Few place-names resonate with the indolent, sensual mystique of Acapulco, which boasts the most alluring noun-to-vowel ratio found in any Romance language. But while much of Gerardo Naranjo's impressive sophomore feature, Drama/Mex, takes place on or near the beach, it's hardly a glam tourist's vision. Indeed, Tigrillo (Miriano Moro), a slightly pudgy teen who's taken up hustling more out of summer boredom than financial necessity, has trained her predatory sights on anyone with a Fodor's in hand, having laboriously mastered the magic English phrase "massage with relaxation." Maybe she ought to avoid the depressive local businessman (Fernando Becerril) with the envelope full of stolen cash and the loaded handgun, however. Elsewhere in the neighborhood, a stormy and steamy love triangle, complete with disturbing semi-consensual rape, is brewing among a flighty party girl (Diana Garcia), her very persistent ex (Emilio Valdés), and her current beau (Juan Pablo Castañeda), whose hot-tempered jealousy doesn't preclude renewed seduction efforts involving a full-band serenade.
Perhaps the highest praise I can offer Naranjo's film is the fact that it was nearly half over before I realized that I was watching one of those damn fragile-connection triptychs — a genre kicked into vogue seven years ago by fellow Mexican Alejandro González Iñárritu and his sleeper hit Amores Perros. Thankfully, Drama/Mex is more or less the anti-Babel.
Inevitable intersections among the characters happen so casually and offhandedly that they're almost dismissable, and Naranjo has zero interest in sensationalism (especially considering that the stories involve infidelity, prostitution and suicide), maintaining the same even-keeled tone throughout and ending on a pleasantly inconclusive note. Performances range from sturdy to superb — Moro, as the cruelly sarcastic Tigrillo, is especially fine — and while the handheld camerawork is sometimes distracting, Naranjo and/or his D.P. have a remarkable knack for capturing elegant compositions on the fly.
Title/Stupid, however. — Mike D'Angelo