The earliest movie I can recall to make extensive use of peoples' feet walking or dancing is the 1914 Marcel Perez comedy AMOR PEDESTRE. When this movie opens with a shot of a dancing couple's feet -- hers in stylish high heels, his in white shoes -- this set a mood of lightheartedness that persisted through.
When María Rojo's dancing partner disappears from Mexico City, it puts a big hole in her life; between her work as a telephone operator, her daughter, dancing with her partner makes up a big part of her life. Rumors fly that he may have stolen money. She tries to trace him, and as the rumors turn out to be false, she finds out he has gone to Vera Cruz. She follows him there, and finds herself amid a world of cheap hotels, prostitutes, and female impersonators. She takes it all in stride, behaving with kindness and courtesy to this foreign world.
María Novaro's movie has a disinterested feel to it, as if Miss Rojo's journey is a travelogue directed by an anthropologist. She gets off the train in Vera Cruz and walks to a nearby hotel with many an admiring glance following her. She walks barefoot into the waters of the Gulf of Mexico, she makes friends with some of the female impersonators who offer to help her in her quest, she helps tend the many children at the hotel, but never seems to be engaged in what she is doing; she wants to get back to her normal life, and this drive gives a cool, appraising, uninvolved air to the movie.
When María Rojo's dancing partner disappears from Mexico City, it puts a big hole in her life; between her work as a telephone operator, her daughter, dancing with her partner makes up a big part of her life. Rumors fly that he may have stolen money. She tries to trace him, and as the rumors turn out to be false, she finds out he has gone to Vera Cruz. She follows him there, and finds herself amid a world of cheap hotels, prostitutes, and female impersonators. She takes it all in stride, behaving with kindness and courtesy to this foreign world.
María Novaro's movie has a disinterested feel to it, as if Miss Rojo's journey is a travelogue directed by an anthropologist. She gets off the train in Vera Cruz and walks to a nearby hotel with many an admiring glance following her. She walks barefoot into the waters of the Gulf of Mexico, she makes friends with some of the female impersonators who offer to help her in her quest, she helps tend the many children at the hotel, but never seems to be engaged in what she is doing; she wants to get back to her normal life, and this drive gives a cool, appraising, uninvolved air to the movie.