Entertainment
Paco Ignacio Taibo II: A book-reading advocate in the era of TikTok
Mexico City —
He is among Mexico’s most celebrated novelists, historians and left-wing activists. But Paco Ignacio Taibo II is best known for his fictional alter ego: Héctor Belascoarán Shayne, a one-of-a-kind private eye confronting injustice, corruption and crime in the noir depths of 1970s Mexico City. The gumshoe’s exploits, punctuated with suspense, dark comedy and a motley cast unique to the demimonde of the Mexican capital, have been made into films and a Netflix series and translated into English and other languages.
Taibo, 75, has penned more than 40 books, among them nine Belascoarán mysteries, biographies (subjects include Ernesto “Che” Guevara and Gen. Francisco “Pancho” Villa) and ruminations on signature historic events, such as the 1968 Mexico City student protests, in which he was a participant.
The prolific author also serves as a kind of cultural commissar, heading the government’s publishing house, El Fondo de Cultura Económica, which has published 10,000-plus titles across genres in its august, 90-year history. El Fondo has bookstores in Mexico — the world’s most populous Spanish-speaking nation — and others throughout Latin America and Spain.
Taibo’s longtime friend and leftist compadre, Andrés Manuel López Obrador, Mexico’s former president, tapped him for the publishing post. López Obrador’s successor, President Claudia Sheinbaum, who took office in October, reappointed him to the post.
Taibo spoke to The Times at a cafe outside El Fondo’s main bookstore in Mexico City. The author, in jeans and a red polo shirt, chain-smoked Marlboros and sipped Coca-Cola — mainstays of a U.S. culture that he often disdains — as he held forth on literature, politics, reading in the digital age and mortality. This conversation has been edited for length and clarity.
What is El Fondo de Cultura Económica?
El Fondo is a publisher with a degree of independence from the government, co-financed by the apparatus of the state and its own book sales. At the same time it’s a center for the promotion and stimulation of reading.
We publish 40 books a month and reach out to readers with libro-buses [libraries on wheels].
El Fondo has changed since you took charge.
We inherited [in 2019] a structure with a lot of corruption, incapacity, ineptitude. We had more than 100,000 books — many by young authors — not distributed, sitting in a warehouse. What we said was: “We are going to edit, promote and distribute these books at a low price so that they find their readership.” We changed all the rules of the game.
Some have criticized you for shifting El Fondo’s focus from academic texts to more populist — and less expensive (some El Fondo booklets sell for $1 or less, and relatively few books cost more than $25) — works of fiction, children’s literature and illustrated works.
That’s not true. A very important portion of the books we publish each month has to do with science. … But our priority is making books available to people who often don’t have access to them — because of the price, the distribution network, whatever.
Is helping young writers a priority?
They are a natural source, but it’s not a question of quotas. My brother used to joke: “Until when can someone be considered a young poet? Until age 50.” But we do have a specific collection of young authors from outside the capital [Mexico City]. We want to extend our reach to writers who don’t have access to publishing.
In the digital era, how much of a challenge is it to promote books, especially among the young?
Obviously this is a time with very strong pressures toward distraction, the mobile phone. We [publishers] are no longer the bosses of the game. We have to battle. We now have six programs on TV each week speaking about books, and seven on radio. We make TikToks and whatever else we have to do to convince adolescents that reading is fun.
Mexican writer Paco Ignacio Taibo II.
(Cecilia Sanchez Vidal / For The Times)
El Fondo has a distribution hub for its collection in San Diego, and also a mobile “book truck” visiting schools, libraries, etc., in that area. Might El Fondo expand its reach among Spanish speakers in the United States?
I have to go to Los Angeles to see what the possibilities are to make a good bookstore and a cultural center. We can’t do it alone. We would have to associate ourselves with independent Hispanic booksellers.
There’s a perception that the current age of Latin American literature pales in comparison with the “boom” years of the 1960s and 1970s, the heyday of Gabriel García Márquez, Julio Cortázar, Carlos Fuentes, Mario Vargas Llosa, etc. What’s your take?
You really can’t compare. Give it time. Maybe now is not as brilliant as the boom, but you need distance to judge. I was very, very fortunate: I read Latin American literature like crazy in my youth. … And of course there have been some advances, some expanses of genres, since then. … In the 1980s Latin American authors took on the dimension of la novela negra [the “noir,” or dark, novel], police mysteries that mixed the criminal with the social milieu. I am part of that movement.
Belascoarán Shayne stands somewhere on the gumshoe spectrum between Sam Spade and Columbo — but is very much a chilango, or Mexico City native. He clings to a sense of decency amid an atmosphere of moral decay, sometimes verging on the surreal. His loyal Dr. Watson is a plumber. The detective’s singular pedigree: He’s the son of an Irish folk singer mom and a Basque sea captain dad.
But he’s absolutely Mexican.
As a child, you emigrated to Mexico with your family from Spain. That was after the Spanish Civil War. Did that epochal conflict resonate in your home?
My grandparents participated in the war. One died and one was put in jail.
They were Republicans against Francisco Franco?
Republicans of course! I would die of shame if not.
You are an outspoken supporter of ex-president López Obrador and President Sheinbaum, and their proclaimed “transformation” of Mexican society. What about critics who say Mexico is on a path to a one-party, authoritarian state?
Authoritarian, really? Did they forget something? The time in Mexico when there was a congress with 315 [ruling-party] deputies and one independent? That wasn’t that long ago. And a time when the president was elected via fraud? A country that resolved its conflicts through violent repression? That was authoritarian.
Is political polarization on the rise?
Is this a polarized country? Yes? Is it more polarized than it used to be? No. When they fired against los campesinos in Aguas Blancas [a 1995 police massacre of 17 peasants in western Guerrero state], was this country less polarized than now? No. It was polarized in a different way.
Are you bothered by the international pushback against leftist political rule in Mexico?
Conservative thought in the United States and Spain doesn’t like what we are doing in Mexico. I get it. We represent the left and we don’t hide in a cave. We favor social programs over capital. Andrés Manuel [López Obrador] said it very clearly: “We have no problem with big capital in Mexico — but with fair salaries, full liberty and no plundering.”
How do you see Mexico’s future?
Complicated. And hopeful.
Fans await new tales of Belascoarán navigating the capital’s brooding depths. Have the world-weary shamus and the former Aztec capital lost their noir juju?
I’ve lost it, because I’ve become old. I no longer write novels with the same angle. At nights now I’m writing a mystery novel — but not with Belascoarán but with Olguita, my favorite character. She is a journalist, 22.
You ever get tired? Time to sit back and savor the smokes and Coca-Cola?
El Fondo demands tremendous energy — but it’s an interesting energy. We are providing something to people that they didn’t have: access to the world of books.
Do you ever contemplate the Reaper?
No. That’s a waste of time. You get enough time on this earth, and when it’s over, it’s over. When you’re an author who writes noir novels and you direct a publishing house, you face two possibilities: Be optimistic, or kill yourself.
Special correspondent Cecilia Sánchez Vidal contributed to this report.
Movie Reviews
‘Hoppers’ review: Who can argue with hilarious talking animals?
Just when you think Pixar’s petting-zoo cute new movie “Hoppers” is flagrantly ripping off James Cameron, the characters come clean.
movie review
HOPPERS
Running time: 105 minutes. Rated PG (action/peril, some scary images and mild language). In theaters March 6.
“You guys, this is like ‘Avatar’!,” squeals 19-year-old Mabel (Piper Curda), the studio’s rare college-age heroine.
Shoots back her nutty professor, Dr. Fairfax (Kathy Kajimy): “This is nothing like ‘Avatar!’”
Sorry, Doc, it definitely is. And that’s fine. Placing the smart sci-fi story atop an animated family film feels right for Pixar, which has long fused the technological, the fantastical and the natural into a warm signature blend. Also, come on, “Avatar” is “Dances With Wolves” via “E.T.”
What separates “Hoppers” from the pack of recent Pix flix, which have been wholesome as a church bake sale, is its comic irreverence.
Director Daniel Chong’s original movie is terribly funny, and often in an unfamiliar, warped way for the cerebral and mushy studio. For example, I’ve never witnessed so many speaking characters be killed off in a Pixar movie — and laughed heartily at their offings to boot.
What’s the parallel to Pandora? Mabel, a budding environmental activist, has stumbled on a secret laboratory where her kooky teachers can beam their minds into realistic robot animals in order to study them. They call the devices “hoppers.”
Bold and fiery Mabel — PETA, but palatable — sees an opportunity.
The mayor of Beaverton, Jerry (Jon Hamm), plans to destroy her beloved local pond that’s teeming with wildlife to build an expressway. And the only thing stopping the egomaniacal pol — a more upbeat version of President Business from “The Lego Movie” — is the water’s critters, who have all mysteriously disappeared.
So, Mabel avatars into beaver-bot, and sets off in search of the lost creatures to discover why they’ve left.
From there, the movie written by Jesse Andrews (“Luca”) toys with “Toy Story.” Here’s what mischief fuzzy mammals, birds, reptiles and insects get up to when humans aren’t snooping around. Dance aerobics, it turns out.
Per the usual, “Hoppers” goes deep inside their intricate society. The beasts have a formal political system of antagonistic “Game of Thrones”-like royal houses. The most menacing are the Insect Queen (Meryl Streep — I’d call her a chameleon, but she’s playing a bug), a staunch monarch butterfly and her conniving caterpillar kid (Dave Franco). They’re scheming for power.
Perfectly content with his station is Mabel’s new best furry friend King George (Bobby Moynihan), a gullible beaver who ascended to the throne unexpectedly. He happily enforces “pond rules,” such as, “When you gotta eat, eat.”
That means predators have free rein to nosh on prey, and everybody’s cool with it. Because of bone-dry deliveries, like exhausted office drones, the four-legged cast members are hilarious as they go about their Animal Planet activities.
No surprise — talking lizards, sharks, bears, geese and frogs are the real stars here. They far outshine Mabel, even when she dons beaver attire. Much like a 19-year-old in a job interview, she doesn’t leave much of an impression.
Yes, the teen has a heartfelt motivation: The embattled pond was her late grandma’s favorite place. Mabel promised her that she’d protect it.
But in personality she doesn’t rank as one of Pixar’s most engaging leads, perhaps because she’s past voting age. Mabel is nestled in a nebulous phase between teenage rebellion and adulthood that’s pretty blasé, even if a touch of tension comes from her hiding her Homo sapien identity from her new diminutive pals. When animated, kids make better adventurers, plain and simple.
“Hoppers” continues Pixar’s run of humble, charming originals (“Luca,” “Elio”) in between billion-dollar-grossing, idea-starved sequels (“Inside Out 2,” probably “Toy Story 5”). The Disney-owned studio’s days of irrepressible innovation and unmatched imagination are well behind it. No one’s awed by anything anymore. “Coco,” almost 10 years ago, was their last new property to wow on the scale of peak Pixar.
Look, the new movie is likable and has a brain, heart and ample laughs. That’s more than I can say for most family fare. “A Minecraft Movie” made me wanna hop right out of the theater.
Entertainment
Ulysses Jenkins, Los Angeles artist and pioneer of Black experimental video, dies at 79
Ulysses Jenkins, the pioneering Los Angeles-born video artist whose avant-garde compositions embodied Black experimentalism, has died. He was 79.
Jenkins’ death was confirmed by his alma mater Otis College, where he studied under renowned painter and printmaker Charles White in the late 1970s and returned as an instructor years later. The Los Angeles art and design school shared a statement from the Charles White Archive, which said, “Jenkins had a profound impact on contemporary art and media practices.”
“A trailblazing figure in Black experimental video, he was widely recognized for works that used image, sound, and cultural iconography to examine representation, race, gender, ritual, history, and power,” the statement said.
A self-proclaimed “griot,” Jenkins throughout his decades-spanning career maintained an art practice grounded in the tradition of those West African oral historians who came before him. Through archival documentaries like “The Nomadics” and surrealist murals like “1848: Bandaide,” he leveraged alternative media to challenge Eurocentric representations of Black Americans in popular culture.
He was both an artist and a storyteller who sought to “reassert the history and the culture,” he told The Times in 2022. That year, the Hammer Museum presented Jenkins’ first major retrospective, “Ulysses Jenkins: Without Your Interpretation.”
“Early video art was about the problems with the media that we are still having today: the notions of truth,” Jenkins said. “To that extent, early video art was a construct that was anti-media … a critical analysis of the media that we were viewing every night.”
Born in 1946 to Los Angeles transplants from the South, Jenkins was ambivalent about the city, which offered his parents some refuge from the blatant systemic racism they encountered in their hometowns, but housed an entertainment industry that had long perpetuated anti-Black sentiment.
“What Hollywood represents, especially in my work, is the classic plantation mentality,” Jenkins told The Times in 1986. “Although people aren’t necessarily enslaved by it, people enslave themselves to it because they’re told how fantastic it is to help manifest these illusions for a corporate sponsor.”
Jenkins, who participated in a group of artists committed to spontaneous action called Studio Z, was naturally drawn to video art over Hollywood filmmaking. “I can address any issue and I don’t have to wait for [the studios’] big OK. I thought this was a land of freedom, and video allows me that freedom and opportunity that I can create for myself and at least feel that part of being an American,” he said.
Jenkins went on to deconstruct Hollywood’s vision of the Black diaspora in experimental video compositions including “Mass of Images,” which incorporates clips from D.W. Griffith’s notoriously racist “The Birth of a Nation,” and “Two-Tone Transfer,” which depicts, in Jenkins’ words, a “dreamscape in which the dreamer awakens to a visitation of three minstrels who tell the story of the development of African American stereotypes in the American entertainment industry.”
Jenkins’ legacy is not only artistic but institutional, with the luminary having held teaching appointments at UCSD and UCI, where he co-founded the digital filmmaking minor with fellow Southern California-based artists Bruce Yonemoto and Bryan Jackson.
As artist and educator Suzanne Lacy penned in her social media tribute to Jenkins, which showed him speaking to students at REDCAT in L.A., “he has been an important part of our histories here in Southern California as video and performance artists evolved their practices.”
Movie Reviews
Review | Hoppers: Pixar’s new animation is a hilarious, heartfelt animal Avatar
4/5 stars
Bounding into cinemas just in time for spring, the latest Pixar animation is a pleasingly charming tale of man vs nature, with a bit of crazy robot tech thrown in.
The star of Hoppers is Mabel Tanaka (voiced by Piper Curda), a young animal-lover leading a one-girl protest over a freeway being built through the tranquil countryside near her hometown of Beaverton.
Because the freeway is the pet project of the town’s popular mayor, Jerry (Jon Hamm), who is vying for re-election, Mabel’s protests fall on deaf ears.
Everything changes when she stumbles upon top-secret research by her biology professor, Dr Sam Fairfax (Kathy Najimy), that allows for the human consciousness to be linked to robotic animals. This lets users get up close and personal with other species.
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