Serpent and the Sun: Tales of an Aztec Apprentice, directed and produced by Shaahin Cheyene. Venice, CA: Victory Films, 2008. 90 min.; theatrical release.
Reviewed by Timothy White. Reprinted from Shaman's Drum, Number 79.
Serpent and the Sun: Tales of an Aztec Apprentice is a well-produced documentary film that offers an informative and entertaining introduction to the world of Aztecan, or Nahuatl, curanderismo (shamanic healing) traditions. The film opens with a brief prologue explaining that Aztecan spiritual cultures were not destroyed by the Spanish conquistadors and clerics—they only went underground, and Aztecan shamanic healing traditions are still practiced among the 1.5 million Nahuatl-speaking people living in Mexico today. In fact, one of the central themes repeated throughout the film is that Aztecan shamanic practitioners are coming out of the closet and reclaiming their traditional indigenous roots.
The film is woven around the true story of the spiritual awakening of a dispirited young mestizo artist, Tachi, who has grown increasingly frustrated working low-paying odd jobs around Mexico City. Originally, he had planned to join the Zapatista rebellion in southern Mexico, but after he is fired from a job, he sets out to find a brujo (sorcerer) at Mexico City’s infamous Sonora Market, in an attempt to place a magical curse on his former boss. Thanks to a series of serendipitous coincidences, Tac
hi is befriended—and saved from being cursed himself—by a benign Aztec curandero, Miktlan Ehekateotl (“Ehe”) Kuahtlinxan, who cautions him about the dangers of dabbling in sorcery and introduces him to an Aztecan spiritual tradition known as Tetzkatlipoka (Black Obsidian Mirror). Eventually, Tachi chooses to take the path of a healer, as opposed to that of a warrior, and he embarks on a spiritual odyssey, visiting and studying with various traditional curanderos in southern Mexico.
Using an educational style popularized in television documentaries, Iranian-born director and producer Shaahin Cheyene combines both actual and reenacted scenes of events in Tachi’s life with quasi-documentary footage of Ehe teaching Tachi about various aspects of curanderismo, juxtaposed against studio interviews of experts offering supplemental commentaries on the various themes introduced in the film. For example, DeAnna Rivera, of the UCLA Tribal Learning Community, and Ysamur Flores-Peña, of the UCLA Department of World Arts and Culture, each talk about how the Nahuatl people have managed to maintain their spiritual and shamanic practices, sometimes by incorporating a thin veneer of Spanish religious practices, and sometimes by relocating in isolated mountain communities. In another segment, Eliseo Torres, an ethnographer from the University of New Mexico, and John Bakas, a Greek Orthodox priest, each talk about the evolution and practice of brujeria (black magic) in Mexico and elsewhere.
Serpent and the Sun was filmed at various well-known Mexican locations, including the streets of Mexico City, the pyramids of Teotitlan, the basilica above the Aztecan Temple Mayor, and the mountains of Puebla and Oaxaca. It was produced using a variety of cutting-edge cinematography and editing techniques—such as time-lapse photography, special animated effects, stylized photo borders, and jump-cut editing—in a style typical of contemporary documentaries and music videos. Some of the expository scenes—particularly those in which Ehe lectures Tachi about the philosophy and precepts of the Tetzkatlipoka traditions—are a little slow paced, but the film’s fluid montage of illustrative enactments, documentary footage, and educational commentaries keeps it from getting too bogged down. The general focus on documenting Aztecan spiritual healing traditions is enlivened by the personal story of Tachi’s efforts to find meaning in his life and his sampling of various healing rituals, as well as by his maestro Ehe’s congenial personality, earthy wisdom, and unpretentious teaching style.
While tracking Tachi’s journey to find an appropriate spiritual teacher, the film introduces a variety of indigenous Mexican healing traditions. Tachi meets with Olmec herbalist Santiago Ortelas Aumiento, who explains the principles of his herbal healing traditions. He undergoes an obsidian purification healing with a group of mestizo curanderas. Then, at a San Andreas Tuxtla cigar factory, Ehe instructs him in the traditional healing uses of tobacco. Later, Tachi visits the Sierra Mazatec, where he participates in a mushroom velada conducted by don Philamon Garcia Sabina, the great-grandson of the renowned Mazatec shamaness Maria Sabina. Finally, Tachi decides to apprentice in the Tetzkatlipoka tradition with Ehe, and he embarks on a four-day initiation that involves being buried alive in an underground cave. Each segment of Tachi’s story is illuminated through informative commentaries by relevant specialists—for example, naturopathic doctor Holly Lucille, psychologist Ron Scolastico, and herbalist Arturo Ornelas each talk about the spiritual side of indigenous herbal traditions.
The film’s multilevel approach can be seen clearly in the segment documenting Tachi’s journey to the Mazatec town of Huautla de Jimenez and his participation in the Mazatec mushroom velada. The segment includes some background scenes of Tachi and Ehe hiking through the rugged Sierra Mazateca and exploring the town of Huautla; a montage of historical photos documenting the “discovery” of Maria Sabina’s work during the 1950s; a brief discussion about Timothy Leary’s role in promoting the use of magic mushrooms; and some insightful explanatory commentaries by American psychologist Thomas Pinkson, psychonaut Daniel Pinchbeck, and psychiatrist Charles Grob about the use of psilocybin mushrooms in Mazatec culture and the spiritual value of entheogens in general. It also includes footage of don Philamon explaining Mazatec mushroom traditions to Tachi, plus a few short shots of the opening rituals of a mushroom velada. Unfortunately, the dramatization of Tachi’s inner mushroom journey as a series of spinning kaleidoscopic patterns struck me as a rather amateurish rendition of a psychedelic trip. In contrast, I was impressed by the revelation that don Philamon’s young daughter Maria Garcia, who participated in Tachi’s mushroom velada, has been eating mushrooms since age six and is already recognized as a sabia (wise one), like her great-great-grandmother Maria Sabina. Maria Garcia’s avid participation in the mushroom ceremony shows, perhaps better than more didactic commentaries, that indigenous healing traditions continue to thrive in Mexico.
This film makes the point that Aztecan healing cultures are still active, but it also illustrates the ongoing malleability of indigenous spiritual practices, and the cross-fertilization of spiritual traditions that has taken place in Mexico, as in other parts of the world. For example, it calls attention to how the Mexican Catholic “Virgen de Guadalupe” is depicted wearing the outfit of an Aztec maiden and incorporating some qualities of the Aztecan Earth Mother, Tónantzin. Interestingly, some of the Aztecan shamans make use of New Age terms, such as chakras, and the film itself occasionally draws cross-cultural comparisons by quoting philosophical comments by great world thinkers, ranging from Mark Twain to Gandhi, Confucius, the Buddha, and Chief Seattle. In short, instead of providing an orthodox anthropological analysis of indigenous cultures, this film offers an informative overview of the eclectic modern world of Mexican curanderismo.
The overall professional quality of Serpent and the Sun’s cinematography, its sympathetic and respectful introduction of various curanderismo traditions, and the charismatic personality of the maestro Ehe make this a documentary worth watching at least once. However, the necessarily brief treatment of a variety of curanderismo traditions—as opposed to an in-depth exploration of one specific tradition—limits the film’s ultimate usefulness for serious shamanic practitioners.
Timothy White is the founding editor of Shaman’s Drum, and he has a special interest in Mesoamerican curanderismo.
Reviewed by Timothy White. Reprinted from Shaman's Drum, Number 79.
Serpent and the Sun: Tales of an Aztec Apprentice is a well-produced documentary film that offers an informative and entertaining introduction to the world of Aztecan, or Nahuatl, curanderismo (shamanic healing) traditions. The film opens with a brief prologue explaining that Aztecan spiritual cultures were not destroyed by the Spanish conquistadors and clerics—they only went underground, and Aztecan shamanic healing traditions are still practiced among the 1.5 million Nahuatl-speaking people living in Mexico today. In fact, one of the central themes repeated throughout the film is that Aztecan shamanic practitioners are coming out of the closet and reclaiming their traditional indigenous roots.
The film is woven around the true story of the spiritual awakening of a dispirited young mestizo artist, Tachi, who has grown increasingly frustrated working low-paying odd jobs around Mexico City. Originally, he had planned to join the Zapatista rebellion in southern Mexico, but after he is fired from a job, he sets out to find a brujo (sorcerer) at Mexico City’s infamous Sonora Market, in an attempt to place a magical curse on his former boss. Thanks to a series of serendipitous coincidences, Tac
hi is befriended—and saved from being cursed himself—by a benign Aztec curandero, Miktlan Ehekateotl (“Ehe”) Kuahtlinxan, who cautions him about the dangers of dabbling in sorcery and introduces him to an Aztecan spiritual tradition known as Tetzkatlipoka (Black Obsidian Mirror). Eventually, Tachi chooses to take the path of a healer, as opposed to that of a warrior, and he embarks on a spiritual odyssey, visiting and studying with various traditional curanderos in southern Mexico. Using an educational style popularized in television documentaries, Iranian-born director and producer Shaahin Cheyene combines both actual and reenacted scenes of events in Tachi’s life with quasi-documentary footage of Ehe teaching Tachi about various aspects of curanderismo, juxtaposed against studio interviews of experts offering supplemental commentaries on the various themes introduced in the film. For example, DeAnna Rivera, of the UCLA Tribal Learning Community, and Ysamur Flores-Peña, of the UCLA Department of World Arts and Culture, each talk about how the Nahuatl people have managed to maintain their spiritual and shamanic practices, sometimes by incorporating a thin veneer of Spanish religious practices, and sometimes by relocating in isolated mountain communities. In another segment, Eliseo Torres, an ethnographer from the University of New Mexico, and John Bakas, a Greek Orthodox priest, each talk about the evolution and practice of brujeria (black magic) in Mexico and elsewhere.
Serpent and the Sun was filmed at various well-known Mexican locations, including the streets of Mexico City, the pyramids of Teotitlan, the basilica above the Aztecan Temple Mayor, and the mountains of Puebla and Oaxaca. It was produced using a variety of cutting-edge cinematography and editing techniques—such as time-lapse photography, special animated effects, stylized photo borders, and jump-cut editing—in a style typical of contemporary documentaries and music videos. Some of the expository scenes—particularly those in which Ehe lectures Tachi about the philosophy and precepts of the Tetzkatlipoka traditions—are a little slow paced, but the film’s fluid montage of illustrative enactments, documentary footage, and educational commentaries keeps it from getting too bogged down. The general focus on documenting Aztecan spiritual healing traditions is enlivened by the personal story of Tachi’s efforts to find meaning in his life and his sampling of various healing rituals, as well as by his maestro Ehe’s congenial personality, earthy wisdom, and unpretentious teaching style.
While tracking Tachi’s journey to find an appropriate spiritual teacher, the film introduces a variety of indigenous Mexican healing traditions. Tachi meets with Olmec herbalist Santiago Ortelas Aumiento, who explains the principles of his herbal healing traditions. He undergoes an obsidian purification healing with a group of mestizo curanderas. Then, at a San Andreas Tuxtla cigar factory, Ehe instructs him in the traditional healing uses of tobacco. Later, Tachi visits the Sierra Mazatec, where he participates in a mushroom velada conducted by don Philamon Garcia Sabina, the great-grandson of the renowned Mazatec shamaness Maria Sabina. Finally, Tachi decides to apprentice in the Tetzkatlipoka tradition with Ehe, and he embarks on a four-day initiation that involves being buried alive in an underground cave. Each segment of Tachi’s story is illuminated through informative commentaries by relevant specialists—for example, naturopathic doctor Holly Lucille, psychologist Ron Scolastico, and herbalist Arturo Ornelas each talk about the spiritual side of indigenous herbal traditions.
The film’s multilevel approach can be seen clearly in the segment documenting Tachi’s journey to the Mazatec town of Huautla de Jimenez and his participation in the Mazatec mushroom velada. The segment includes some background scenes of Tachi and Ehe hiking through the rugged Sierra Mazateca and exploring the town of Huautla; a montage of historical photos documenting the “discovery” of Maria Sabina’s work during the 1950s; a brief discussion about Timothy Leary’s role in promoting the use of magic mushrooms; and some insightful explanatory commentaries by American psychologist Thomas Pinkson, psychonaut Daniel Pinchbeck, and psychiatrist Charles Grob about the use of psilocybin mushrooms in Mazatec culture and the spiritual value of entheogens in general. It also includes footage of don Philamon explaining Mazatec mushroom traditions to Tachi, plus a few short shots of the opening rituals of a mushroom velada. Unfortunately, the dramatization of Tachi’s inner mushroom journey as a series of spinning kaleidoscopic patterns struck me as a rather amateurish rendition of a psychedelic trip. In contrast, I was impressed by the revelation that don Philamon’s young daughter Maria Garcia, who participated in Tachi’s mushroom velada, has been eating mushrooms since age six and is already recognized as a sabia (wise one), like her great-great-grandmother Maria Sabina. Maria Garcia’s avid participation in the mushroom ceremony shows, perhaps better than more didactic commentaries, that indigenous healing traditions continue to thrive in Mexico.
This film makes the point that Aztecan healing cultures are still active, but it also illustrates the ongoing malleability of indigenous spiritual practices, and the cross-fertilization of spiritual traditions that has taken place in Mexico, as in other parts of the world. For example, it calls attention to how the Mexican Catholic “Virgen de Guadalupe” is depicted wearing the outfit of an Aztec maiden and incorporating some qualities of the Aztecan Earth Mother, Tónantzin. Interestingly, some of the Aztecan shamans make use of New Age terms, such as chakras, and the film itself occasionally draws cross-cultural comparisons by quoting philosophical comments by great world thinkers, ranging from Mark Twain to Gandhi, Confucius, the Buddha, and Chief Seattle. In short, instead of providing an orthodox anthropological analysis of indigenous cultures, this film offers an informative overview of the eclectic modern world of Mexican curanderismo.
The overall professional quality of Serpent and the Sun’s cinematography, its sympathetic and respectful introduction of various curanderismo traditions, and the charismatic personality of the maestro Ehe make this a documentary worth watching at least once. However, the necessarily brief treatment of a variety of curanderismo traditions—as opposed to an in-depth exploration of one specific tradition—limits the film’s ultimate usefulness for serious shamanic practitioners.
Timothy White is the founding editor of Shaman’s Drum, and he has a special interest in Mesoamerican curanderismo.
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