Backyard Page #2

Synopsis: An astonishing fictional account of the unending series of murders of young women in Ciudad Juarez, Mexico, which began in 1996. Most of the victims are low-paid laborers who have been drawn to the town by the possibility of work at American-owned factories. In the film Mexican police officer Blanca Bravo is sent to Cuidad Juarez to investigate and comes to learn realities of these women's lives, as well as the truth about a police force and local power structure embodied by entrepreneur Mickey Santos that has ceased to care.
Genre: Crime, Drama, Mystery
Director(s): Carlos Carrera
  9 wins & 5 nominations.
 
IMDB:
7.0
Year:
2009
122 min
60 Views


it won't happen again

Looking good, Juana.

Put on your sneakers.

- Good, how?

- In good health.

Have a seat, please.

Take these birth control pills.

To not have kids?

- Do you have a sex life?

- Of course not, Doctor!

Juana, girls change here.

They're liberated.

They make their own money and decisions,

especially with no parents around.

I'm not going to get knocked up!

That's what these are for.

Every month, you take a test.

If you're pregnant, you're fired.

OK?

Mrgara.

Set the tray down, open it,

put in the part,

then close and release...

Cold sweat means the

desert is getting to you.

That's what you get for

driving around alone.

In Veracruz, we call it dengue.

It happens, then it just goes away.

I want to check him out.

I take full responsibility.

You got it.

You were never here.

Nope. Never.

Cover me.

Whiskey. One more.

Get me a whiskey. One more.

Yes? Yes?

- Freeze!

- Hands behind your head!

Now!

Get dressed!

Stay back!

Where would I call from, a**hole?

Get dressed!

Cover up.

Stay back. Move! Get dressed.

- How old are you?

- 19.

- Serious injuries, Fierro?

- Very serious.

This is your fourth assault.

You're under arrest.

Let's go.

Mr. Governor.

The alleged serial killer

of Ciudad Jurez.

They just nabbed him?

How "alleged" is he?

The Jurez Police Chief

says he's the real deal.

- Leak it to the press.

- Correct.

- Mrgara, I gotta pee.

- Don't miss a beat.

When I say "now," let me in.

Now!

10 minutes to go, once a day.

Lunch is 10 minutes.

-Hard work, huh, Juana?

-No way.

Shift supervisor?

Your cousin says this job's for sissies.

Back home, I got up to

chop wood before dawn.

Then I made Pa breakfast,

picked corn 'til noon,

came home to feed Pa, cleaned house.

Sometimes we'd cross the river

and go to the store, remember?

But we always had to come home,

wash up, make dinner.

For your Pa.

- And here we get paid, Juana.

- For only 9 hours, Monday to Friday.

And thank God, today is...

Friday!

When did you last see Karen Rocha?

It's a simple question.

What you need is a good f***.

Somebody to wipe your ass.

Get outta here.

- You've got 2 phone calls.

- Leave, servant girl.

It's his lawyer. He says

he's got a nasty hangover.

F*** me! That broad with him

was our whole case.

- She crossed the border.

- Where to?

They don't know either.

She got cold feet and took off.

That a**hole stays in jail anyway.

Maybe then, the killing will stop.

Mickey Santos.

He owns nightclubs, gas stations, etc.

Legit?

As far as we know, squeaky clean.

He makes money in Jurez,

but he lives on the gringo side.

Makes a fortune on booze,

but he won't touch the stuff.

- Hey, are you from Oaxaca?

- No.

- Why, are you?

- Tecpatn, Oaxaca.

No way!

- No way?

- What a coincidence!

- But you're not from Oaxaca.

- No... Cintalapa, Chiapas.

Boy, that really is some coincidence.

Dummy. Cintalapa is right next to Oaxaca.

- Next to Tecpatn?

- No, next to the other side.

Do you speak Tzeltal?

- Can you?

- A little.

My grandparents taught me.

Have a beer.

What for? I'm happy with my soda.

Shall we dance?

Your sister knows the moves.

She even found a boyfriend!

That's my cousin, Mrgara.

And she didn't find a boyfriend.

She's just dancing.

What are you laughing at?

- It's different here.

- What?

-What's different?

-What's what?

- What are we talking about?

- I don't know, do you?

Come on. I'll show you.

Let's go then.

This woman's face looks familiar.

Where would you know her from?

Take a close up.

Real close.

This one too.

- She's been missing over a year.

- That can't be.

- Dead that long, her face would be disfigured.

- Maybe they had her locked up.

Where was the other one?

Here she is.

Disappeared 15 months ago.

Either they were kept captive,

or killed and preserved somehow.

- Where are the others?

- Here.

Sara.

We've perfected the funeral service.

I collect bodies, you bring mourners,

they bring crosses.

The first thing you notice about Jurez

is the extraordinary sky.

A blue that isn't just heavenly,

it's incredibly cobalt.

Then there's the 150 degree sky the ice-cold

wind seems to make bigger by the minute.

Maybe it's because of the surreal sky

we live under surreal circumstances.

A case in point:

remember that serial killer,

the one whose capture

our valiant Governor pinned

on his chest like a medal?

Well, you may recall that

after he went behind bars,

the bodies of another eight

women appeared within days,

and since then, every week another

body, like goddamn clockwork.

But incredibly enough, this

alleged serial killer is still in jail,

as if he could murder from his cell.

Or maybe he does it by...

telepathy?

I have on the line so he can explain

his magical techniques,

Mr. Abdalah Haddad,

the so-called telepathic killer.

How are they treating you in prison?

I can't complain, Mr. Peralta.

I'd like your listeners to know...

that I'm the perfect scapegoat, Sir,

because of my reputation as a

ladies' man and heavy drinker.

You also have quite a rap sheet.

Criminal records in Florida,

Texas, and Ciudad Jurez too.

Yeah, that's true.

Last I heard...

Fabricated evidence.

Yes, I cross into

Mexico every Friday.

I check the books and tell

my managers what to do.

Banks move the money, the rest

is processed by phone or Internet.

- You only visit Jurez on Fridays?

- I might have on a Thursday,

...or Monday, as an exception.

The Sultan called you from jail.

Yes, he left several messages,

but I didn't answer.

He wanted to ask you a favor.

What was it?

I didn't talk to him. I don't

know The Sultan that well.

I hired him, then fired him for the

same reason you think he's the killer.

- Which is...

- Which is that he's sick with hatred.

He hit a secretary, picture that.

I can picture him doing

something as awful

as biting off a teenager's

nipple before killing her.

You two met in jail in El Paso.

In the sex offenders' area.

That's official.

If it's official, I don't see

what your question is.

Are you familiar with the word

"rehabilitate"?

Some say there are jails where

prisoners are rehabilitated,

and jails where they're punished.

I say it depends on the prisoner,

not the prison.

I died when I went to jail,

and I rehabilitated myself there.

You know those eight

women found last month?

Three were kidnapped over a year ago.

Forensics says these women were frozen.

Frozen?

Two questions:
any idea where

they were kept frozen that long?

And how does The Sultan send

women to their graves from a jail cell?

I'll try and think of anything

I might have heard

...Haddad say that would be useful to you.

Hello? Don't be long with those copies.

- There's your boyfriend, Juana.

- He's looking good.

I'll be home late.

No. Be back early. You've got to

rest up for tomorrow.

- Hi.

- Hi.

- Did you find a job?

- Nothing so far.

I fall onto the assembly line,

then the hammer falls on my face.

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Sabina Berman

Sabina Berman Goldberg (Mexico City, August 21, 1955) is a writer and journalist. Considered to be Mexico's most critically and commercially successful contemporary playwright, Berman is one of the most prolific living writers in the Spanish language. Her work deals mainly with issues related to diversity and its obstacles. Her style tends toward humor and language, or the need to move beyond the limits of language. She is a four-time winner of the National Playwriting Award in Mexico (Premio Nacional de Dramaturgia Juan Ruiz Alarcón) and has twice won the National Journalism Award (Premio Nacional de Periodismo). Her plays have been staged in Canada, North America, Latin America, and Europe. Her novel, Me (La mujer que buceó en el corazón del mundo) has been translated into 11 languages and published in over 33 countries, including Spain, France, the United States, England, and Israel. "In her plays, there are certain constants worthy of note: a taste for humor; a mistrust of official discourse and indeed, of all discourse in general; the need to surpass both sexual limits and those that apply to literary genres." more…

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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