Robert Rodriguez, the indefatigable multi-tasker who wrote, directed, edited, shot and scored “Once Upon A Time In Mexico” reportedly commenced principal photography, having neglected to complete one very important element of pre-production: The script. So he winged it. And it shows. While there is no shortage of entertaining, eye-popping pyrotechnics and hyper-kinetic fight sequences, what this film, the final chapter in Rodriguez’s “El Mariachi” trilogy, is sorely lacking is a sense of clarity.
Antonio Banderas is back as the heroic gunmen known only as “El,” and he’s as gloomy and dangerous as ever. As we learn in a series of flashbacks, El’s beautiful wife (Salma Hayek) and young daughter were executed sometime between the previous film, “Desperado,” and this one by a ruthless general. Enter a corrupt CIA agent named Sands (Johnny Depp, hitting yet another one out of the park) who enlists the vengeful El to kill the general and thwart a coup d’etat orchestrated by the country’s biggest drug lord, Barilla (Willem Dafoe). Rodriguez crams in Ruben Blades as an ex-FBI agent with a vendetta, Eva Mendez as a crooked narcotics cop, Mickey Rourke as a dog-loving fugitive working for Barilla, Enrique Iglesias as El’s protégé, and Cheech Marin as Sands’ yarn-spinning snitch — a dizzying array of characters and subplots that doesn’t seem to serve much purpose other than to confuse the hell out of us.
In a nod to the spaghetti westerns, Rodriguez pays homage to, let’s break it down by giving you the skinny on … THE GOOD: Depp, who is making it look too easy these days. He stole the show in “Pirates of The Caribbean,” and he does it again here with a performance that is equally sinister and hilarious. Also, “Once Upon a Time In Mexico” looks terrific, thanks to Rodriguez’ visual virtuosity and a state-of-the-art high-definition digital camera that captures all the fireworks at 24 frames per second.
THE BAD: Willem Dafoe is seriously miscast as the leader of the murderous cartel. Not only does he come across as extremely non-threatening — he’s wearing more makeup than a French hooker — I haven’t seen a good actor botch a foreign accent this badly since Harrison Ford in “K-19: The Widowmaker” (runners up: Nicolas Cage in “Captain Corelli’s Mandolin” and Kevin Costner in anything). Iglesias should stick to singing.
THE UGLY: The body count here rivals that of the summer’s biggest bloodfest: “Bad Boys 2.” We pass the gore saturation point midway through the film, and after that, all the blood and guts is simply stultifying. (Rated R for strong violence, and for language. Running time: 98 minutes)
Originally published in the Santa Monica Daily Press print edition on September 12, 2003. Read the original PDF.