Interview: Diego Luna on Making Cesar Chavez

Hard as it may be to imagine for those who first came to know him through his role in Alfonso Cuarón’s Y Tu Mamá También, 34-year-old Diego Luna has been making movies since his early teens. His natural talent and charisma has been a draw for filmmakers as diverse as Gus Van Sant (Milk), Julian Schnabel (Before Night Falls), and Harmony Korine (Mister Lonely). During an interview at this year’s Berlinale, the actor, who most recently appeared in Neill Blomkamp’s Elysium, bemoaned the number of quality scripts that come to him these days, but that’s only one reason why he first chose to take the director’s chair back in 2007 with a documentary about Mexican boxer Julio César Chávez. That film was followed in 2010 with his first feature, Abel, and, now, Cesar Chavez, about the famed Mexican-American labor leader who peacefully organized workers in California in 1960s. Luna spoke with me not only about the difficulty he faced in accurately recreating that time period, and the working conditions under which men like Chavez worked, but as well as his understanding of the man’s legacy.

Is the reason why you chose this project the universality of its message?

Yes, I generally try to choose stories that do not belong to one nation or one country whatsoever. What really matters is a good story and well-written characters, even if it’s a cliché. I know I choose projects when I simply feel the necessity and the urge to film something. This time, as a team working with Cesar Chavez, we wanted to make sure to tell something that belongs to all of us, a piece of recent history, which, in the end, conveys this optimistic message: that many things can be done if you really believe it can happen. Another cliché, sorry [laughs].

How did you find this particular story, or perhaps how did it find you?

It’s interesting, because it seems that in California everyone should know Cesar Chavez, judging by the number of schools or streets that are named after him. But, in fact, the young generations have no idea. When I moved to California, I suddenly realized that there was this character, a hero, and nobody told his story before properly. Then I just decided to do it, although I soon realized how little I knew and how little has been generally known. But after all, even though Cesar Chavez tells a story of a real person, it’s not a film just about him. Our goal was to pay tribute to the whole community of Mexican Americans struggling for survival in the past and present, and, of course, to those who actively participated in the fights and boycotts back then. Simply put, we tried to use the example of Cesar Chavez as an illustration of the experience, with its complexity and challenges that were included.

Has the family of Cesar Chavez seen the completed film yet?

Of course. Helen Chavez and the family watched it, and they were with us all the way. First we showed them the script, listened to their opinions and insightful remarks, anecdotes, too, and later we did the research and lots of interviews. We asked about literally everything: their struggle, the intensity of those days, their feelings toward it, even the weather. And they patiently answered. I admired that. We had their full support.

Dolores Huerta is one of the last people who directly and closely worked with Cesar Chavez. Was it difficult approaching her, and was she willing to help from the start?

Well, let me answer this way. You always have to be careful while trying to make a film about a real person. By trying to please everyone you end up pleasing no one, including yourself. We had those words in mind when we first thought about making the film. Preparing for the movie, we interviewed a lot of people, not only family and friends of Chavez, but also random people who still remembered the events. Chavez’s actions are rather well documented, and there were many references for us, sometimes even too many. We needed all of it to prevent us from showing just one side of our main hero. After this long process, we had to concentrate and condense everything we learned, so that it fit the screen and lasted two hours [laughs]. Of course, we did the film for the family and those who took part in the boycotts. I simply can’t imagine going against their will, because it’s their story and it’s also a celebration of what they’ve achieved.

It must have been really difficult to make a movie in two languages simultaneously. You communicated with the American cast in English, and with the extras and some members of the crew in Spanish. This is also your directorial debut in English. Can you speak about the challenges that you encountered in that respect?

Well, yes, obviously it was all very complex [laughs]. But after I realized that, it also struck me that it’s something that this particular community has to deal with on a daily basis, this certain bilingualism. That’s also a part of the complexity of the story itself. We shot Cesar Chavez in Mexico, so many of the extras didn’t speak any English. In a way, it was like time travel as well, because when Cesar came to the fields to talk to the workers about the conditions of their work, many of the workers didn’t speak any English either, so he had to communicate in Spanish. Although maybe he didn’t feel most comfortable with it, it had to be done. So, in a way, we were remaking the real-life situation, although on the set we weren’t really fighting the field worker’s fight, we were fighting our own small battle.

Coming back to your question, it’s difficult to direct a film in a language that isn’t in your mother tongue, because at the end of the day it’s the little details that matter most in this job. There usually are specific differences between one thing and another, and it’s necessary to master the language to follow that richness of vocabulary and be well understood. But I think I managed to find a way. Besides, there were people to help me when I had trouble. At times I just had to force myself not to act instead of explaining what I meant [laughs].

You shot the film in the Sonoran grape fields, in the vicinity of Hermosillo, in real locations, during real heat, with no fancy trailers for the cast and crew. And there were actual people working the fields while you shot.

Yes, we didn’t pretend anything, there was actual work going on, and while we were shooting in one place, the workers would pick their grapes in the other. We had to get out of the way at times, not to disturb their work, and it could be felt that these people really depend on their harvest. We also hired people from those fields to work on the set as extras, it was like a double shift for them, in that heat and humidity. In the beginning we’d have 400 extras, but every day there would be less people coming to the set, once they saw that working in the movie business isn’t so glamorous as they show on TV or glossy magazines, and that you really have to work hard to get results you need. But those who helped us didn’t complain at all, even if it was close to 120 degrees at times. You had a sense of things really going on there in those immense fields. Those people were there, they were there now and they were there when Chavez was there too. It was really inspiring. And the conditions were really rough since we were there in the worst possible season. But without this weather, without us being there at the time, it would be impossible to recreate these conditions and those times truthfully.

Did you ever consider playing the part of Chavez yourself, maybe even casting your friend Gael García Bernal in the role?

No, from the start we knew that it had to be someone who grew up in the Mexican-American community. Neither myself nor Gael are Mexican American, so we would have had to pretend, and this is the last thing we wanted to do. It wouldn’t be honest that way. I don’t think that would be completely wrong though. It’s the movies, after all. But that’s, of course, something you explore on a later stage. When you’re talking about a community so specific, you don’t have to be entirely truthful, but at least you have to respect it and be consequent in making your choices. Why would I tell the story of a Mexican American and not want to work with one. It makes no sense [laughs].

Was Michael Peña, then, your first choice for the part?

He was definitely one of the first names we talked about, but I saw probably around 5000 actors and non-actors. We put an open call and people could send their videos or meet us in person. Initially I thought that the community as a whole was currently not doing many films, so maybe there are not too many trained actors. Then I asked the casting director to go to some local radio stations and theater teachers in schools, to find those who weren’t working professionally. And after months of searching we ended up working with Michael, because he did an amazing job with the auditions. And it turned out to be the perfect choice.

You’ve worked with many great directors during your acting career. Have they given you any lessons or tips about directing?

One of them just told me that “no one else knows better than you,” and that was the most important lesson that I follow [laughs]. And confidence, that’s crucial in this job. I noticed that many directors I had a pleasure of working with, like Alfonso Cuarón or Gus Van Sant, they precisely know what kind of film they want to make, and they execute it perfectly. That doesn’t mean they don’t listen to suggestions and other ideas. Basically it’s all about maintaining the right balance between listening and knowing what’s right. I don’t think there’s a method of directing, or a shortcut. You definitely need to recognize that unique moment when the machine is ready to go. When there’s the pre-production process, there’s also time to decide on your options and choices. It’s about making one choice after another, and when that’s started there’s no end to it until there is finally time to deliver the completed film. And that’s the moment when you have to be strict and have no more doubts even though your guts tell you that there might be something else you could have done.

When I’m thinking about directing, I have this stereotypical Mexican director of the 1940s and 1950s in mind: smoking a big cigar, sitting in this huge chair of his, with an enormous gun beside him, like Emilio “El Indio” Fernandez used to do. I’m not this kind of director, and I haven’t worked with anyone like that either, but the image appeals to me [laughs].

Your first feature film, Abel, was about a very specific and an intriguing connection between a father and a son. Cesar Chavez is also about relationships inside a family. Would you consider it a kind of leitmotif in your creative work?

Yes, actually. It really seems that I always end up talking about the relations of fathers and sons, because my own relationship with my father is a very specific one, a true bond. I lost my mother when I was two, so the presence of my father was always a really strong and influential one. So, obviously, when I look at someone’s life from a distance, my first approach is the relation they have with their parents and how it defines them in a way. I guess if I make any film now, there will surely be a father and a son and I will certainly devote some time to discovering their relationship. That’s for sure. I don’t think I will ever be able to get out of this box [laughs].

Have you already decided on what do you prefer: acting or directing? Or would you prefer to keep mixing it up?

I think mixing it is the right way to go for me. Still, today I live from the work as an actor and I enjoy it a lot. The thing is, however, that I’m in a point of my career right now where I don’t get too many serious opportunities to read a fascinating script that’s completely different from what I’ve done so far. So, unless someone calls me right know offering me something thrilling and different, I’ll be concentrating on my work as a director.