Gigi saul guerrero bikini11/5/2023 ![]() However, this recognisable shorthand emphasises the cost that dreaming exacts, rendering a grim outcome where the border becomes a site of rape, abuse and exploitation. Perhaps predictably, Culture Shock plays with the binary of the dirty, underdeveloped south and the idealised sense of northern wealth. Importantly, the vibrant and gory universe around her creative endeavours is undetachable from Mexican cultural references and idiosyncrasies, providing a reflection around identity, nationality and their negotiations in fraught contexts of trauma and displacement, often featuring the border as a place of permeability that allows for such negotiation. Since then, her directorial and narrative voice has transcended the short film format and transitioned to series ( La Quinceañera, 2018) and soon, into a second feature produced by Eli Roth ( 10-31, currently in pre-production). The Mexican-Canadian director, writer, actress and producer founded Luchagore Productions alongside Luke Bramley and Raynor Shimabukuro in 2013. This is Culture Shock (2019), first full-length, bilingual feature by Gigi Saul Guerrero, part of Hulu and Blumhouse’s anthology Into the dark. In their words, this induced numbness is a “charitable” alternative that keeps the immigrants “out of the American dream.” Eventually, and in an undisputed exercise of agency, Marisol manages to circumvent her hi-tech induced state, as the 4 th of July extends with fire cracking glory and she goes into labour on the slab, rocking the simulation and breaking the hallucination to set the rest of her companions free. “It’s amazing what the human body can accomplish if we give it no other choice,” quips Attwood (Creed Bratton) to his assistant Thomas (Shawn Ashmore) as they contemplate the real state of Marisol, still pregnant, defenceless while she’s kept in this lysergic virtual loop. In reality, the people in this flawless town are tied to slabs, kept as guinea pigs in an anonymous laboratory. Identity and cultural resistance, coded as undesirable difference by way of discriminatory political discourse, here function as a tether to reality as they discover that this mirage is a carefully crafted virtual display. Singing the Mexican national anthem, Marisol tries to awaken Ricky reciting a Santa Muerte devotional prayer, she manages to make Santo remember who he is. Ricky and Santo seem to have forgotten who they are, clad in new appearances and new, robot-like mannerisms. Brogues, smiling neighbours, beautiful landscapes. Progressively, the town becomes a grotesque exaggeration of abundance, righteousness and white bread status quo, a sinister Groundhog Day. ![]() Soon enough, the US anthem is played on the speakers, and a piercing sound announces an imminent blackout ––next day begins with a jolt. Before her, the US is the land of plenty, welcoming of diversity but eerily perfect. “So many paisanos,” she expresses in disbelief ––despite of her white passing demeanour, fitting this already whitening fantasy. Her newborn baby slumbers in the stroller, neighbours in pastel outfits wave and smile beneath the streamers of small US flags garnishing the streets. As Betty and Marisol stroll with the baby through an impeccable suburban landscape in the eve of the 4 th of July, the dirt roads that saw Marisol’s traumatic border crossing have become well-manicured green lawns bathed in golden sunlight. She hears herself speaking perfect English, a skill that seems to have appeared by magic. In a blurry wink, her baby has been born and she wakes up clad in a neat yellow dress with matching brogues. Her companions, Guatemalan boy Ricky (Ian Íñigo) and hardened Santa Muerte devotee Santo (Richard Cabral), have disappeared. The eyes we’ve borrowed are Marisol’s (Martha Higareda), a Mexican woman whose second attempt at crossing the Mexico-US border seems to finally find a happy ending. “Just one more push… It’s a beautiful baby girl!” chuckles Crampton while we are immersed in a subjective shot. Screams and muffled feedback enfold her sweet, yet jarring whisper. “Keep breathing, just like that,” whispers a blurry, steely eyed Betty (Barbara Crampton). 1 WIHM-La Jaula de Oro (The Gilded Cage): The Political Possibilities of Gigi Saul Guerrero’s Border Horror.
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