was significant because it’s a “deeply existential language” and “feels like home.” Was there a particular scene where you felt especially grateful to perform and express yourself in your native tongue?
D.L.: Andy simply wouldn’t be Andy without the Spanish language. Full stop.
G.G.B.: It’s true. What language we should speak is not something that normally appears in the creative process; most of the time it’s interconnected to the people who are doing it. That question might come up in circumstances like when they’re doing Napoleon and they say, “Let’s do it in English because more people are going to watch it,” and you’re like, “Man, come on. That would be Napoleon’s worst nightmare.” [Laughs.] For us, it was not a choice. It’s not even a question. We wanted that, and we wanted to do it in Mexico City and in the boxing world in Mexico.
In Spanish, the musicality of its language presents unique possibilities for exploration and questioning that might be approached differently in other languages. For instance, Spanish has two verbs for “being” – one for permanence and another for transience. This constant existential inquiry – Are things as they are written? Will they remain so, or are they subject to change? – is inherent in the language itself, opening up a wide range of opportunities for creative expression.
In simpler terms, the different interpretations of “being” within our language can be somewhat unclear or enigmatic. This ambiguity is mirrored by the mysterious nature of these “Other Persons,” who don’t appear to have a fixed existence. They seem to exist everywhere and represent all possible ways of being, much like how the United States, which is often associated with a culture of striving for victory, can symbolize multiple potential realities or ways of life.
D.L.: Or losing.
G.G.B.: Indeed. Victory or defeat. However, in Mexico, it’s not about triumphing. I can’t quite put my finger on it. We seem to find more significance in understanding that success isn’t the only aspect of life. This could be due to history, language, Protestantism, Catholicism, and it extends to our culture.
A notable illustration of this concept is the Day of the Dead. Instead of mourning those who have passed, we honor and remember them, keeping their spirits alive among us. This idea might be challenging for other cultures to grasp.
La Máquina’s showrunner and executive producer.
The Mexico City neighborhood Churubusco is home to the famous Estudios Churubusco, one of the country’s old movie studios. García Bernal previously filmed there when working on the 2018 heist movie Museum.
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2024-10-16 17:55