NEWSLETTER

BY PABLO HELGUERA, TRANSLATED BY MEGAN MCDOWELL
PHOTOS BY STEFAN RUIZ

Stefan Ruiz is a photographer who enjoys intimate access to the world of telenovelas. These photos are only a tiny fraction of the work he has shot over the last few years. Says Ruiz, "It's very difficult to get access to telenovela sets because they want to control their image. They film really fast and, unlike American soap operas, there is a clear beginning and end so they don't want outsiders to spoil it for their loyal viewers. This bedroom is part of the Telenovela Institute's set, which is located right next to the professional lot where all the big shows are shot. It has other rooms that you'd find in a house or apartment, but the bedroom is the most important because that's where the romance takes place.

In the summer of 1992, after the fall of the Soviet Union, the Russian television industry was in a profound transition—it needed to find a fast and cheap way to fill the airtime that had previously been occupied by official programming. And so, one producer at Commonwealth Channel Ostankino decided to buy the transmission rights to Los Ricos También Lloran (The Rich Also Cry), a telenovela that aired toward the end of the 70s in Mexico. This Mexican soap opera, which starred Verónica Castro and Rogelio Guerra, follows the classic, stereotypical plot of the Mexican melodramas from that decade: The protagonist is a lower-class woman in love with the son of a millionaire. It’s an impossible romance given the social—and racial—distances that separate them. However, after 249 episodes, the characters overcome these and other vicissitudes to finally unite in marriage.

The telenovela was relaunched on Soviet TV under the title Bogaty Toszhe Plachut, relying on very low-cost dubbing in which the original actors’ voices were still audible under the voices of the Russian translators. The producers at Ostankino had guessed that the telenovela might be popular, but they could never have anticipated the degree of obsession and mass hysteria it would incite. The ex-Soviet countries were all soon addicted to the show. The old-fashioned hairstyles seemed not to matter to anyone: Verónica Castro’s green eyes bathed in tears became the most famous eyes in Russia. Cities were paralyzed during the hour of the soap’s broadcast and the day following the last episode of Bogaty Toszhe Plachut was a national day of mourning. It was estimated that 200 million Russians watched the finale, making it the most-watched episode in the worldwide history of television.


“These are two students at the institute. It’s the same set I shot in the previous bedroom photos but it’s been ‘upgraded.’ After a few visits, the lighting guys actually helped me get a good ambience going. On professional telenovela sets they’ll be building and taking apart rooms every day. They’ll shoot their scenes and later another crew will build a whole new set. Then they’ll rebuild the original set all over again if they need to use it for another scene.”

My relationship with telenovelas, like that of most Mexicans, is complex and contradictory: On one hand, we look down on them as trashy, and on the other we secretly watch them from the corners of our eyes, letting ourselves be entertained whether by just one or two episodes or devoting ourselves to an entire series. In my case, there is also a family connection that I don’t often admit to. My mother’s brother, Enrique Lizalde, is an actor in telenovelas, and in fact was one of the top protagonists in the first productions that Televisa made (such as El Derecho de Nacer [The Right to Be Born] in 1966). In the afternoons my mother would say, “I’m going to see your uncle,” and she would set up the ironing board in front of the television until five o’clock—telenovela prime time. The pretext of “seeing Enrique” was in fact the perfect justification for watching the program every afternoon. I remember seeing Chispita [Spark] in its entirety, as well as the first editions of Corazón Salvaje [Wild Heart] and Mundo de Juguete [Toy World]. Enrique, who still acts in telenovelas (now usually as the protagonist’s father), would appear with his classic deep voice and his ultraserious attitude, almost menacing, almost the same in every program.

Many years later, in the summer of 2001, I was traveling along the Dalmatian coast when I started a conversation on a train with a 15-year-old Bosnian girl. “Where are you from?” she asked me. On finding out that I was from Mexico, her face lit up: “My favorite actress is Jacqueline Andere!” The girl proceeded to recite a list of actors from Mexican telenovelas and TV series that would be more appropriate coming from a tortilla vendor in Colonia Doctores. “How do you know so much about Mexican telenovelas?” I asked her. “I watch them every afternoon with my girlfriends. We love them and we’re learning Spanish. What’s Coyoacán like? On TV it seems so nice.” After saying our goodbyes, she told me: “You’re very lucky to come from a country with such great artists.”

Not long after, I went to Zagreb and stayed at the house of some friends, and I noticed that one of their aunts was watching Esmeralda. There was Uncle Enrique on the screen, translated into Croatian.


TO BE CONTINUED
THE GLOBAL PANDEMIC OF THE TELENOVELA | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 |

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Comments

Anonymous, on Nov 24, 2008 wrote: When I was a grade school kid in the Philippines, I had to endure telenovelas that have Thalia in the starring role and they were horribly dubbed in Tagalog from Spanish. Ugh. I moved to the States 7 years ago and never thought that telenovelas would never come to haunt me again. I was wrong. Now I have to endure that nightmare all over again whenever I’m doing my laundry.

Anonymous, on Jul 18, 2008 wrote: They use that crappy dubbing technique to this day in Russia.

Anonymous, on Jul 17, 2008 wrote: The thing about telanovelas is that the villais are always played by the brown person, and the good guys are always light skinned. Latinos are fracking racist man! I know I’m brown and have had more discrimmmination from my fellow latinos that whitey any day of the week! ha ha but I love Muchachitas, and Maria Mercedes! And Pobre Diabla! Two of them are poor girl rich boy! Love that story

Anonymous, on Jul 11, 2008 wrote: i really cant believe they adore mexican novelas in europe. it makes me laugh, but at the same time, i understand. they are just so bad, they are great, addictive, stupid, but smart in a way. televisa is corruption, it is all a contradiction. We middle class mexicans enjoy them, hide our love for them, kind of a guilty pleasure, because it is not considered a tasteful choice. I personally never was interested, but since i was a little girl, all my girlfriends, aunts, teachers and every female i met, talked about it, and when we did not have any cable, that was all i could watch... i did prefer doing so many things before surrending to the novelas, but they just simply hunt you down, so i let myself. i love that phase of my life, "soñadoras" y "la usurpadora" we`re the ones i would NOT ever miss... i watched many many more, until i realized i needed to get a life. So now, i still dont have cable, i rather save up the money and watch Entourage, the L word, Big love and all that american shows... and i admit it. those are novelas too. oh shit

Anonymous, on Jul 11, 2008 wrote: las novelas son la mamada

Anonymous, on Jul 2, 2008 wrote: advertisement of soap:)

Anonymous, on Jul 2, 2008 wrote: the term “soap opera” comes, just because in the good old days there was advertisement inbetween the episodes of these idiotic telenovelas

Anonymous, on Jul 2, 2008 wrote: the term “soap opera” comes, just because in the good old days there was advertisement inbetween the episodes of these idiotic telenovelas

Anonymous, on Jul 1, 2008 wrote: "cuna de lobos"? !!