Beware of your landscaper! He might as well be a sicario coming to collect, este. The opening scene of the movie begins to deconstruct (in lack of a better word) the portrayal of Latinos in the media by deflecting the made-up interjection ese (that one) with este (this one). The passive, often anonymous landscaper, takes on the persona of a psychopath / mobster / Hannibal Lecter-like figure who mentally breaks his victim down before shooting his kneecap off. Oliver Stone's cast selection is flawless, I cannot think of a better actor for the role of Lado (Benicio del Toro), perhaps Javier Bardem, but I'm not sure he could have pulled off a conspicuous East L.A. caricaturesque accent that turns out deadly. Mr. Stone's adaptation of Don Winslow's novel of the same title (Simon & Schuster 2010) is a demystification of the drug trade which often times points fingers at those who are perceived as alien, foreign, deformed. The fact is that everyone on both sides of the equation is accountable in one way or another, they are all driven by basic desires of wealth, power, and excitement, from the bottom up, from consumer to the head of the cartel skillfully portrayed by Salma Hayek. Another common thread among the characters is the desire for revenge whether things go wrong or they feel betrayed. This visceral reaction fuels the savage instincts of all parties involved, and those who show weakness are simply disposed of. I must point out that the multilayered texture of the narration and the inclusion of alternative endings, characteristic of the postmodern novel, prove to be a little démodé. Perhaps, this malleable narration is simply a textual manifestation of a lifetime of drug abuse by O (Blake Lively), the omniscient narrator. After all the blood coagulates in the middle of the desert the question still remains: Who is responsible for pulling out those weeds, este?
