A remake of Carlos Enrique Taboada’s 1967 movie–now something of a cult favorite–Hasta el viento tiene miedo fared well at the domestic box-office and is enjoyable, slick entertainment. The cast is attractive and competent, the production values are solid, and the direction, photography, editing, etc., are all professional.
Although the plot does not slavishly follow the original story, the many similarities might make the picture a little predictable (to be expected from a remake). The only issue I have with Hasta el viento tiene miedo is minor: the private rehabilitation center for trouble teenage girls is located in a huge mansion, yet has a miniscule staff and a mere handful of patients (six to be exact), which hardly seems financially feasible.
After several suicide attempts, teenager Claudia is sent to a private, residential treatment center located in an old country house. The center is run by Bernarda and psychologist Lucía. There are five other girls there, suffering from addictions, eating disorders, and other emotional and psychological issues.
A series of strange events occur. Claudia (a brunette) after finding light hairs in her hairbrush, blames the blonde Jéssica, a charge the other girl denies. Josefina is accused of using her drawing pens to lacerate her thighs, but tells Claudia “Andrea did it.” Claudia and Jéssica sneak into an old tower on the grounds, now used for storage; Jéssica takes pills from the room, while Claudia discovers files of former patients, including Andrea’s folder. Claudia later finds a necklace in her room.
For visiting the (off-limits) tower–Josefina informed on her–Claudia is forced to sleep in a locked room in the center; Josefina experiences a violent outburst at dinner and is sent to the infirmary. The other four girls experiment with a Ouija board, then Jéssica does a strip-tease. She undresses down to her panties, but spots a blonde girl in a mirror across the room and screams. The mirror shatters. Claudia, meanwhile sees a shadowy figure open the door to her room; believing it is Josefina, Claudia follows her outside to the tower. Inside, she is startled and falls down the staircase to her death. However, Bernarda tells the other girls Claudia is “injured but recovering.” The center will close down for a time and they’ll all be sent home the next day.
In flashback, Lucía is seen giving Andrea the necklace Claudia later found. The two are involved in a lesbian relationship, although the psychologist is having second thoughts about the propriety of their romance. Later, another flashback shows Josefina informing Bernarda of what is going on; Bernarda spies on Lucía and Andrea (Andrea sees but doesn’t tell her lover). In the tower, Bernarda fondles Andrea, who bites the director’s hand and is pushed down the stairs to her death.
Claudia comes back to life (the director says she took an overdose of drugs that provoked a cataleptic state) but is now possessed by Andrea’s spirit. After talking to Lucía, Claudia/Andrea lures Bernarda outside in the driving rain, to the tower. Lucía and the girls try to follow, but the doors of the mansion close and lock of their own accord. In the tower, Claudia/Andrea puts a noose on Bernarda’s neck, and when the others (having broken a window to escape the house) enter, they see the center’s director hanging, dead. Claudia is back to normal.
Later, the staff and students leave the now-closed center. Claudia gives Lucía the necklace. Alone in the mansion, Lucía prepares to commit suicide by slitting her wrists while seated in a bathtub. She gazes in a mirror, and says “Andrea!” Her image changes to that of Andrea, who replies, “Claudia!” The end.
Although it would serve no purpose to make a detailed comparison between the two versions of Hasta el viento tiene miedo, those familiar with both films will see the basic plot is the same: Claudia is possessed by the spirit of Andrea, who uses her to get revenge on the sinister Bernarda. The 1967 film fooled around with some time-wasting stuff about boyfriends and expanded the possessed-Claudia footage to include Claudia playing the piano like Andrea did, and Claudia excelling in a literature class like Andrea did, ooh, spooky. The lesbian rationale for Andrea’s death is new to the remake, the setting is of course changed from a boarding school to a treatment center (although both are located in massive country houses and have a mere handful of students/patients), and the relatively happy ending of the original (Lucía will become the new school director) is turned into a bittersweet conclusion (Lucía commits suicide to be with her true love, Andrea). Curiously, the remake includes two direct homages to the original–the shower scene and the strip-tease scene–neither of which is particularly important or relevant to the plot (even in the ‘67 version they were basically cheesecake titillation, and the remake ups the ante with actual nudity).
In neither version is it entirely clear why Andrea’s ghost chooses the newly-arrived Claudia to carry out her vengeance; in the remake, Claudia is assigned Andrea’s old room, and perhaps we are supposed to make the link between Claudia “not caring” if she lives or dies and her eventual death-and-resurrection. The new version of Hasta includes some touches which would have been unthinkable in 1967: for example, the anorexic (although she doesn’t look it) Claudia has stopped menstruating (a real-life effect of anorexia); at the movie’s end, she begins her period and comments that this blood represents life, as opposed to death.
The performances are quite good. Martha Higareda (the daughter of actress Martha Elena Cervantes) is becoming an important and popular actress in Mexican cinema, and has a strong screen presence. Danny Perea, who shot to fame in Temporada de patos, is prominent as the troubled Josefina; the rest of the young actresses are attractive (Mafer Malo strongly resembles Amedee Chabot in some shots) and competent, although their roles are slightly under-written. Verónica Langer doesn’t have to do much but look stern, while Mónica Dionne gets to do more acting as the sympathetic Lucía. Cassandra Ciangherotti, who is billed but not credited as Andrea, has little significant screen time but is effective–the film hedges its bets on whether she’s manipulating Lucía for her own ends, or if she really has an emotional attachment to the older woman.
Hasta el viento tiene miedo is an attractive film, shot on location at an impressive house; Arturo de la Rosa’s cinematography is fluid and shows no evidence of the “shaky cam” tendencies of Cañitas. Director Gustavo Moheno opts for a naturalistic style, generally avoiding flashy jump cuts, shocks, etc. The special effects are minimal, in keeping with the overall restrained tone (some might complain, on the other hand, that the movie simply isn’t that scary as a result): Hasta is an “old-fashioned” character-and-plot driven fantasy film.
Trivia notes: Alicia Bonet, “Claudia” in the 1967 version, plays Claudia’s mother in this picture. Also, in the strip-tease sequence, clips from a movie starring “Los Polivoces” are shown on TV (the comedy team’s films were produced by Orofilms, one of the production companies that made Hasta….). Finally, there are a number of connections between Hasta el viento tiene miedo and Cañitas–Hasta’s producers include Estrella Medina and Julio César Estrada, who produced and directed Cañitas, respectively; Fernando Luján has cameo roles in both pictures (also, given that his real last name is Ciangherotti, Hasta actresses Valeria and Cassandra Ciangherotti are probably related to him); the two films also share a cinematographer, composer, and film editor, among other crew members. The biggest difference? Hasta el viento tiene miedo has a solid script, while Cañitas does not.
Hasta el viento tiene miedo is generally a pleasant piece of commercial entertainment.