María Candelaria
Written by Andreas Babiolakis
This review is a part of the Palme d’Or Project: a review of every single Palme d’Or winner at Cannes Film Festival. This is a Grand Prix winner: what the Palme d’Or was originally called before 1955. María Candelaria won for the 1946 festival and was tied with ten other films.
The film was selected by the following jury.
Jury President: Georges Huisman.
Jury: Iris Barry, Beaulieu, Antonin Brousil, J.H.J. De Jong, Don Tudor, Samuel Findlater, Sergei Gerasimov, Jan Korngold, Domingos Mascarenhas, Hugo Mauerhofer, Filippo Mennini, Moltke-Hansen, Fernand Rigot, Kjell Stromberg, Rodolfo Usigli, Youssef Wahby, Helge Wamberg.
María Candelaria is a heavily important film within Mexican cinema as a pivotal moment for the nation’s filmic exports. It represented the country at the first full Cannes Film Festival (then known as the International Film Festival), as the actual first year was cut short when Poland was invaded by stormtroopers. What this Grand Prix win did was grant exposure to the Mexican film industry for the world to see, and it was quite an introductory film: Emilio Fernández’s passion project is full of inspiration and hard work. Considering it is a 1943 release that made it to the 1946 Cannes Festival, this was an exception that helped Mexico’s filmic art stand out amidst the world’s best work, and what a film this was back in the day. The legendary Dolores del Río plays the eponymous María Candelaria: a daughter of a prostitute who leads a cursed life and often has luck going against her. The floor is Del Río’s to claim, and the film is hers to boot.
Despite Del Río’s ability to claim the entire screen, Fernández still does what he can as a creative eye to make María Candelaria his own creation as well. The sets feel like they are of a different reality: almost like a stage that has come to life. The angles and lighting also feel like enough effort was put into the feature, with the intention of going past the lead star’s presence as the sole reason to watch. Granted, I still think that María Candelaria presently exists as a vehicle for its thespians, but not because it was built to be this way. The short duration and the story’s focus on the central characters is what allows us to zero in on the acting. Concerning everything else going on around the performances, these are nice elements but they don’t quite match what is happening at the forefront.
Dolores del Río shines as the eponymous María Candelaria.
That is what makes María Candelaria the pride and joy of Mexico: the powerful story full of continued perseverance and heartbreak. In the same way that the film does try with its visual elements, there is no holding back with this devastating story: one full of promise but oh so much disappointment (in regards to the tricks of life, not the quality of the story, mind you). Candelaria the character has to answer for herself as a human being, a daughter, a woman, and a citizen, and she has to face so much that is outside of her control. Del Río is so devoted and magnetic in María Candelaria that she makes the titular character transcend off of the screen and into your hearts. It’s impossible to not feel moved by this film, even in the smallest sense. Mexico has had its fair share of opuses since, but María Candelaria is easy to root for: it’s an early example of acting and artistry that comes from the heart.
Andreas Babiolakis has a Masters degree in Film and Photography Preservation and Collections Management from Toronto Metropolitan University, as well as a Bachelors degree in Cinema Studies from York University. His favourite times of year are the Criterion Collection flash sales and the annual Toronto International Film Festival.