#coco meta

This is from I Love My Family!, a Coco picture book about the Rivera family. It's written as though it was Miguel writing it for Socorro, with photographs and brief descriptions and the story of Miguel's adventure in the Land of the Dead (which means that Miguel definitely told Socorro, if no one else, and it's unknown if she believed him or not.)

So....this is the only picture of Imelda? (Presumably not the only copy, though; I doubt Miguel would tape in their only ofrenda photo in a book meant for his little sister.)

Imelda was born in 1899 and died in her seventies. She would have died in the 1970s. Photographs were much more common then; over the past fifty years, did she never take another photo?

In the fifty or so years between Héctor's departure and her death, did she never have another photo taken of herself? With Coco? With her family? Photographs were much cheaper. Cameras were much cheaper. How is it that this is the only photograph of her?

here are some of my thoughts on imelda rivera from coco.

people who villianize her... please do not. it's much more severe with alma (who tbh is darker in the whole morally grey side but whilst she made mistakes, she was: incredibly traumatised by her husband being murdered in front of her, thrust into the position of leadership and raising three children alone). okay, encanto alma tangent aside, here is why I find it infuriating when people villianise imelda.

yeah, héctor did not deserve how he was treated, in life or in death. but placing the blame on imelda seems to be kind of missing the point and ignoring the context and not sympathising with her. I saw a post where the op was like 'encanto fixed coco's mistake by having alma apologise for her mistakes in pressuring her family' which... no. this is an over conflation between the two films. they're both about generational familial trauma, but in vastly different ways by different causes in different cultural and historical contexts. mamá imelda does realise her mistakes when she finally lets go of the music condition regarding miguel's blessing, which is implied rather than explicit, but it's there. the music ban came from a really deep place of hurt and trauma. I do not believe that imelda's efforts of erasing héctor would have been as strong if she had not loved him so deeply; her pain speaks of the deepest betrayal and confusion. why did her husband leave her? Didn't he love her and Coco? Why is her daughter's special lullaby now a gaudy song? She does not know.

People attacking imelda always rub me the wrong way. Picture this: it is the 1920s. WWII just happened, as did the Mexican Revolution and the Spanish Flu. You are, in the eyes of your neighbours, a forsaken woman whose husband has left her. You have a young child to raise and provide for. Do you have the time and resources to look for said husband? No! I saw someone suggest that Imelda should have gone looking for Héctor when he suddenly disappeared, and that is highly impractical.

No matter how much she loved Héctor, she had other priorities. Of course she would be incredibly concerned and hurt when his letters abruptly stopped! And he was touring with his beloved hermano, Ernesto! Surely he would have told Imelda if anything bad happened to her husband, right? What is more believable: your young handsome husband leaving you behind to chase fame or fortune, or his best friend murdering from his songs on his way home? How should Imelda have known?

It is likely that Imelda did not know that her husband died in 1921. Ernesto likely covered his tracks by implying to Imelda that her husband ran off. He is an incredibly conniving and manipulative character. If Imelda knew her husband had died, she probably would have wanted him to have credit for his music or messed up Ernesto's plans some other wag - too risky! Ernesto does not trust or like Imelda. Instead, Ernesto implies to Imelda that she and Coco have been abandoned. For fame, fortune, or another woman. It is the 1920s. Even if it is out of character for Héctor (he was such a loving husband and father in the flashbacks), it was certainly in character for men of the time. Town gossip likely exacerbated her worries, doubts.

Imelda did not have the space to be weak. She had to be strong. When she scrubbed Héctor from her life, it was not to condemn him to the Final Death. She was trying to protect herself and her family.

As much as I love Héctor Rivera, the blame for his fate lies with Ernesto, who murdered him and lied to his wife and stole his music... not his wife who was unknowingly widowed in 1920s Mexico (part of the time she raised Coco alone was during the Great Depression)!

Anyway, I will not tolerate Imelda Rivera slander. Yeah, maybe she should have heard Héctor out in the Land of the Dead, but for her it was five decades too late. The hurt was deeply, deeply entrenched, the lingering sting of betrayal.

But she did so remarkably well in an incredibly challenging situation (as did Alma). Please accept these complex and traumatised Latina single mothers with the same nuance and understanding you extend to troubled white men.

There are many subtle giveaways in the movie that hinted of Hector being Coco’s father. When I watched it for the first time in theaters years ago, and Hector shows Miguel his picture, I immediately thought:

That’s him. That’s the guy.

We’re thirty minutes into the movie and we have yet to see the mysterious musician’s face or know his name but we get to see some rando’s face when he was alive?

Of course I dismissed the idea already because Hector is obviously skinny as both alive and dead and clearly doesn’t match the man in the family photo with Imelda and Coco. So that’s meant to throw us off the trail for a little bit.

But after rewatching the movie for the 8th time this week I noticed something. When Miguel is introduced to his dead family we have this brief glimpse of each family member’s photo in the ofrenda.

Then several minutes later Miguel bumps into Hector, and Hector talks about how no one had ever put up his picture? And shows us his photo?

That is seriously brilliant.

I’m sure this has already been discussed but I still want to talk about it. Fast forward into an hour. Throughout Miguel and Hector’s adventure together, we’re already suspecting what we unconsciously know but that is constantly pushed back with conversations of ‘Ernesto de la Cruz is Miguel’s great-great grandfather.’ But as Ernesto is about to send Miguel home we’re kind of thinking that they’re time together is too short and we’re not really satisfied with Ernesto's answer about leaving his family behind for music and fame.

And since we, the audience, and Miguel have bonded with Hector more, that we haven’t gotten a real confirmation until Hector drops the truth bomb.

“My Coco…”

No, not that bomb. He said it five minutes before this one.

“I can see my girl.”

Yeah, that one. Now we’re already thinking he’s talking about Coco. The truth unravels more in the flashback of Hector being homesick, and earlier in the movie Coco thought her Papa is home, that it comes to no surprise to us when Hector finally mentions Coco’s name.

I feel like a lot of people gloss over Héctor's flaws a bit— largely, I suspect, because he is nowhere near the most flawed character in this masterpiece, and so the flaws he does have pale in comparison to Ernesto, or even Imelda— but he does have them, and they are pretty crucial to the plot.

Firstly, he can be pretty irresponsible.

I mean, the whole reason he's with Miguel is because his reaction to finding a lost living child was "well, better spend all night coming up with zany schemes to get this kid to Ernesto" not "well, better report this kid to the relevant authorities, who will then be able to contact Ernesto and solve this whole mess".

I mean, one could argue that since Héctor has a rather complicated relationship with the authorities at this point, he doesn't necessarily trust them to help him, but then he's perfectly willing to take Miguel in after the announcement at the Battle of the Bands. It seems more likely that it just never occured to him.

Another example is his attitude to other people's belongings.

He borrows things from people— including apparently their bones (though, honestly, that one is on Chicharrón. After the mini-fridge, the van, the napkins etc. he really should have noticed that there was a pattern going on here)— and doesn't give them back.

Most people seem to assume that these were all confiscated at the bridge, like the dress, and a lot of them probably were. But then look at how he loses the second dress.

He comes in right as Ernesto is trying to send Miguel home and then when Ernesto doesn't recognise him he pulls the costume off, revealing his normal clothes— and tossing the dress and all the accessories aside.

He doesn't even look to see where they land. Which is, I suppose, understandable— he's kind of going through a lot right now— but it shows that he's not exactly careful with the things he borrows.

Héctor's irresponsibility sort of leads into our second, bigger flaw: it is fairly easy to talk Héctor into doing something he's uncomfortable or unsure about. The most obvious example being leaving his family.

Now, we never get explicitly told that Héctor was talked into going on tour, but it's pretty heavily implied.

The lyrics to 'Remember Me'— "though I have to say goodbye", "though I have to travel far", "know that I'm with you the only way that I can be"— suggest that he didn't feel like he had a choice about going, and then he outright tells Ernesto that gaining fame and fortune was "your dream, not mine".

This certainly gives the impression that Héctor was maybe less on board with leaving home than Ernesto was, but got persuaded to do so anyway. His fatal flaw is essentially not standing up for himself and what he thinks is the right thing to do.

And what I find interesting about this is that Héctor does not change in this regard.

At the battle of the bands, when Héctor finds out that Miguel isn't a professional musician, he is clearly visibly uncomfortable with the idea of letting him perform.

Which is absolutely the right reaction, considering that this is a life and death competition (for him and Miguel) and he has no idea what Miguel's definition of musician is, apart from the fact that it apparently doesn't include performing in public.

For all he knows, the kid's only just into his second week of guitar lessons.

His first instinct, to go on instead (and can we all just acknowledge the sacrifice he was willing to make in going on stage under the name 'De la Cruzito'?) is actually the sensible and responsible thing to do, yet all Miguel has to do is to say that he wants to earn Ernesto's blessing and suddenly Héctor's fine with it. Even after learning that the kid has never even done a grito before.

In nearly a century, he has not managed to sort out this flaw in his character.

Which I find really sad, since I personally headcanon that the decision to go home should have been a huge character changing moment for Héctor.

This is the moment where he finally realises that he can't just let Ernesto push him around anymore, because he has a family now and he has to stand up for them as well as well as himself. Like, there is an alternate universe where Ernesto doesn't poison Héctor and this is the moment where he grows up and becomes a more responsible person and stops letting people walk all over him.

But instead, he dies and is immediately cut off from everybody he knows and thrust into an environment where he has no real responsibilities and is desperate enough to let people talk him into anything if it means he might stand a chance of getting over the bridge.

But then something hit me. Now, I won't be talking about whether the true villain is fear or justification or something else (if anything, I believe that all of the arguments are correct and they create a chain reaction, starting from the audience and writer's will to cause fear upon the characters that leads to justification). Instead, I'll be giving you a crash course on one aspect found in traditional Japanese aesthetics: wabi-sabi.

What is wabi-sabi? It's basically a thought or a concept in which beauty is found in impermanence and imperfection; the scars, the struggle, the markings, and the lingering pain that can make someone stronger and beautiful, in a sense. Think aged and cracked bowls with gold fillings or maybe even historical artefacts with great value in them, despite being broken beyond repair. But how does this relate to the Villain AU or canon in general?

Well, as a Japanology major nerd who's still struggling with basic kanji help I'd like to propose a thought: the canon Rivera family or the canon timeline and a happy no-murder AU are prime examples of wabi-sabi while the Rivera family from the Villain AU (plus the Bad End Ruy version of it) can be considered as the opposite of it.

Compared to the Villain AU's version, the canon Rivera family can be considered as "not as perfect" from the viewer's eyes at first glance. They're not stinking rich. There was a time when their family legacy was a big blur caused by heartbreak and anger. Not many people probably know of them outside Santa Cecilia and the Mexican shoemaking world, to an extent. They have scars in their history. There's heartbreak and a ton of guilt. They're imperfect.

But it's actually thanks to the imperfections that they're a wonderful and beautiful family. They all learn from their pain and from that pain they create something truly beautiful. Like how the shoemaking business wouldn't have existed if only Imelda (and Héctor, in a non-murder AU) did not have to worry about raising a family when there wasn't that much money to begin with. Or how Miguel's story probably won't be as touching if only Héctor hadn't died on the way home. The Rivera family won't be as colourful as it is−or could be, in a non-murder AU, if it weren't for additions of other family members like a weird great-great-granduncle/grunkle and more relatives than you can count since there could be more uncles and aunts.

But in the Villain AU? The Rivera family looked like "the perfect family" at first glance, especially the dead family. Rich, famous, beloved by all, and to many can never do anything wrong. Beautiful. Perfect.

But the kind of perfection and/or beauty they emit is similar to that of a beautiful but unnerving artwork that pulls you in not with genuine charm but something far darker. It's beautiful, yes. But there's a voice in your head that keeps saying either "Look away. Look away. Look away. There's something wrong about it" or "Clearly it's not that perfect... Right?". And the deeper you look, the darker and uglier it gets, and the more you realize that the perfection is a façade to cover the nastiness deep within.

The "perfection" shown by the Rivera family in the Villain AU is cold. It's demanding to those in the inner circle (family members). It's plastic. Fake to some, even, once they ever think further than what they see. Instead of showing the scars and accepting the fact that things can and will go wrong, they decided to "fix" them by covering said mistakes as if nothing has gone wrong.

Think of it this way. Which is more beautiful: an ordinary clay bowl that is fixed with care and gold (or another precious metal), or a high quality ceramic bowl fixed with hot glue instead? To me, personally and if we go by wabi-sabi, the former is the superior one. The latter, to me, is basically a big lie to hide the mistakes. Kinda reminds you of a certain family, no?

I went to see Coco again with friends -- it was part of a “2017 Look Back” series at the local arthouse cinema -- and afterwards we spent a long time discussing Coco.

So, one of the things I noticed this time round is that the ofrenda photo is the one taken sometime in the late 1910s, quite possibly the only one of Imelda, Hector, and Coco as a family.

But why is it the photo that it is on the ofrenda? Imelda lived into her 70s, long past the advent of affordable cameras for personal use. Why isn’t a photo of her from sometime between 1920 and 1970 on the ofrenda instead? I can’t believe that none exist.

I believe the reason that the 1920s family portrait ison the ofrenda is because that photo is the one Mama Coco put there. It’s the only photo that has even part of her father in it.

I’m 20 years old, I live in Mexico and the movie made me cry like I haven’t in such a long time. Here’s why.

First, I was confused by the name because “Coco” is a nickname for women called “Socorro” but as the movie goes on you realise *mild spoiler* the story is not entirely about the boy, Miguel, it’s about his great grandmother, Coco. I had wondered if Miguel would call his grandmother “Mamá” because it is very common in Mexico. They did. I call my own grandmother Mamá Marga and my family call my late great grandmother Mamá Chuchita. It’s such a little detail but it truly resonated with me.

Mexico is a place with a lot of history and many ancient traditions. Día de Muertos is just the best known. Día de Muertos has Aztec ancestry making it one of our eldest traditions. This day it’s surprisingly not about religion not even about death. It’s About Life. It’s about what it means to be alive, about those who have left but more importantly how we choose to remember them. It’s a celebration of their life and celebrating their memory because we choose not to forget.

The tag line for Coco is “Remember Me” and damn me if it’s not true.

The “Altar de Muertos” is another detail. We, more often than not, put up an Altar. At home, at school, at the office, in the streets, everywhere. The movie explained it so well I’ve heard of children who now want to put up an Altar with enthusiasm and love for now they understand their own tradition and it reminded us, as adults, the true beauty and meaning behind it.

Something that was not really in the movie was the dog Dante. He is a Xoloitzcuintle a Mexican breed of dog as ancient as the Aztecs. The legend says that these dogs helped you cross to the afterlife if you were kind to them in life otherwise you would forever be lost.

In conclusion, Coco is a beautiful movie. It’s not without flaws just like family. Mexico has problems. Yes, we have corruption. Yes, we have crime. Yes, we have poverty. But we are so much more than that. Mexico is full of color. Mexico is full of music. Mexico is full of delicious food. Mexico is full of incredible people. Mexico is full of those grandmother’s hugs and wisdom.

Not so long ago our country was tested with two great earthquakes and we were reminded of our solidarity. Common people going out of their way to help. Mexico was reminded that we have hearts of gold.

We are so much more. When they say Coco is a love letter to Mexico, they are not lying. Sometimes I wish we ourselves saw how beautiful our country is more often.

People praising Coco internationally makes me so glad. It was made with love and care. It’s all about those little details. Gracias Pixar.

*spoilers, speculation and angst below*

Mama Imelda never hated music; just what it reminded her of and what it had done to her family. Maybe when Ernesto told her about the death of Hector, she’d resolved to put his picture on the ofrenda. She was hurt, and struggling- but she had loved him once. Coco loved him still.

Then one day, Ernesto’s first record hits the shelves of Santa Cecilia. Imelda picks one up, idly wondering what he’d come up with (he’d always been a deft guitarist, a decent singer- but composition had never been his strength.)

Her heart stops when she reads the song titles listed on the back.

These were Hector’s songs. She knew them by heart. He’d sung Un Poco Loco at their recepcion; she’d kissed him, then. Now she heard it from the mouth of every mariachi, and she feels cold.

Imelda doesn’t hate music. But in Santa Cecilia, de la Cruz is blasted from every corner, and her memories of her once loved husband sour. He left his family and died in a barrio miles from home, and shared private memories- precious memories- with his ambitious best friend, for the sake of fame and fortune.

(De la Cruz was a bit of a penjedo, but one she had grown up with. Hector’s best friend, Coco’s Tio Ernesto. The possibility of foul play never enters her mind.)

She first bans de la Cruz’s music from the house for Coco’s sake. If Un Poco Loco now makes her feel ill, Remember Me leaves her furious. Her daughter’s lullaby has become a bastardized love ballad, and Imelda refuses to let her hear it.

The record does well. Incredibly well. The town is so proud of its hometown hero. Imelda can’t get away from them- except in the privacy of her walls. Words like forgiveness and amends become anathema, as bitter proof of her husband’s betrayal and abandonment are sung from every corner and become woven into the national identity.

Imelda doesn’t hate music. She loved it before Hector, and she loved it after Hector. But as Ernesto de la Cruz becomes a household name in every house but hers, as thinking of his name and his fame mean thinking of Hector, who is and was music, even after his death, and the music lived on-

- she can’t think of music anymore. She won’t. She won’t let Coco think of it either.

When Dia del Muertos comes that year, Hector’s grave is cold and undecorated, his belongings sold and thrown away. His face is ripped from the family picture, carefully stored and hidden away by his little girl. His face is far from the ofrenda, and he stands on the other side of the bridge for the first of many cold and long decades to come.

The Rivera house is quiet. This year, Imelda is busy learning to make shoes in between moments of fond remembrance for everyone but her husband. She’ll give the day its proper attention later, but if she works hard enough now, she can drown out the sound of the mariachi outside.