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Crossing Borders

March 08, 2009|Reed Johnson

NEW YORK — In the shattered calm of the Mexican night, sitting atop a railroad tanker car, Cary Joji Fukunaga didn't yet know that a man was being murdered. But he'd heard the screams, gunshots and shouts in Spanish of "Bandits!" and he was bracing to make a run for it, if need be.

It was summer 2005, and Fukunaga was researching the screenplay for his first feature film, "Sin Nombre," the harrowing but uplifting saga of a Honduran girl and a Mexican ex-gang banger trying to train-hop illegally into the United States.

Most aspiring auteurs probably would've drafted that story while safely ensconced in their Brooklyn brownstone or Santa Monica dingbat. But Fukunaga, a 31-year-old Oakland native who writes and directs movies as if he were practicing an extreme sport (he once dreamed of being a pro snowboarder) insisted on experiencing firsthand the hazards and terrors confronted by tens of thousands of economic refugees from south of the border every year.

So he set off for southern Mexico to ride the rails for several weeks, braving foul weather, marauding thugs and the constant danger of falling off and being swept under the trains' limb-severing wheels. "It felt like being a hobo in the '30s," he says, hunching his slender, 6-foot-plus frame behind a metal desk in the NoHo offices of Focus Features.

In the process, Fukunaga, who grew up in Northern California but has lived in New York for the last 7 1/2 years, has crafted a significant new addition to the growing corpus of movies dealing with the Latin American immigrant experience, including Gregory Nava's "El Norte" (1983), Joshua Marston's "Maria Full of Grace" (2004) and Patricia Riggen's 2008 film "La Misma Luna" ("Under the Same Moon").

Such movies, of course, have special resonance in Los Angeles, the nation's largest Spanish-speaking metropolis, where "Sin Nombre" (which translates as "Nameless") will open in theaters March 20. Its arrival has been preceded by a flurry of standing ovations at January's Sundance Film Festival, where it won awards for directing and cinematography, plus critical hosannas.

"A big new talent arrives on the scene with 'Sin nombre,' " proclaimed Variety's Todd McCarthy. "Fukunaga's enthralling feature debut takes viewers into a shadow world inhabited by many but noticed by very few."

Indeed, the movie's title refers to the relative anonymity of the millions of migrants, legal and illegal, who come to work in the United States.

But in "Sin Nombre," some highly memorable names, faces and personalities are attached to those desperate travelers, particularly the main characters: Sayra, a young Tegucigalpa native hoping to unite with her absentee father's "second family" in the New York area, and Willy, a Mexican outcast former member of the vicious, tattooed Mara Salvatrucha gang. Yoked by fate, they must make their way up Mexico's Gulf Coast and to the United States, where Sayra has waiting relatives and Willy has a slim shot at redemption.

During his research and subsequent filming in Mexico, Fukunaga met scores of such trekkers. One time, his train stopped in the middle of nowhere in pitch blackness and robbers attacked some of the passengers. Fukunaga later learned that the robbers had killed a Guatemalan boy who'd refused to cough up his meager savings.

He also met a Honduran man who made about $3 a day in a country where milk costs $1.

"Why is he going to the United States?" Fukunaga asks rhetorically. "It's not because he thinks our streets are paved with gold, it's not because he thinks life's going to be roses and flowers and hearts in the United States. It's because that's where he can make $13 an hour doing construction or something else and send most of it back" to his family.

Issues of immigration and identity cut deep in Fukunaga's own complex character. "What is Cary?" is the question Hollywood speculators and puzzled journalists most often put to "Sin Nombre" producer Amy Kaufman. Who's this guy with the gently probing gaze and Greyhound bus hair who speaks fluent French and Spanish and looks vaguely like Keanu Reeves' brainy kid brother? A superficially laid-back dude who is, he admits, "definitely Type A underneath it all."

The facile answer is that he's a wandering spirit with a Japanese father, a Swedish mother, a Chicano stepdad and an Argentine stepmom. Yet, like "Sin Nombre," a daring mash-up of love story, action thriller and starkly realistic semi-documentary, Fukunaga can't be reduced to the sum of his parts, ethnic or otherwise.

Growing up, he shuffled from the suburbs to the country to the barrio ("Crips and Bloods, people getting shot") to the East Bay's hillside bourgeois enclaves.

His family, he says, always has been a "conglomeration of individual, sort of displaced people," recombinations of relatives and step-relatives, blood kin and surrogate kin, parents and what he calls "pseudo-parents" who treated him like a son.

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