Mexican Spitfire series

(On Cable TV, January 2021) Fun is fun, but even funny sitcoms can overstay their welcome. Mexican Spitfire’s Blessed Event was the eighth and final instalment of the Mexican Spitfire series—and star Lupe Velez’s last Hollywood film considering her unfortunate death two years later. The plot is near identical to previous instalments: Velez’s character’s husband is about to close a deal with millionaire Lord Epping, leading to a comedy of errors and mistaken identities when “Uncle Matt” (also played by the very funny Leon Errol) disguises himself as Epping. Mexican Spitfire’s Blessed Event would be funnier if it wasn’t a near-exact replica of the previous films in the series, a level of repetitiousness approaching a bad TV show with a single hook. Taken on its own, it does have the qualities of the series: Velez is gorgeous and funny in a very stereotypical way, while Errol manages to get laughs even in very familiar circumstances. The husband character is disposable (three actors played the same role in eight movies!) and the conclusion is typically rushed. The “comic” device here goes all the way to the protagonist temporarily kidnapping a baby, which isn’t nearly as funny as the writers must have imagined. But Mexican Spitfire’s Blessed Event does have a few specific qualities of its own: its setting is equally divided between an expansive Canadian hunting lodge and a southwestern dude ranch; and after so much comic confusion about the titular “blessed event,” the series ends on the revelation we’ve been expecting—not a bad send-off for the series, despite it being easily twice as long as it needed to be. For the record, now that I’ve watched all eight films, the four better-than-the-others instalments of the series would be The Girl from Mexico, Mexican Spitfire, Mexican Spitfire at Sea and Mexican Spitfire Sees a Ghost—although I’m iffy on Mexican Spitfire at Sea because it’s the first one I saw and so arguably the freshest. Still, I’m half-tempted to get that eight-movie DVD collection: Velez and Errol are constant delights even when going through the same motions, and the series does have good moments buried in its episodes. I strongly suspect that the films are best consumed at half-year intervals rather than my one-a-week bingeing.

(On Cable TV, December 2020) Seventh and penultimate episode in the Mexican Spitfire series, Mexican Spitfire’s Elephant isn’t one of its finest instalments – and knowing that this was the third film of the series to be released in 1942 does suggest why it feels like just another episode. Pretty much everything that has made the series is repeated here – Lupe Velez’s fast-paced, carefully mangled dialogue; Leon Errol’s dual role/impersonation; the Spitfire’s long-suffering husband; and deliberately goofy situations to heighten the face and slapstick. Yes, an elephant does get brought in at some point and it’s the highlight of the 64-minute film, which also features Velez singing two songs in this instalment’s cabaret club. While Velez is the draw, Errol remains the funniest performer here. If you’re a fan of the series so far, this is an easy if familiar watch. Still, there’s a strong feeling that Mexican Spitfire’s Elephant is repeating previous instalments, that the lemon is being squeezed too dry and that the series is running its course. Accordingly, the next episode, Mexican Spitfire’s Blessed Event, would be the last.

(On Cable TV, December 2020) To be fair, there’s a really good idea at the heart of The Mexican Spitfire’s Baby, the fourth instalment in an eight-film series where the last seven films are as identical as they are interchangeable. Here, the misleading title sets up the film’s big joke: That when the titular Mexican Spitfire (Lupe Velez, equal to herself) and her featureless husband decide to adopt a French war orphan, they end up with a comely 20-year-old. Once again, the series’ usual comic engines then take over: Leon Errol once again does double duty as likable Uncle Matt and pompous Lord Epping, Velez screams incomprehensible Spanish, attempts to deal with the beautiful war orphan lead to the usual threats of divorce, and so on. While the film’s premise may be different, it soon degenerates into more or less the same kind of comic mayhem as the other films in the series, complete with a too-quick ending. Those waiting for a Mexican Spitfire newborn will have to wait (more or less) until the eighth and last instalment for the series to conclude on the impending arrival of a stork. Until then, The Mexican Spitfire’s Baby is pretty much the baseline standard for a series that took pride in reiterating the exact same formula.

(On Cable TV, November 2020) If I repeat myself in reviews of the Mexican Spitfire series, it’s because the movies themselves are almost carbon copies of each other. In Mexican Spitfire Sees a Ghost, Lupe Vélez once again plays the titular spitfire, ready to unleash torrents of Spanish invectives and threats of divorce at the slightest opportunity, while Leon Errol gets most of the laughs once again by dual-playing a likable uncle and a less likable (but funnier) British lord. The convolutions of the plot, involving hidden bandits, business dealings and the usual intentional blurring of identities of Errol’s characters, are once again at the forefront to fairly good effect. But as usual, the fun is more in the scenes and details than the grander plot. One of the film’s highlights, for instance, is seeing Vélez dressed up as a maid, and screeching loudly as a “Mexican wildcat” in trying to convince a dog to come from underneath some furniture—it’s much funnier than it sounds. Of course, there’s a great blend of sexiness and wackiness at play whenever Vélez shows up in the series: combined with Errol’s very game comedic performances, it makes the series a somewhat consistent experience. The ending is a bit of an explosive puzzler, but it’s not as if anyone cares when the next instalment of the series was there six months later. Film historians infamously remember Mexican Spitfire Sees a Ghost as the top bill of a double-header that featured no less than Orson Welles’s The Magnificent Ambersons in the least desirable spot: mind-boggling but true!

(On Cable TV, November 2020) I concluded my review of Mexican Spitfire by stating that there was a definite danger in seeing too many of that series’ entries in too-close proximity, and I was right—watching Mexican Spitfire Out West barely two weeks later simply laid bare how similar the films of the series felt. At some point, films of a too-consistent series can feel like episodes of a TV show, and this third-of-eight Lupe Velez vehicle is pretty much a rerun of Mexican Spitfire, with dual roles being overused, Velez’s temper tantrums being more irritating than amusing (at this point, you have to wonder why the husband doesn’t simply grant the divorce she’s asking for, and walk away to a more peaceful life) and there’s very little variations from the previous film’s antics in structure or individual jokes. Despite the series heading out to Reno, it still feels as if just changing the previous film’s Mexico for another western locale. (A later instalment, taking the Mexican Spitfire at Sea, would at least have the advantage of a very different environment.) It’s still decently amusing if you’re in for Leon Errol’s dual-role shtick or if you happen to like Velez’s stereotypical fiery Latina persona, but my advice still stands—space those viewings by more than a few weeks.

(On Cable TV, November 2020) Lupe Velez played the character of Carmelita Fuentes in a series of eight films beginning with 1939’s The Girl from Mexico. But there’s a reason why the last six films of the series were all named a variation of “Mexican Spitfire” rather than “the Girl from Mexico” – Mexican Spitfire is a clear case of filmmakers looking at a movie, and essentially remaking it with an emphasis on what works. The humdrum The Girl from Mexico becomes the far more farcical (and Velez-centric) Mexican Spitfire, and the highly formulaic nature of the series is established. There’s not much missed in going directly to this film as an introduction—it begins with the newly married husband-and-wife coming back to New York after their Mexican honeymoon. Complications quickly accumulate, most of them focused on the dual roles played by Leon Errol as a kooky unclean and also a British lord coming to New York for business. Then there’s Lupe Velez, the titular spitfire that makes a scene during every scene, reverting to rapid-fire Spanish during her frequent tirades. It’s a stereotype (one easily imagines Salma Hayek, Sofia Vergara or Penelope Cruz playing the role in exactly the same way), but she plays it well—it’s tough not to smile once she gets going, and much of the film knows that appeal. The various other vaudevillian shenanigans are equally amusing, especially when the identity confusions pile up and everyone runs away to Mexico (obviously!) to patch things up. The male lead is bland to the point of being easily forgotten, but that’s the point—this is Velez’s series, and Errol is there to provide the comic insanity. Short but densely packed, Mexican Spitfire is not a great film—but it does have its charm. The only warning I have, based on seeing this and the later Mexican Spitfire at Sea, would be to space any viewing of the series’ films—they strike very similar notes, to the point of repetitiousness.