Julián Hernández | El Día comenzó ayer (The Day Began Yesterday) / 2020

gay sex returns to cinema

by Douglas Messerli

 

Ulises Pérez Mancilla and Julián Hernández (screenplay, based on a work by Saúl Sánchez Lovera), Julián Hernández (director) El Día comenzó ayer (The Day Began Yesterday) / 2020 [31 minutes]

 

Julián Hernández’s El Día comenzó ayer (The Day Began Yesterday) has to be the best film about HIV positive gays ever produced. Notice I did not say that this was the best film about AIDS, which we would have award to works such as Arthur J. Bressan’s 1985 film Buddies, Bill Sherwood’s Parting Glances of 1986, or Norman René’s Longtime Companion of 1989; indeed, I’d rank them in that order, not that ranking movies is of much interest to me.

     For the last couple of decades Hernández and his fellow Mexican director Roberto Fiesco (who co-produced this film) have been making some of the most remarkable LGBTQ films of today, so perhaps it should come of no surprise that this 2020 work is a masterpiece of sorts.

     The film begins with what some might describe as a kinky sex act, as the hairy-chested and quite beautiful Bruno (Hugo Catalán) is intensely at work licking and sucking the feet of his sexual partner Saúl (Esteban Caicedo). So good is the sex that Saúl ejaculates during the opening credits.

      When asked, Saúl admits that he has been involved with feet fetishism before, but it has never made him “cum,” and that he still prefers cock. Bruno responds that perhaps it’s better to be safe, to which Saúl suggests that being HIV positive does mean you have AIDS or that you can’t enjoy sex—a strange way, incidentally, to begin a movie.

    When Bruno asks if he’s been tested, however, he responds seemingly in the negative or least vaguely. But it’s time to go, and leaves the hunk who introduces himself to us by providing his name.

     As we might suspect, given the film’s title, we now scroll back to the previous day, the yesterday of the title wherein Saúl sits in the waiting room of the university medical clinic, waiting presumably for the test he claims he’s never had. A handsome janitor catches his attention, and a woman also waiting in the room, Samantha, moves over to tell him that all the janitors in the center are just such studs, it must be part of the job requirement. Her name is called and the camera returns to a somewhat nervous Saúl, following him soon after into the doctor’s office as we watch get a simple blood test, being told that the results will be available in 30 to 40 minutes.

      Still a bit shaky from the test, Saúl visits the men’s room where he encounters the most beautiful boy yet, Orlando (Cristhian Díaz), who’s obviously ready to jump into a bathroom stall with him, but has to run at the moment, leaving his cellphone number in writing upon Saúl’s hand.

      In the very next scene Saúl, who’s obviously followed up on the cell call, is watching Orlando, who it turns out is a gymnast, go through his training routines, another boy, Sergio (Alfredo Veldáñez), who seems to be an acquaintance comments on the athlete’s total beauty, but warns that on his Grindr page he’s admitted that he’s HIV positive. But if Saúl is afraid to go ahead with the planned meeting, he’ll be glad to take his place.

      We can tell that Saúl, who apparently didn’t wait around for his test results, is still nervous, hesitant to move into territory which might endanger his life. When the two meet up after Orlando’s workout, he offers to show the athlete how to rollerblade as the two get to know one another, Saúl asking him if it is true that he’s advertised on Grindr that he’s HIV positive. He admits it, but claims it was just a ploy to see if he’d get more hook-ups. But it didn’t work. If he is HIV-positive, he suggests it just a matter of taking your medicine and moving on. After all, in the early days he’d gotten crabs and other infections that were quickly resolved. His good looks and his open and assertive personality keep Saúl close to him, and before they know it they are in Orlando’s bedroom quickly pulling off their jerseys and jumping into one another’s arms.

      What follows is one of the most beautiful filmed erotic scenes, with full nudity, that I have seen in ages. Hernández bravely has determined to return sex to post-AIDS gay movies, allowing his totally believable characters to behave just as two young, beautiful boys filled with lust normally might. They go at it with great pleasure, and it is an absolute joy to watch, not as voyeur but as someone who remembers still what sex was truly about.

       Saúl stops a moment to dig out a condom, but beyond that the director allows his two male bodies to do what gay boys have been doing from time immemorial, pleasure themselves. Alejandro Cantú’s sensuous color photography, backed up by David Solis’ gorgeous sets create cinematic magic that I haven’t observed in an LGBTQ film since Roberto Fiesco’s works such as Actos impuros (1993), David (2005) and Tremulous, Carlos and Julio (2015). I felt young again, almost as if a sensual, loving gay world without disease was almost possible.

     After sex, Orlando stills perceives that his friend is worried, and in support of his new lover, admits he understands his fears, arguing that it’s better to know and suggesting that he’ll join him the next morning to get his results.

       Orlando does not show up, but Saúl takes a deep breath and enters the clinic alone. We never actually hear about the results, but we suspect that he’s positive given the fact that soon after he attends a meeting of medical figures speaking on HIV matters. His friend Sergio is there as well, and Orlando soon joins him, apologizing for not being there, the two making up finally with a kiss.

       The doctor has encouraging news to share. With some caution, life after the discovery of being HIV positive is still very much an option and it has now been established that if they take their meds, HIV-positive individuals can live every bit as long as those who prove negative.

       Obviously reassured, Saúl has since met up with Bruno. And surely there will be many others in his life.

        Sex, one of the post important definitions of LBGTQ life is still alive and well—if needing just a little special protection. How I wish US and even today’s European films could be as refreshing honest as Hernández’s lovely work.

 

Los Angeles, August 18, 2022

Reprinted from World Cinema Review (August 2022).