MOVIE OF THE DAY: "DOS MONJES" (1934)

It's a plot as old as plots can be: two men in love with the same woman. But let's give it  a twist by telling the story twice from the viewpoints of the men themselves. 

OK, that's a start. Now let's do it with the framing device of the men meeting again after several years apart. Nice. 

Even nicer? Both are now monks in a cavernous monastery. And of them has just undergone an exorcism. Yes! 

Just by that description, you'd probably have guessed that Dos Monjes didn't come from any of the Hollywood studios in 1934. And in case you forgot your high school Spanish (or, in my case, never knew it all), the title translates to Two Monks. But you probably figured that out by the third paragraph.

The Monastery of Friar Calagari.

Dos Monjes is, in fact, a Mexican production, although director Juan Bustillo Oro was clearly influenced by 1920s German expressionistic releases like The Cabinet of Dr. Calagari and Dr. Mabuse The Gambler, among others, giving the monastery scenes a vibe that ping-pongs from spooky to nightmarish. Which, frankly, is my perspective on religion, anyway.

"Gimme a break! I was possessed, alright?"

The first ten minutes of Dos Monjes promise a completely different kind of movie than what follows. Having been exorcised of his demons, Javier is urged to speak to Juan, a new member of the monastery. Javier, apparently under the spell once more of Satan, strikes Juan on the skull with a large crucifix. Seeking forgiveness, Javier explains to the Prior just why he behaved as he did.

Every New Yorker wants a bedroom like Juan's.

Back in the day, Javier was once, in the words of a nasty neighbor, a "consumptive musician" (tuberculosis being the go-to disease for romantic dramas. It's since been replaced by cancer in teen-oriented novels and movies). Javier and his mother take in Anita, the daughter of the nasty neighbor, who has been thrown out of the house for rejecting a wealthy suitor. Why do these chicks always fall for the sick instead of the rich?

Juan pulls the classic chess move:
knight checks chump.

Between coughing fits, Javier falls in love with Anita, and is delighted to introduce her to his best friend, Juan, who has arrived after a two-year trip abroad. Juan, who has promised to subsidize Javier's music career, appears to want Anita in return. No such thing as ars gratia artis here.

Javier, naif that he is, is shocked when, returning home unexpectedly one evening, finds Juan pawing Anita like a horny cougar. Overcome with anger, Javier pulls a gun on his so-called friend, only to accidentally shoot Anita instead. That's what friends are for!

"I'm in white. Now will run away with me?"

Well, that certainly seems to tie things up nicely... until Juan gives his side of the
story. We then see key scenes a second time, only from an entirely different perspective. And what appeared to be a rather simple case of unrequited love gone wrong becomes a bit more complicated, right down to the color of their clothes. In Javier's mind, he's dressed in white while Javier is in bad guy black, while Juan's memory is the opposite. Kellyanne Conway would call it alternative facts.

Wurlitzer of the damned.

Juan's appearance at the monastery is ultimately too much for Javier to handle. Running to the chapel organ, he plays the love song meant for Anita, before dying in the throes of terrifying hallucinations. All this, because of a dame. Sheesh!

As good as the opening section is, I was tempted to switch off Dos Monjes during Javier's flashback. What had started with bizarre, discomforting imagery suddenly switched to pure hokum, with the acting going the way of a B-movie romance. 

Santa cachucha!

It was only during Juan's flashback that it became clear what seemed to be hokum was in fact his overly-romantic view of the events -- just as what we see in the chapel is his own deranged perception of his surroundings. 

Love, a friend's apparent disloyalty, and TB can do mighty strange things to a man. They can also make for a fine, unexpected movie like Dos Monjes.

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