The Other Conquest

Topiltzin about to offer his codex to the Mother Goddess: "Tonantzin, here is our breath, the word of our ancestors... our lasting heritage."

Even though this scene did not make it into the final cut, I like this photograph because Damián seems to be in tune with the ancient solar clock, which still bears the blood of the life-death Aztec warrior whom the Spaniards nailed with a flag. The notion of a stone that has witnessed history reminds me of the monolith in "2001, A Space Odyssey". When the Spaniards come across the solar clock in The Other Conquest, Friar Diego touches it full of curiosity, like the apes do in Kubrick's film.

A defiant Tecuichpo (Emperor Moctezuma's daughter) confronts Hernando Cortés when Captain Cristóbal decides to intensify Topiltzin's punishment by switching from the leather whip to the chain. "So you won't do anything? You gave me your word! I thought you were more of a man than this." I wanted the memory of the deceased Emperor Moctezuma to be a part of this intense scene between Cortés and Tecuichpo, who stands up to the Conqueror in a way her father never did. The colorful object you see between Cortés and Tecuichpo is Moctezuma's famous headdress, made of precious long, iridescent quetzal feathers, which Cortés keeps as a trophy in his Hall of Weapons. Tecuichpo is wearing a beautiful dress with the same color pattern as the headdress, and Cortés is wearing the legendary armor with gold ornaments that his main allies during the Conquest, the Tlaxcalteca Indians, gave to him. Elpidia and Iñaki were so immersed in their roles as Tecuichpo/Doña Isabel and Cortés, that at first they found it a bit trying to get along off-camera. The truth is that the film benefited from this otherwise awkward situation, because every time they share the frame one feels the sparks, the underlying tension and powerful chemistry of human incompatibility –the sort that must have led the historical Cortés to get rid of the pregnant Tecuichpo and substitute her for his Spanish wife, Doña Juana de Zúñiga (played in the film by Diana Bracho).

In response to Friar Diego's plea for mercy during Topiltzin's rite of conversion, Captain Cristóbal decides to burn the Indian's feet. This act of brutality has strong connotations for us Mexicans because of a famous historical passage in which the last Aztec emperor, Cuauhtemoc , who was married to Tecuichpo, had his feet burned by the Spaniards so he would reveal where the Aztec treasures lay hidden. This anecdote is so much a part of Mexican mythology that in many ways it fails to have the impact it should have. That is why I decided to film this torture in a realistic way, so that audiences would experience it as if it were the first time they ever confronted it and would thus be deeply affected by it. Whenever this moment arrives in the film, people cringe, scream, turn away… or are enthralled by it. Something bizarre I had to do was to go through a casting of feet in order to choose the stuntman for the close-ups.

Topiltzin has a hallucination in which he sees himself as an Aztec high-priest about to sacrifice the statue of the Virgin Mary. He is surrounded by the women whom he loses throughout the film: from left to right, his grandmother Nanahuatzin, the princess Xilonen, the converted Indian nun, and a pregnant Tecuichpo. In his hallucination, he finds himself incapable of tearing the Virgin's heart out, for she metamorphoses into his own Mother Goddess Tonantzin. This "absolved vision" gives him a sense of purpose: the Virgin Mary and Tonantzin are one and the same; therefore, if he conquers Mary, he will regain Tonantzin. That is his "other conquest". I believe the spirit of Topiltzin’s quest is the reason why the patron saint of Mexico and the rest of America (the continent) is the Virgin of Guadalupe... -an Indigenous Virgin Mary.

Friar Diego de La Coruña and Topiltzin in a moment of shared solitude inside Topiltzin's cell at the Monastery of Our Lady of Light. "You and I, deep inside, share the same belief, Friar Diego, even though we come from different worlds. We live in all times and in all places... That is why we don’t mind being locked up here –the two of us." My wife Andrea took this photograph of Damián and José Carlos between takes, which I think speaks volumes of the degree of involvement and concentration of these two extraordinary Mexican actors.

Like a reptile crawling out of the earth's womb, Topiltzin climbs the pyramid to escape the massacre of nobles at the Great Temple. I am particularly fond of this photograph because this was the first shot I ever directed on a 35mm feature film. It was August 10, 1992 (the film was shot in two parts, one in '92 and the other in '95), it was very cold that night, and in many ways it felt as if we were reliving that fateful day which changed the course of Mexican history. This labyrinthine pyramid (Tenayuca) is situated in the heart of Mexico City. For any of the shots that compose this opening sequence of the film, if the camera were moved an inch in any direction, you would see phone cables, a marketplace, buses, etc.

Topiltzin the hero, the warrior, the mud-man, the tlahcuilo (sacred scribe/painter), the unrecognized symbol of a nation. What is he thinking of? No one knows, not even Damián (I asked him). This photograph is the perfect metaphor for one of the main themes of The Other Conquest, which partly reflects the Latino experience in the US: Do we have to choose between two worlds, or can we merge them?

Topiltzin wears facial and corporal make-up made out of clay mixed with the blood from the corpse under which he hid to survive the Massacre of the Great Temple. At the end of that unforgettable first day of shooting, our wonderful make-up artist, Sergio Espinosa, came up to me and said, "That's it, I quit; I can already see this will be an insane shoot." "-Which is precisely why I'm counting on you," I replied. Sergio became one of the fundamental collaborators of this film: a gifted artist and loyal friend whom I will always treasure. He died last year before the film was finished. Wherever you are now, Sergio, and assuming you can log on... ¡Tlazocahmati!

In contrast to the previous photograph, here we see the loving, almost maternal tenderness in the way Doña Isabel looks at Topiltzin. Whether they are or not in truth siblings is subject to interpretation. Some people believe they are and some people don't, arguing that she only made that up in order for Cortés to save his life. I prefer to think they are, especially in terms of the love scene, for it then rises above the taboo of incest (even among the Aztecs) and becomes wholly life-asserting. "We are made of one piece..." she says. "Tecuichpo, the survival of our blood depends on us," Topiltzin reassures.

The Indian nun has just given Topiltzin a Medieval cure (Mexican-style) for his hallucinatory fevers: chimicules, those lovely little pink worms we see in the film wriggling up and down Topiltzin's back. When we were done with the scene, the local guards of the Monastery called me into the room next door. They had cooked the chimicuiles for me; meaning, they poured the living creatures into a pool of boiling oil from which I was to pick them up with a tortilla and relish them. All eyes were on me and I realized this was a rite of passage. The truth is the chimicuiles proved to be delicious, but even more significant was the fact that, from then on, the guards somewhat loosened their tight reins on us. The medallion that the Indian nun is wearing is a fine example of Mexican feather pictures (amantecayotl), an art form prized above all others. Seeing the icon of the Virgin Mary in the medallion catapults Topiltzin's delirium, and a stream of hallucinations follows. He desperately reaches out to grab hold of something... Of reason leaving his head? Of all that the Conquest has deprived him of? Or of a faint glow of faith coming his way? "Holy Mother! Into your hands I give up my body! But my spirit, never."

My first shot, my first day of shooting, my first time behind a 35mm camera (a Panaflex). I am looking at Topiltzin climbing the pyramid, and I am asking him to do it closer to the edge of the pyramid and to make a pause, an iguana-like motion, which he emulates near the end of the film when he escapes from his cell at the monastery. This was one of the few occasions where I actually got close to the camera. In general I prefer to compose the shots from the video assist, and then to be as close as possible to the actors so as to talk to them on a one-to-one basis.

Diego Velázquez
“Christ after the Flagellation”

Diego Rivera
“Nude with Calla Lilies”

Leonardo Da Vinci
“Saint John the Baptist”