How does it feel to be a gay man in an ubermasculine, macho culture in a province of Mexico? This is the central question that filmmakers Efraín Mojica and Rebecca Zweig ask in their hybrid documentary Jaripeo, which was screened in Sundance’s NEXT strand. This inquiry may seem antiquated in politically correct Europe, where LGBTQ rights are lightyears ahead; however, the film is still an engaging, interesting watch and doesn’t commit the sin of exoticising either the characters or their environment.

The titular jaripeo is a traditional rodeo festival, embedded in the culture of rural Mexico, and usually takes place around Christmas. It has all the airs of a carnival – people dress up, drink hundreds of litres of alcohol, dance, and touch each other in ways they wouldn’t normally, because of heteronormative rules. The world is glammed up by wide lenses and footage shot with a Super 8 camera. The result is alluring, sexy and slightly unrealistic.

The world of the jaripeo is contrasted with the calmness of the hills and valleys, as well as the stillness of a village in the back of beyond. We also hear some very intimate confessions from Noe, who is both macho and queer, and Joseph, a stylised diva type, who recount what it’s like to be gay in this community. They discuss the norms, question which parts of the traditional lifestyle they want to preserve, and which ones they want to exclude from their identity and values. What seems to pose a serious dilemma for Noe is that if he rejects the morals and standards altogether, it’s like he would be rejecting his origin and birthplace.

There are also some highly stylised sections that represent their inner dream and fantasy worlds. Mojica and Zweig are detail-orientated – they show nails, hands, and jaripeo preparations and accessories, but don’t lose sight of the big picture. They don’t really go that deep in their investigation of the community, which seems to quietly accept the queer minority as long as they keep things discreet. However, this artistic choice is not detrimental to the movie at all – through their perspective and their interpretation of how the protagonists see the world, we become closer to this place that, as Noe says, has remained hundreds of years in the past compared to other regions.

A key conversation with one of the protagonists takes place in his car; he is looking out at the valley below him and talks about his experiences. We only see his eyes in the rearview mirror. It’s not just an aesthetic choice; it’s also a great metaphor for queer life in the village – some things can’t be said or admitted to people’s faces, even if they’re an open secret.

The only problematic part of the movie is the fact that the rodeos use animals for the purposes of human entertainment; however, no animal cruelty was observed by the keen cameras. It clearly shows that in this world, muscles, domination and things traditionally regarded as “male” are to be celebrated, even if the underbelly is much softer. At one point, Noe observes that men can be closer and more intimate with each other, of course, with the assistance of booze.

Jaripeo ultimately functions not as a manifesto, but as a mood piece, a sensitive portrait of people suspended between inherited masculinity and emerging self-definition. Mojica and Zweig never claim to solve their protagonists’ contradictions; they simply give them space to breathe, which is where the film finds its most convincing truthfulness.

Jaripeo is a collaboration between the USA, France and Mexico, produced by Survivance and JCPR&C.