Doña Herlinda and Her Son, a 1985 film by Jaime Humberto Hermosillo, is not only a funny and warm romantic comedy centered on gay characters, but it also holds the distinction of being among the first Latin American films to portray same-sex relationships in a positive light. I thoroughly enjoyed this movie and would recommend it. The story and filmmaking style are both effectively straightforward. Doña Herlinda, a wealthy widow (played with warmth and slyness by Guadalupe Del Toro), dotes on her somewhat spoiled physician son Rodolfo (Marco Antonio Trevino), who is romantically involved with a younger man, music student Ramón (Arturo Meza). When Doña Herlinda decides it's time for her son to marry—while still maintaining his relationship with his lover—she puts an ingenious plan into motion. With her approachable demeanor and seemingly innocent smile, it’s hard to suspect she is actually a clever schemer. She's even been described as a Latina Yiddishe mama! I don't want to reveal too much of the plot – I found some of the developments quite surprising – but I will say that by the film's conclusion, Doña Herlinda has brought happiness to many people... including herself. Despite the title, the film focuses more on "her son" than Doña Herlinda herself. An early scene showing Rodolfo visiting Ramón at his boarding house is both sweetly intimate and believable, revealing a deep connection between the two men. While Doña Herlinda is a larger-than-life character, it’s Rodolfo and Ramón's love that grounds the film. Hermosillo excels at including telling details about their relationship. Playfully highlighting Rodolfo's immaturity, Hermosillo includes a large poster from the action film Mad Max above his bed; and he and Ramón share intimate moments near a Star Wars action figure (Boba Fett). In a humorous touch, Doña Herlinda listens to Bach in an adjacent room while the lovers browse through a bridal catalog, smiling. Hermosillo doesn't shy away from the difficult emotions that arise when Rodolfo announces his intention to marry Olga, a woman chosen by his mother. The film explores not only Ramón’s pain and Rodolfo’s conflicted feelings but also how the two men navigate their complicated situation. A strength of the film is Hermosillo’s portrayal of Olga (Letícia Lupercio), who isn't presented as a stereotypical antagonist. She’s personable, feisty yet open-minded; she even works for Amnesty International. We see that she and Rodolfo are good friends—and late in the film, there's a lovely scene in an ice cream shop between Ramón and Olga where real healing begins to take place. Despite the film's warmth, I was struck by how many “don’t ask / don’t tell” situations it depicts, more than you might find at a US military base. It doesn’t explain why Rodolfo feels compelled to conform to societal expectations, especially given his family's financial independence. The film assumes that a man of Rodolfo’s age must marry someone of the opposite sex. A significant aspect of the story remains unaddressed: the fact that Rodolfo and Ramón are not only gay—a matter everyone seems to know (wink wink)—but represent the most loving couple in the film. Yet, despite this silence, it's not a somber or repressive film like those by Ingmar Bergman; instead, it’s colorful and sunlit Guadalajara, complete with mariachi bands and spacious homes. And although much goes unsaid, it is clear that Doña Herlinda fully accepts Ramón as another son, even suggesting he move in because her son's bedroom is so large. Later, while Rodolfo is on his honeymoon, she tries to cheer up Ramón and devises a plan which leads to the film’s ingenious resolution. There is genuine generosity of heart in Doña Herlinda, both the woman and the film—but there’s no acknowledgement that her son and Ramón are more truly “married” than Rodolfo and Olga. One reason Rodolfo and Ramón are so effective at holding the film together is their willingness to discuss their feelings and work through them; these moments are portrayed with considerable depth. They are the characters I most want to see living happily ever after. However, they never explicitly mention the social or political implications of their relationship. While it shouldn’t have been a political tract, what makes all the silences so unsettling is that they permeate and undermine an otherwise lively film. Perhaps Doña Herlinda's unspoken assumptions—including the still-relevant idea of gay "invisibility"—make it ideal for discussion with friends. I think the film would have been more effective if Rodolfo and Ramón’s love had openly acknowledged itself. That might have opened up some compelling new directions, potentially both humorous and emotionally resonant. I would have liked to see how Doña Herlinda and Olga would react to Rodolfo being openly gay. Still, we must remember that this film was historically important for its positive depiction of gay relationships. Hermosillo noted at its 1985 release that the most disturbing aspect for some audience members wasn't the sex in the film but the tenderness of the relationship between the men—something they couldn’t accept. It’s remarkable how far GLBT cinema and people have come in less than two decades. Some critics have called Doña Herlinda's filmmaking “amateurish,” a criticism I disagree with. The simplicity of the visual style, particularly the frequent use of medium shots, works well with this straightforward story. And Hermosillo is known for his creative cinematic techniques. Hermosillo, raised in Guadalajara (where he sets many of his films), began directing in the late 1960s. Most of his 26 films were produced through independent companies; Doña Herlinda was financed by Guadalupe Del Toro and co-produced by her son Guillermo (who has since directed acclaimed Hollywood films like Mimic, Blade II, The Devil's Backbone, and Pan’s Labyrinth). Hermosillo is openly gay—still uncommon in conservative Mexico—and often makes films that address same-sex issues, including 1977's La Apariencias Engañan (Deceitful Appearances). His popularity may be attributed to the sophistication he brings to his stories about the Mexican middle class, exploring their desires and fears with wit and understanding.

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