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    I’m Obsessed With Survival Shows. Could I Make It 10 Days in the Wilderness?

    On the first official day of my survivalism training, I realized a crucial error: I forgot to pack a spoon. I was mortified. I’d made sure to bring two knives, UV-blocking shirts, saltwater wading boots and paracord, but I had no utensil to eat with. In a low-key voice that I hope masked my embarrassment, I casually mentioned this oversight to my teacher, Amós Rodríguez.“Oh, that’s OK,” he replied cheerfully. “You can make one!” Rodríguez sprinted a few feet into the jungle, climbed a tree and bounced on a few branches to identify a limb that could be sacrificed for my purposes. Finding one, he broke it in half and tossed a segment at my feet. Our woodworking session would become my first lesson in the field. He called it the ABC’s of survival: Always Be Craftin’.He showed me a few simple techniques, and we sat down on overturned buckets to work. The sound of our knives scraping against bark was meditative. After about 15 minutes, Rodríguez had whittled his rough, splintered branch into an elegant instrument. He fished a coal from the fire and set it in the middle of the slender oval end that he’d produced, smoldering out the bowl of the spoon. It looked like something you would pay $45 for at an antiques market. My creation looked more like a drawing of a spoon, by a child who had never used one before. “Maybe,” Rodríguez observed politely, “you can use it like … a … chopstick?” It had more in common with a shovel, and because it was too big to fit in my mouth, that’s how I used it — bullying food until it reluctantly boarded the chunky head of the tool and then flinging it toward my face. That it barely worked didn’t matter: The ability to improvise, to create something out of nothing, was exhilarating in itself.Our 10-day survival intensive took place in Chetumal Bay, Mexico, and consisted of a series of skill-learning workshops — first at a small lodge and then in the field, out on a strip of land in the middle of the water. I arrived with a mix of despair and determination, tired of the alarming news notifications about everything: wildfires, school shootings, disastrous federal decisions, food recalls, extreme weather events. The constant doomerism online and the deteriorating social infrastructure offline — it all had put me into a kind of spiritual ketosis. Brushing up on my survival skills felt like one potential answer.The word “prepper” usually brings to mind a bearded white man in head-to-toe Realtree camo, anticipating the next civil war while hunkered in a bunker, surrounded by automatic weapons, pallets of Dude Wipes and dehydrated meals. But over the last few years, the idea has drifted in from the margins: People with all sorts of ideological backgrounds are making plans for confronting an uncertain future.I’ve seen the shift in my own social circles. Friends and acquaintances are securing large plots of land, getting gun licenses and training in CPR and the National Acupuncture Detoxification Association protocol, a regimen developed to help people recover from addiction. One woman I know relocated her family from Boston to New Zealand, telling me that she wanted to live in a place that was nonexistent on a geopolitical axis of influence — “a beautiful place,” she said, “to ride out the end of the world.” Late last year, a book called “A Navy Seal’s Bug-In Guide” was in heavy rotation on TikTok’s e-commerce platform; over the holidays, I spotted it at my mother’s house and flipped through its pages. One offered tips for explaining away your ownership of large quantities of canned goods: “My wife/husband just got into couponing.”We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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    Why ‘Emilia Pérez,’ a Film About Mexico, Flopped in Mexico

    The polarizing movie is up for 13 Academy Awards on Sunday. But in Mexico, it has been widely criticized for its depiction of the country.“Emilia Pérez,” the movie about a transgender Mexican cartel leader who reconciles with her past, enters the Academy Awards on Sunday with 13 nominations, the most of any film this year. It is also the most nods ever for any non-English language film. The film has already won several accolades, including best comedy or musical at the Golden Globe Awards.In Mexico, the reception has been exactly the opposite.It has been widely criticized for its depiction of the country, the minimization of the cartel violence that has ravaged so many and the few Mexicans involved in its production.Comments about Spanish by its French writer-director, Jacques Audiard, which some saw as denigrating the language, and by its lead, Karla Sofía Gascón, about Islam and George Floyd, stoked the discontent in Mexico and made matters worse.“Emilia Pérez” wasn’t released in Mexican theaters until Jan. 23 — five months after its debut in France and two months after its U.S. release. In Mexico, theaters showing the film have been largely empty. Some unhappy moviegoers have even demanded refunds.An online Mexican short film parodying the French roots of “Emilia Pérez,” on the other hand, was a hit. “Emilia Pérez” has been the fodder of many social media memes. And it has been denounced by the families of victims of violence in Mexico.“It has become a real disaster,” said Francisco Peredo Castro, a film expert and a history and communications professor at the National Autonomous University of Mexico.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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    Paquita la del Barrio, Whose Songs Empowered Women, Dies at 77

    In unflinching ballads that spoke of the pain men can cause women, the Mexican singer often relied on what she learned in her own relationships.Paquita la del Barrio, the prolific Mexican vocalist and songwriter known for her powerful feminist ballads, died on Monday at her home in Veracruz. She was 77.Paquita’s social media accounts made the announcement on Monday, but did not list a cause of death.“With deep pain and sadness we confirm the sensitive passing of our beloved ‘Paquita la del Barrio,’” the statement said in Spanish. “She was a unique and unrepeatable artist who will leave an indelible mark in the hearts of all of us who knew her and enjoyed her music.”Paquita broke through in the Mexican ranchera genre, a field typically dominated by men, demonstrated through intense songs centering on love, revenge and nationalism. Songs like “Rata de dos Patas,” “Me Saludas a la Tuya” and “Tres Veces Te Engane” denounced male macho culture and became anthems.A 1999 article in The New York Times highlighted Paquita’s place in Mexico City, where she had begun her career as a local performer, describing her as “something of a patron saint” of a place where her songs resonated.Paquita’s passing caused an outpouring of grief among celebrities and fans on social media.Alejandro Sanz, a singer and composer, wrote in Spanish that her music was “capable of capturing a feeling and turning it into a song” and that she is a “part of the eternal culture.”Thalia, a popular singer and actress, shared a scene of the pair starring on “Maria Mercedes,” a soap opera that aired on the Mexican broadcaster Televisa in 1992. Initially, Thalia expressed nervousness about sharing a stage with Paquita.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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    Silvia Pinal, Golden Age Star of Mexican Cinema, Is Dead

    She found outsize success in her native land and gained international recognition for her work with the acclaimed Spanish surrealist director Luis Buñuel.Silvia Pinal, an award-winning actress who was considered one of the great stars of Mexico’s golden age of cinema, and who earned worldwide acclaim for her work with the groundbreaking Spanish-born Surrealist director Luis Buñuel, died on Nov. 28 in Mexico City.Her death, in a hospital, was announced on social media by President Claudia Sheinbaum of Mexico, who said that Ms. Pinal’s “cinematic and theatrical talent is part of Mexico’s cultural memory.” She was generally believed to be 93, although some news reports gave her age as 94.A star of both stage and screen, the golden-haired Ms. Pinal, who collected more than 100 film and television credits in a career that began in the late 1940s, was known for balancing urbane glamour with saucy humor and sensuality.The Mexican television network Las Estrellas posted on social media that she was her country’s “last diva.” She starred with celebrated leading men like Pedro Infante, the dashing screen idol and celebrated ranchera singer; Germán Valdés, known as Tin-Tan; and the comedy heavyweight Mario Morena, known as Cantinflas.Ms. Pinal won her first of three competitive Ariel Awards — the Mexican equivalent of an Oscar — as best supporting actress for her performance in the 1952 film “Un Rincón Cerca del Cielo” (“A Corner Near Heaven”), which starred Mr. Infante as a poor man who encounters love and hardship after moving to Mexico City.The award helped vault her to lead actress status, and she enhanced her budding stardom with a sultry performance in the 1955 thriller “Un Extraño en la Escalera” (“A Stranger on the Stairs”). The next year, she teamed with Mr. Infante again in the comedy “El Inocente” (“The Innocent”), in which she played a moneyed and capricious woman who takes up with an auto mechanic.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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    María Félix and Cantinflas Star in Gems From Mexico’s Golden Age of Cinema

    A Lincoln Center retrospective puts the spotlight on midcentury movies aimed at the masses that continue to influence filmmakers.Charitable charlatans, clumsy womanizers, enigmatic dames and even a monster-fighting paladin captured the imagination of Mexico’s audiences during the mid-20th-century golden age of the country’s film industry.An era of prolific production in all genres and of stars with exclusive studio contracts, it rivaled the Hollywood system in the quality and variety of its output. Today, most homegrown Mexican productions struggle to find screens amid the ubiquitous presence of American blockbusters that entice local moviegoers.But from the mid-1930s to the late 1950s, Mexican cinema thrived partly as a consequence of American involvement in World War II. With American resources being allocated to the war effort, Mexican companies saw an opportunity to produce movies for and about their own country that could also travel to other Spanish-speaking territories.Featuring titles largely from this period, the retrospective “Spectacle Every Day: Mexican Popular Cinema” begins Friday at Film at Lincoln Center. Entertainment made for the masses, these movies often set their sights on unlikely heroes and heroines who, despite personality quirks or individual circumstances, exhibited a sturdy moral compass and unshakable pride. They (mostly) do what’s right in the end, even if human weaknesses obstruct their best intentions more than once.For several decades after their original theatrical runs, most of these films endured in the collective Mexican consciousness and continue to influence popular culture through their uninterrupted availability on broadcast TV. As a child in 1990s Mexico City, I caught fragments when visiting my grandmothers for whom the men and women then on the small screen had been larger than life in their youth.In the retrospective, Cantinflas is represented by “The Unknown Policeman” from 1941.Filmoteca UNAMWe are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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    ‘Hummingbirds’ Review: Two Friends’ Summer Along the Border

    The young directors Silvia Del Carmen Castaños and Estefanía (Beba) Contreras stargaze, watch fireworks and discuss their lives in this documentary filmed in Laredo, Texas.Filmed in the summer of 2019, the lyrical documentary “Hummingbirds” is a portrait of two friends, Silvia Del Carmen Castaños and Estefanía (Beba) Contreras, and their lives in Laredo, Texas, across the border from Mexico. When they hang out near the Rio Grande, Beba says, “I’ve never been this close to the river except when I crossed.” She jokes that they’re breathing air from another country.But “Hummingbirds” isn’t a social-issue documentary, at least not directly. First and foremost, it is interested in simply capturing Silvia and Beba’s summer vibe, as they stargaze, watch fireworks, sing together (Beba is a songwriter) and shop at the dollar store. The emphasis on chilling out might not sound surprising, given that the two of them are the movie’s directors as well as its subjects. (Silvia was 18 and Beba 21 when shooting began.) Wouldn’t they be prone to finding their every activity fascinating?
    Except that “Hummingbirds” is pretty tight filmmaking at less than 80 minutes, and the laid-back presentation makes the political commentary register strongly from the periphery. The friends’ conversations allude to struggles with poverty, deportation risk (Beba is awaiting news on a visa) and unplanned pregnancies, in addition to their complicated family lives. The closest thing to a major incident involves their defacing of a yard sign, which they edit to change “Pray to end abortion” to “Pray 4 legal abortion.” Yet in a way, the movie is all incident. The closing credits list four co-directors, which explains how Silvia and Beba could film themselves so fluidly.HummingbirdsNot rated. In English and Spanish, with subtitles. Running time: 1 hour 18 minutes. In theaters. More

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    Johnny Canales, Tejano Music Singer and TV Host, Dies

    He was known for booking new acts on his program, including Selena Quintanilla, who performed on his show in 1985 in what was one of her first live TV performances.Johnny Canales, the Mexican television host whose program introduced new musical acts to wide audiences, including a young Selena Quintanilla in the 1980s, has died. His death was announced on Thursday by his show’s Facebook account. No additional details were given. His wife, Nora Canales, said in a video update on May 20 that he had been ill. Mr. Canales was believed to be in his late 70s or early 80s, though his year of birth was unclear.For many rising acts beginning in the 1980s, to be invited to perform on Mr. Canales’s bilingual variety show was considered a milestone and a chance to gain new fans on a program that was watched by millions.Some acts that performed on his show went on to become household names. He also became a popular TV host, known for introducing performances with his catchphrase: “You got it. Take it away.”“The Johnny Canales Show” debuted on KRIS in Corpus Christi, Texas, in 1983. The program was later picked up by Univision, which expanded the show’s reach beyond South Texas.Mr. Canales had many groups and singers perform on his show over the years, including La Mafia, La Sombra, Los Temerarios and Ramon Ayala. But perhaps the one who went on to become the most popular was a teenage Selena Quintanilla, as Selena y Los Dinos, in 1985, in what was one of the singer’s first live TV performances.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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    A Life, and Death, as a Mexican Journalist Shown in Documentary

    The documentary “State of Silence,” premiering at the Tribeca Festival, uses personal stories to explain the bleak situation for journalists in Mexico.If you are going to make a documentary about danger, you have to take your camera to daring places. You have to point it at nefarious subjects, doing brazen things, and capture a level of authenticity essential for a credible film.That was the case for the crew on “State of Silence,” which explores the existential threats faced by journalists in Mexico. For the documentary’s tense opening segment, the team accompanied the reporter Jesús Medina on a nighttime search for illegal loggers cutting down trees in a remote forest in the state of Morelos. When Medina, with his camera in hand, encountered one, the unsuspecting transgressor was fully masked — and brandishing a thundering chainsaw.As Medina began his interview with the logger, the film crew was just a few steps behind, recording the scene while both men did their risky jobs, and as the journalist — no stranger to precarious assignments — de-escalated the situation into a businesslike conversation between two professionals.An illegal logger being interviewed for the film. The “State of Silence” crew accompanied the reporter Jesús Medina on a nighttime search for illegal loggers cutting down trees in a remote forest in the state of Morelos. La Corriente del GolfoThe reporter Jesús Medina.La Corriente del Golfo“Sometimes you have no other work option and you have to do this out of necessity,” the logger explained. Medina got the point, and his story gently morphed into a nuanced profile of a worker toiling to support his family, despite the hazards.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More