Let’s suppose a gourmet Mexican meal were wrapped up in Taco Bell take-out containers and fed to a dozen random folks. It’s reasonable to assume at least eight would instantly realize they were not eating terrible fast food, but something better, purposefully concealed. The other four, on the other hand, might just accept what’s before them and say, “Damn, Taco Bell has gotten really good at making enchiladas.”
OK, perhaps an extended Mexican food analogy is too obtuse, but Machete is that gourmet enchilada in a Taco Bell container. In constructing an homage to exploitation films of the 1970s, it replicates its subjects’ outrageously severe presentation of serious issues, illegal immigration in this instance. Machete could be no more didactically inflammatory; in it, white politicians are satanic figures and the Mexican aliens they’re fighting against are free, beautiful revolutionaries.
For those familiar with the blaxploitation and grindhouse films that writers Robert and Álvaro Rodriguez are referencing, the movie is superfluous bliss, start to finish. This is easily the best constructed and most consistently entertaining film Robert, who also fills his usual roles of directing and editing, has ever made. I personally loved it. But I also believe that films must be socially responsible and consider their potentially dangerous cultural implications, even when it isn’t their fault some viewers don’t “get” it.
What I mean is, it’s clear that some viewers, particularly in the young Latino community, will take Machete not as a send-up to a genre, but as a celebration of violent activism. With the heated battle over immigration currently taking place, with both sides ready to trivialize each other, Machete is the poster-child for a film that will be misinterpreted and used as propaganda. Its idealness for this purpose not only came across to me as I watched it, but it was evidenced around me, with many fellow audience members cheering the violent protagonist on in his anti-white rampage. Some may disagree that the movie bears any responsibility for its unintended effects, but I’m skeptical. Yeah, I had a lot of fun watching it, but does its accessibility come at a cost?
That’s not to say that all art should be self-censoring because it may lead wackos to do crazy things. Some of the best films made have featured intentionally offensive, provocative material; this is often an artistic necessity. But the problem in Machete’s case is that the reward for the risk is so minor. While the movie is a supremely well-done mock-up of the B-movie genre, it doesn’t have anything powerful to say to compensate for those it may mislead. Certainly, there is a chance that those who don’t “get” the joke won’t, in fact, illogically leap to the conclusion that it is indeed a rallying cry for a “brown” revolution in America, in which case the enjoyment of those in on the joke will come at no expense. But with such a volatile issue, I think there’s reason to fear. Not to mention, the diehard anti-immigration movement’s potential reaction to the film is just as worrisome as their opposition’s; they may be even more likely to view Machete as a call to arms and then dumbly deem it representative of the views of all Mexican-Americans.
But because Machete is out there and I certainly would not advocate any kind of authoritative censorship, I will let you make your own decisions about its social implications. What I can talk about objectively is the movie’s supreme skill and entertainment value.
Danny Trejo, in perhaps his most commanding performance ever, reprises his role from a fake trailer in Rodriguez’ Grindhouse and runs wild with it. He’s the title Machete, an ex-Federale who escapes to the United States and pretends to be a day laborer after his plot to bust a dangerous Mexican drug-lord (Steven Seagal!) goes awry. In America, he just so happens to be hired by a mysterious businessman (Jeff Fahey) to assassinate an anti-immigrant senator (Robert De Niro) for $150,000. Machete expresses no reservations in accepting the job, giving the payout to the leader of “The Network” (Michelle Rodriguez), a secret organization that helps Mexicans cross the border. But just when he’s about to pull the trigger, Machete is shot himself and a hidden gunman puts a bullet in the senator’s leg. Machete was clearly a pawn. The man who put him up to the job was actually in the senator’s camp and he wanted Machete to become the violent face of illegal immigration, allowing the Senator to surge in the polls. But our hero is too sly to let that happen, escaping despite his wound and then seeking vengeance against the campaign, which is representative of a white America that just wants to keep the brown man down. Jessica Alba, Lindsay Lohan, and Cheech Marin all pop up along the way to lend spice.
Trejo is downright magnetic, giving the character the same campy force as Richard Roundtree did for Shaft. This is hardly even a winking performance; in fact, it’s dead serious, relying on the movie as a whole to do the winking. I can’t think of anyone but Trejo pulling it off, with his scary, tough-guy image and workmanlike presence. And even better is the fact that he’s matched by the rest of the cast, which fit the established prototypes of their roles perfectly. Alba is just as hot as she is the person you’d least expect to play an ICE agent, and that’s pretty much what the part called for. Lohan, in a near-tragic turn, pretty much plays her pre-recovery self: the drug-addled, webcam-broadcasting daughter of a corrupt drug trafficker. It’s hard to believe De Niro is in the movie at all, which is by itself enough to make him consistently interesting. Michelle Rodriguez mostly just stands around and looks pretty, with the big payoff being a seemingly endless shot of her midriff in the third act. And Cheech Marin fulfills the role of the comedian who’s so washed up he must resort to awkwardly delivering a serious performance… how’s that for Meta?
But even more than Machete is an actor’s movie, it’s Rodriguez’ movie. Often referred to as Hollywood’s handyman, essentially making home movies with big stars that play in a lot of theaters, Rodriguez embraces his reputation and makes a self-aware extravaganza. Sure, Rodriguez had a studio to please, but his independent approach is about as close to that of the subject exploitation films as any mainstream film will ever come. And boy does he take advantage of this, making Machete as much of a Mexploitation flick as possible. Just when you think the movie can’t up the ante any more as it moves into the third act—after a dozen crazy jump-cut sequences and huge explosions and more—then come the low-riders and a balls-to-the-walls finale that embarrass everything that’s come before. Those viewers on Rodriguez’ wavelength will marvel, “What was he thinking!?” in the best possible way, over and over. I’ve called the guy an amateur many times in the past, but somehow in making the most amateur-seeming of all his movies, Rodriguez has crafted his most accomplished, stimulating piece of art to date.
Hopefully the dramatic turn from skepticism to praise seen in this review will highlight the dilemma that Machete presents me. Usually, I don’t like most critics’ tendency to see themselves as smarter and more culturally aware than the average viewer, but in this case, I feel that I am. If I were the only one watching Machete, I’d have no problem writing my glowing response without any caveats. But I’m honestly concerned about the emotions the movie may rile up, in private even more so than in public. Then again, only when movies do said riling are we reminded that the art form is alive and well, so at least I can take comfort in that.
Rating taking cultural responsibility into account: 
Rating throwing caution to the wind: 
* * *
Machete (2010, USA). Produced by Elizabeth Avellan, Alan Bernon, Alistair Burlingham, Dominic Cancilla, Jerry Fruchtman, Peter Fruchtman, Jack Gilardi Jr., Anthony Gudas, Aaron Kaufman, Myles Nestel, Iliana Nikolic, Darby Parker, Tom Proper, Steve Robbins, Robert Rodriguez, Rick Schwartz, and Quentin Tarantino. Directed by Robert Rodriguez and Ethan Maniquis. Written for the screen by Robert Rodriguez and Álvaro Rodríguez. Starring Danny Trejo, Robert De Niro, Jessica Alba, Steven Seagal, Michelle Rodriguez, Jeff Fahey, Cheech Marin, and Lindsay Lohan. Distributed by 20th Century Fox. Rated R, with a running time of 105 minutes.
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