How funny is it that Josie, a former Catholic schoolgirl, finds sexual liberation in Mexico, a Catholic country?
The fact that she’s a Catholic in a Catholic country experiencing a sexual renaissance in what is technically an extramarital affair makes visceral sense to me — there’s the thrill of the sort-of-forbidden, which is always hot, right? She’s caught up in passion and sex while her (also Catholic) half-Mexican friend Raquel is spiraling downward in excruciating heartbroken pain in the cruelly public aftermath of an ill-advised affair; their diverging trajectories form the dramatic spine of the plot, but also represent both sides of an interesting coin: the effects of acting on pure desire without much thought of the consequences. One of them gets away with it; the other doesn’t. When Josie and her husband tell their daughter, Wendy, they are getting divorced, she encourages them to go ahead and do it, not “stay together for the children” — pretty much helping to absolve Josie of any guilt she might have about leaving. Do you think this is typical? It’s hard for me to generalize about ki
