There are some filmmakers who defy categorisation, since their versatility in terms of skill and tendency to explore a wide range of stories has often allowed them to challenge conventions, going in pursuit of something deeper and more profound, regardless of which genre in which they’re working. Very few directors have been able to achieve as much incredible consistency as Alfonso Cuarón, who may only make a couple of films every decade, but has allowed himself the space to develop concepts that are meaningful and interesting to him, Much like some of his equally gifted peers, there isn’t a single choice for the film that best represents his style or which can be considered his masterpiece, since there are arguments for most of them (in fact, with the exception of his two early films – both of which are still quite good – each of the films he has directed over the course of the 21st century has a legitimate argument in its favour to not only be the director’s personal magnum opus, but also one of the greatest films in the history of the medium. Of all of his films, the one I am constantly drawn to revisit time after time, more than any others, is Y tu mamá también, which also happened to be the moment Cuarón officially broke through and became one of the most interesting and unique filmmakers to emerge out of Mexico at a crucial moment in its history. Set in the late 1990s, the film follows Julio and Tenoch, a pair of rebellious teenagers who fashion themselves as young libertines, seeing the world as theirs to conquer, leading them to adopt a laissez-faire approach to life. On a lengthy cross-country trip, the boys encounter Luisa, a beguiling older woman who immediately piques their curiosity, and who very quickly decides to accompany them on their voyage of joyful recklessness, doing her part ot help these young men discover themselves while traversing the open roads. It’s a fascinating film that finds Cuarón doing some exceptionally exciting work that easily rivals many similarly-themed films produced by his peers, being a wickedly funny, subversive dark comedy that blends satire, romance and melodrama into one daring, provocative achievement that is as delightfully shocking today as it was a quarter of a century ago, which is always a sign of a truly tremendous work of art.

Understanding why Y tu mamá también has become so celebrated requires us to look beneath the surface in an effort to see the many different ideas that the director is interrogating. However, its the simplicity of the themes that drive the story that make it so incredibly effective – at its core, Cuarón has made a film primarily about masculinity, following two young men as they attempt to step out into a world that they wholeheartedly believe that they can conquer, not realising that there is much more ahead of them than they imagined while living their very insular, sheltered life, one in which they’re able to be reckless without the threat of any consequences, since they somehow always manage to plead ignorance, and get away with it as a result of their happy-go-lucky disposition and youthfulness. However, they soon come to realise that there is an entire world out there that isn’t so receptive to their charms, which leads them to undergo quite an expansive journey of self-discovery, in which they learn more about themselves and each other than they ever had before. It’s a fascinating approach, and one that the director intentionally uses as the foundation for what turns out to be one of the most complex depictions of masculinity ever committed to film. The extent to which Cuarón was drawing from his own influences remains to be seen (although we can hope that he was not nearly as much of a philandering menace as Julio and Tenoch, even if they’re incredibly likable), but he is committed to crafting what essentially turns into a film that is far bolder and more engaging in how it chooses to explore the world and the characters within it than we may have expected at the start. Any film about identity is always going to be interesting in some way, and Y tu mamá también chooses to look at it from multiple angles, using some very traditional narrative techniques to examine the intersection between masculinity and sexual identity in some fascinating and insightful ways. Much has been made about the wall-to-wall sexual continent of this film, and that’s not an understatement – from the start to almost the end, Y tu mamá también tells the story of two young men who are simply seeking any opportunity to satisfy their desires, which Cuarón uses to carefully piece together a sardonic comedy that conceals deeper layers, many of which can come as a surprise, especially when we see the exact message being communicated.

However, there is more to what Cuarón is doing here than just telling a story of a pair of wayward young men being forced to grow up and see the world is not some enormous playground, but instead quite a hostile place to those who take it for granted. There is a wonderful circularity between Y tu mamá también and Roma – the former was not the director’s first film (but rather his mainstream breakthrough, as both of his previous two features were well-received but not nearly as much as the works we’d be getting in the coming decades), and while the latter is, to date, the most recent film he has directed, we can sincerely hope that it won’t be his last film. Yet, something is fascinating about the two films, which comes down to the fact that they exist in dialogue with one another, Cuarón paying tribute to his homeland and its people. This film is a story of Mexico more than anything else – Julio and Tenoch represent the youth, while Luisa is a representative of the slightly older generation, one that is still able to be functional, but has some wisdom and experience that creates a fascinating dynamic between the characters. Choosing to make a road film about a trio of characters venturing across Mexico by car allows the director to capture so many intriguing nuances – the movement between the sprawling urban metropolis in which the boys spent almost their entire lives and remote villages and seaside hamlets creates a tremendously compelling portrait of a country undergoing enormous change. It is not the main motivation for the plot, but the film is set at the same time as Vicente Fox’s rise to become President of Mexico, a watershed moment in the country’s history, and even when it is not outright exploring the political situation in detail (although there are some fascinating observations scattered throughout), the manner in which the director weaves everything together is quite remarkable. There’s something so deeply captivating about a film that can be both an intimate character study and a sprawling travelogue, and to have the capacity to so freely bounce between the two, frequently challenging us to look beneath the surface and engage with the core ideas, is one of the many reasons Cuarón is hailed as one of our greatest living filmmakers, and Y tu mamá también quite possibly his ultimate masterpiece.

Something that becomes very clear as we make our way through this film is that a lot of the success of the film cannot be attributed solely to the director, but rather to a collaboration between Cuarón and his two stars, both of whom are the immovable foundation on which the entire film is constructed. Diego Luna and Gael García Bernal are widely considered two of the most important actors to ever emerge from Mexico, having not only made a remarkable success at home, but also leaving an indelible impression on the global industry. Y tu mamá también was not their first time acting in something prominent, but it was most certainly the moment the world took note of them, and played a major role in their gradual ascent to become exceptionally acclaimed actors. The reason their performances feel so authentic is that García  Bernal and Luna were close friends in real life, and the decision to cast them both (which was actually met with resistance from the director at first, as he had to be convinced by García Bernal that pairing them together would actually be a good opportunity to draw out the natural bond between them) proved to have exceptional results. There’s something quite beautiful about how this film showcases this friendship, since it is entirely believable, even if both actors are playing very immature, narcissistic characters who border on being pests at the best of times. The natural chemistry between them is extraordinary, and they play off each other brilliantly – how else do we even comprehend a film that is so dedicated to such a wacky premise, yet still somehow feels so authentic and meaningful without becoming heavy-handed or overly complex beyond what was necessary? Credit has to also to go to Maribel Verdú as the third member of their ménage à trois, a woman who brings a level of wisdom and sophistication to a journey that is otherwise teeming with vulgarity and eccentricity – and while Verdú doesn’t have as much to do as the two leads (despite being arguably the most prominent star of the trio), she grounds the film and brings a sense of elegance to a dynamic that benefits massively from her extraordinary efforts. The actors all have extraordinary chemistry, and work together brilliantly to make these characters seem entirely genuine, which has exceptional results in defining a film that sets out to examine the innermost recesses of the human condition through presenting us with some wonderfully moving performances that feel entirely lived-in and realistic.

Through the collaboration between the director and his two stars, the film becomes a marvel in both narrative and structure – but oddly enough, the latter is not spoken about quite as frequently, since most of the focus goes to the screenplay, which is certainly impeccable, but only successful as a result of Cuarón’s extraordinary direction. At a glance, Y tu mamá también feels extraordinarily simple, a series of episodic vignettes in the lives of Julio and Tenoch as they set out to explore Mexico and become acquainted with every person who catches their attention. Yet, it’s the fluidity of the film that actually makes it so cohesive, which is a testament to the director’s soulful, meaningful approach to telling this story. At the core of the film we have what is essentially a sex comedy reworked into the format of a slightly experimental drama, a free-form, stream of consciousness film that doesn’t always make sense in the moment, but rather leaves an impression based on the accumulation of a number of scenes that work together in tandem to create this vibrant, energetic portrait of youth, a topic that not many filmmakers manage to get right, but which Cuarón achieves with such incredible skill, it becomes part of the many reasons we can celebrate this film as such a staggering achievement. It is also a marvel when it comes to finding the tonal balance – considered Y tu mamá también is based around two young men holding onto the final vestiges of their adolescence, fully aware that they have to soon surrender to the reality that they’ll need to put aside their childish worldview and embrace maturity, there was always going to be a bundle of very complex emotions that guided this film. However, at no point is the story melodramatic or unnecessarily saccharine where it didn’t need to be, instead containing the perfect blend of irreverent, off-the-wall comedy, while also grounding it within a recognisable reality. It’s a fascinating piece of filmmaking that knows exactly how to hold the audience’s attention, taking its time to reach a particular point but nonetheless still proving to be a bit of a miracle in how everything is so perfectly placed together in ways that are nothing if not entirely surprising.

There are many reasons Y tu mamá también has been hailed as not only a masterpiece that kickstarted a brilliant set of careers, but as one of the most important and celebrated works of the past few decades, which all comes down to the perfect collision between concept and execution. The simplicity of the premise, in which we see three people on a voyage of self-discovery where they learn some of life’s harshest realities, has an innate complexity that the story beautifully expands on, showing us so many different sides of a relatively straightforward subject without resorting to the same hackneyed techniques that we’d expect from a lesser filmmaker. Cuarón sets out to examine masculinity and identity through the lens of two young men trying to find themselves over the course of a few weeks, showing their efforts to hold onto their youth for as long as possible, and in the process witness it slowly being stolen away from them by the relentless passage of time. It all sounds very dour and self-serious, but there are few films that lean into irreverence more than this one, especially when it tries to find the natural humour behind some very familiar situations. As both a deeply personal existential piece, and a broader, sprawling metaphysical odyssey, Y tu mamá también is an incredible achievement – there’s a nuance to this film that feels so much more complex than many may expect, to the point where anyone who reduces it to simply a sex comedy is doing a massive disservice to one of the most enthralling, elegantly-composed films of the 21st century, a deeply captivating character study that interrogates the human condition in a way that is both forceful and insightful, oscillating between tones and finding the right balance between them. Ultimately, Y tu mamá también is appropriately considered a generational masterpiece, and the film that launched the director’s ascent to become one of the most celebrated filmmakers of his generation – and it just goes to prove that all one needs to redefine the medium is a good story, a few strong collaborators and the willingness to follow through on some challenging ideas, since the results, while unconventional, are nothing short of exhilarating when we see them in motion.