Blue Miracle: A heart-warming catch

Blue Miracle (2021) • View trailer

3.5 stars (out of five). Rated PG-13, for brief violence and mild dramatic intensity

Available via: Netflix

By Derrick Bang

As the years pass, I realize that the world is laden with real-life inspirational sagas, just waiting to be found. And shared.

 

While Geco (Anthony Gonzalez, far left) and Omar (Jimmy Gonzalez, far right) watch
apprehensively, Malloy (Dennis Quaid) hastily shows Moco (Miguel Angel Garcia) how
to hold the pole and "play" the line, while trying to land the marlin that has just been hooked.

This is another profoundly uplifting one. Pair it with Dream Horse, and you’ve got a sensational double-feature.

Director/co-scripter Julio Quintana’s Blue Miracle is aptly titled, given its depiction of actual events that only can be described as miraculous. Granted, we know where this story is going — otherwise, the movie certainly wouldn’t exist — but that doesn’t minimize the heartwarming journey.

 

The time is late summer 2014, the setting the Casa Hogar Orphanage in Cabo San Lucas, which houses roughly 40 orphans and runaway boys who’d otherwise be living rough — and likely dying — on the streets. The place is managed by dedicated “foster parents” Omar and Becca Venegas (Jimmy Gonzales and Fernanda Urrejola), who’ve relied on donations to maintain their six-year-old operation.

 

The place is rowdy and humble, but the atmosphere is warm and caring. Omar insists that the boys call him “Papa Omar,” and most are cheerfully willing to oblige. Becca, in turn, works miracles with three shoestring-budget meals each day.

 

But funds and donations have evaporated, and Omar has been dodging calls from the bank; foreclosure seems imminent, which is beyond horrifying. What will happen to all the boys?

 

Adding insult to injury, Hurricane Odile abruptly changes course and slams into Mexico’s southern Baja California peninsula, flooding and severely damaging the orphanage. Now needing additional money for repairs, the situation appears hopeless.

 

On an entirely different scale, the hurricane has depleted entries for the annual three-day, big-money Bisbee’s Black & Blue Marlin Tournament, which has taken place in Cabo every October since 1981. More than 150 teams usually pay $5,000 to enter what is regarded as one of the world’s most prestigious sport fishing competitions, with winners angling for millions in prize money.

 

(Although Quintana and co-writer Chris Dowling don’t take anything approaching a strident tone regarding the disparity between the cash-strapped Casa Hogar Orphanage, and the obscenely wealthy international visitors who arrive with their luxurious sport fishing boats, the contrast is impossible to miss.)

Coco: A tasty treat

Coco (2017) • View trailer 
4.5 stars. Rated PG, for no particular reason
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 11.22.17

This one’s deceptive.

At first blush, Pixar’s Coco feels like the saga of a little boy who desperately wants to embrace melody and song, but is thwarted by parents and relatives with a deeply rooted aversion to music.

As his faithful dog Dante watches attentively, Miguel prepares to receive a blessing from
his long-deceased Mamá Imelda: a necessary ritual, lest the boy be forced to remain
forever in the Land of the Dead. Alas, the blessing will come with strings attached...

That’s accurate enough, but merely the entry point to this wildly imaginative, gloriously colorful and unexpectedly poignant saga of family bonds. Co-directors Lee Unkrich and Adrian Molina — who also co-scripted the story, alongside Jason Katz and Matthew Aldrich — have ingeniously employed Mexico’s annual Día de los Muertos (Day of the Dead) celebration to illustrate the importance of honoring — and remembering — past generations.

The narrative takes place during a single fast-paced day and night, and is laden with gentle messages that range from To Thine Own Self Be True, to There’s No Place Like Home.

In the tradition of Pixar’s best films, the tone veers between droll comedy and heartbreaking pathos, and from larkish excitement to edge-of-the-seat suspense. At the same time, we’re dazzled by the animated equivalent of phenomenal production design, and charmed by some cleverly integrated songs, including an endearing ballad written by Kristen Anderson-Lopez and Robert Lopez, the Academy Award-winning team behind the power anthem “Let It Go,” from Frozen.

The rather complex narrative defies an elevator pitch, and opens with a prologue that cleverly establishes back-story via Día de los Muertos paper-cut flags. We then meet 12-year-old Miguel (voiced with earnest sincerity by young Anthony Gonzalez), who chafes at the limitations imposed by a jovial clan of shoemakers.

This family business has become the pride of Santa Cecilia: a calling that began with Miguel’s great-great-grandmother Mamá Imelda, as a means of survival when her husband abandoned the family — including toddler daughter Coco — in order to follow his dream of becoming a famous musician. Mamá Imelda’s subsequent ban on music has been enforced strictly by subsequent generations, much to Miguel’s dismay.

He dreams of growing up to be a celebrated musician like his idol, Ernesto de la Cruz, who became the most famous musician in Mexican history: conquering pop charts, movies and concert stages.

But thanks to the disciplinarian edicts of his grandmother Abuelita (Renée Victor), the frustrated Miguel believes that he’s backed into an either/or corner: He must choose between his passion for music, and his love for his family. Efforts at persuasion merely harden Abuelita’s position, and so Miguel — having accidentally stumbled upon a family secret — yields to an ill-advised impulse, as night falls on Día de los Muertos.