Another striking attribute of most Latin American movies is the political, economic, and social situation that prevailed in the country at the period they were created (Elena, Lopez & Salles 2004). The status of Latin American film at present is that of a sequence of average to small, at times minuscule, national movie industries, every one of them burdened with small markets and structural limitations, but teeming with imagination, talent, and creativity (Elena et al. 2004). It is also a film industry with a moving and proud history of artistry and political revolution. It is previously mentioned, among Latin American directors themselves, that they did not constantly have excellent scripts, that scripts were a weak spot and that their creation was a filmmaker’s cinema (Noriega 2000). Today they commonly recognize a different dilemma: the absence of efficient producers, who know how to build up the finance, bring the needed people together, and form a production.
Nevertheless, this in turn is indicative of a bigger problem. Making a feature film is mostly a kind of organized chaos, which necessitates a strong foundation (Hart 2004). Without the types of equipment which can be undervalued only in highly industrialized economies, I have frequently thought that to succeed in creating a film in several parts of Latin America is a negligible wonder. This essay will argue that contemporary Latin American cinema does not remove form from content, but give characters murkiness and strength, affection, life and death through comparing the Andres Wood’s Machuca and Guillermo del Toro’s Pan’s Labyrinth. Latin American cinema becomes successful in reaching its target audience not through amazing special effects, but through building on human qualities such as courage, compassion, beauty, violence, and evil.
What was specifically dreadful about the takeover of