Desperado (1995)

I watched most of El Mariachi in junior high Spanish class and the rest in young adulthood. It didn't particularly grab me, but it worked pretty well on $7,000. When Netflix suggested the immediate sequel, I got curious how different it would be with a budget 100 times higher.

EM had ended with the unnamed title character (subsequently played by Antonio Banderas) killing drug lord Moco (Peter Marquardt), who had killed the guitarist's love interest and shot him in the left hand. Alas, his thirst for vengeance has not been quenched; he now seeks Moco's boss, Bucho (Joaquim de Almeida). El Mariachi's buddy Buscemi (yup, Steve Buscemi) discovers compelling evidence of which small town holds Bucho's base of operations. It doesn't take long for a trail of destruction to put Bucho on high alert. Meanwhile, El Mariachi must have a type, because he falls for yet another drug lord affiliate, bookstore owner Carolina (Salma Hayek, paired with Banderas for the first time), who tends his wounds.

Pain and Glory (2019)

Ah, my first Pedro Almodóvar viewing in five years. It's also easily his most recent film that I've seen, with 2006's Volver a distant second. Given that P&G draws inspiration from the writer-director's own life, according to an interview on the DVD, I can guess why he hasn't directed much of note in between.

Scenes jump around among the '60s, the '80s, and what I take to be roughly the present, but always in Spain. As a kid (Asier Flores), Salvador "Salva" Mallo is quite the achiever, but he lives in a backwater village of caves, and his mother (Penélope Cruz) and father (Raúl Arévalo) see the seminary as his only affordable means of education, much to his chagrin. As an adult (Antonio Banderas), he becomes a film director, but I wouldn't say he's any happier. Certainly not by the time he has a ton of illnesses at once, the rarest and most serious of which makes it hard for him to swallow even liquids.

Frida (2002)

Frida Kahlo was one of those names I'd heard on many occasions without giving much thought. Aside from her being a Hispanic artist, I couldn't have told you anything about her. So I figured if I got nothing else out of this movie, it would give me a rough idea of who she really was.

It begins in 1922 Mexico, when the first major event of her life happened. A reckless bus driver puts 15-year-old Frida (Salma Hayek, then in her mid-30s) in critical condition. She never fully recovers, possibly due in part to similarly incompetent surgeons. Her first love (Antonio Banderas) does not stay by her side. Fortunately, between little else to do and a newfound interest in Diego Rivera (Alfred Molina), she hones her own painting skill -- to the point that he has no constructive criticism. They go on to marry, despite her knowing that Diego cheated on his first wife a lot. She later calls that a far worse accident than the bus crash.