Paul Strand directed the 1934 Mexican film Redes over the course of a year in the town of Alvarado. The film was financed by the Mexican government's education department and intended to be the first in a series of educational films. Strand collaborated with many individuals, both Mexican and foreign, on the production, though there were also personal conflicts over credit. Redes was acclaimed upon its release but faced challenges in production due to Strand's inexperience with filmmaking and conflicts with others over his directorial approach.

1. PAUL STRAND in MEXICO

2. 
Weegee (Arthur Fellig). Marquee of the Apollo Theater in Harlem,
New York City, promoting The Wave. 1941

3. 
From September 1933 through November 1934, Strand
devoted himself almost exclusively to the conceptu-
alization, planning, and production of the film Redes,
released in English as The Wave and in French as Les
Révoltés d’Alvarado.1
Though controversial, the film was
acclaimed in Mexico and abroad at the time of its
release and is generally recognized as a classic in the
history of Mexican cinema.2
In recent years the film’s
musical score, composed by Silvestre Revueltas—a sem-
inal figure in the Mexican cultural renaissance of the
1920s and 1930s—has also gained increasing recognition
for its unique blend of classical and regional folk musi-
cal traditions.3
The film has endured the test of time, an
achievement all the more remarkable when we consider
the challenges involved in its creation. The story of
the making of Redes is an extraordinary one, involving
many conflicts, compromises, and failures, though it also
resulted in the tangible success of the finished film.
Financed by the Secretaría de Educación Pública
and initially intended to be the first in a series of edu-
cational films, Redes emerged from a collaborative effort
involving Strand and Carlos Chávez, along with some
of Strand’s acquaintances from the United States and
Europe, and several Mexican citizens, including the
local population of Alvarado. Many of this last group
remain unidentified, their presence recorded only in the
images projected on the screen.
Over time, the remarkable cooperation that was
so clear during the initial moments of the production
began to fray as personal conflicts arose along with
arguments over the precise attribution of credit for
specific tasks. Those credits have long presented some-
thing of a puzzle, but through a close evaluation of all
available documents concerning the film we may make
some extrapolations. The contract negotiated between
Strand and Jesús Silva Herzog (representing the SEP in
his capacity as assistant secretary of education) placed
the entire production “under the direction of Mr. Paul
Strand,” and gave Strand control over all the materi-
als and expenditures necessary to complete the film.4
In
addition to overseeing the production, Strand provided
his personal movie camera for the shooting of the film,
directed the cinematography, and wrote the initial ver-
sion of the story while participating in and supervising
subsequent revisions of the script.
According to Strand, the idea for the film occurred
to him after he and Agustín Velázquez Chávez made
a short visit to Alvarado5
(SEP records indicate that the
photographer was there from October 29 to November
12, 1933).6
After Strand drafted the original story of the
film, he circulated it for comments, initially to Velázquez
Chávez and Carlos Chávez, and later to a wider circle.
Strand’s friend Henwar Rodakiewicz traveled
with the photographer and Velázquez Chávez on that
exploratory trip to Alvarado, and then wrote the screen
treatment and shooting script based on Strand’s original
text before returning to the United States in December
1933 to fulfill a prior commitment with another producer.
After that venture failed due to insufficient financial sup-
port, Rodakiewicz returned to Mexico in June 1934, join-
ing the film crew in Alvarado to assist in the production
of specific scenes.7
As Strand wrote on November 26,
1933: “I sent for Henwar Rodakiewicz—the man who
made the little film that was shown at the ‘[American]
Place’ two winters ago—at the moment he is copying the
script—the original of which I wrote and which we have
added and subtracted from together.”8
As Rodakiewicz
recalled in 1975, he first met Strand in the late 1920s and
the two men maintained a lifelong friendship.9
In November 1933, upon his arrival in Mexico,
Rodakiewicz wrote to his friend the photographer
Ned Scott to say that he found Strand to be “terribly
depressed.”10
Rodakiewicz and Scott had met at the
Camera Club of New York, of which Strand had also
been a member. Together, Strand and Rodakiewicz
decided that Scott would be an ideal photographer to
document the making of the film by shooting produc-
tion stills. Scott traveled to Mexico at his own expense
and spent June–December 1934 there. Today, the Ned
Scott Archive is in possession of 109 negatives and 170
prints of these movie production stills. In December
1934, Scott made prints from the negatives and distrib-
uted them as gifts for members of the film crew.11
A
chain of events that will be discussed in more detail later
THE MAKING OFREDES CHAPTER FOUR
Ned Scott. Paul Strand and Akeley Camera. Production still
from Redes. 1934

4.  james krippner
in this chapter led to an uncertain number of Scott’s
film stills from Redes remaining in Mexico.12
Strand con-
sidered Scott’s stills, some of which are included in these
pages, to be “the finest set of still photographs I have
ever seen for any film,” while director Fred Zinnemann
dubbed them “classics.”13
When Rodakiewicz had to leave Mexico in Decem-
ber 1933, he suggested Zinnemann as his own replace-
ment.14
Already established as a cinematographer in
Hollywood, Zinnemann would here have his first chance
to direct the shooting of a film, inaugurating a long and
distinguished career as a film director.15
Years later he
recalled Strand as “a very serious man in his forties”
and his time in Alvarado as “a magical experience.”16
According to Zinnemann, Redes “played in art theatres
in the United States and became very well known in
Europe, particularly in France; and, as I understand it,
the Nazis burnt the negative—which was in Paris—so
prints are hard to come by.”17
Zinnemann’s claim against
the Nazis has not been verified, though the location of
the film’s original negative remains unknown.
Zinnemann spent seven months working in Alva-
rado on Redes; he was assisted by Emilio Gómez Muriel
(who took over for Julio Bracho after the latter left the
production precipitously).18
Zinnemann recalled in his
1992 memoir:
Paul Strand and I did not get on too well. While
nominally the boss, he was defensive about his lack of
production experience; but much more important was
the fact that he, as a stills photographer, saw films as
a succession of splendid but motionless compositions,
while I was doing my utmost to get as much movement
into scenes as possible.19
Indeed, Strand and Zinnemann feuded over proper
attribution for each other’s contribution to this film until
the end of their lives.20
In 1975 Rodakiewicz, who main-
tained close friendships with both men, wisely cautioned
that these personal conflicts and characterizations
should “be taken with a grain of salt.”21
In many ways, Zinnemann’s point about Strand
being a “stills photographer” was well taken. Parts of
Redes can indeed be seen as a succession of beautifully
composed still images—the close-up portraits of the
rugged fishermen and of the black-shawled, grieving
mother, the horizon of encroaching waves that provides
the film’s ending metaphor—these and other shots give
Redes its stunning visual resonance and evince the same
sensibility that Strand so carefully offered with his later
selection of images for Photographs of Mexico. At the same
time, the film’s rather languid pacing might be said to
betray the directorial mind of a still photographer:
Ned Scott. Film stills from Redes. Both 1934.
Left: Angry Fishermen
Right: Old Felipe and Antonio

5. chapter four: the making of redes
Poster advertising Redes. ca. 1935

6.  james krippner
Redes lingers insistently on those images that are par-
ticularly striking, weighing plotline momentum against
visual impact.
Guenther von Fritsch, at the time a resident of
Vienna, edited the film. Although he came to Alvarado
in June 1934 with Rodakiewicz and Ned Scott, the post-
production work on Redes seems to have taken place in
Mexico City.22
In New York, John Dos Passos and Leo
Hurwitz provided the subtitles for the English version of
the film.23
(While not unfaithful to the sense of the Span-
ish, the translated English dialogue is far more terse
than the original.) In a letter to Irving Browning of Sep-
tember 29, 1934, Strand noted that “Barbara Messler a
friend of mine from New Mexico came to keep the script
and has done much in cutting the picture.”24
Strand and
Messler—also known as “Bobby” Hawk—had a roman-
tic liaison during this period.25
Many of the actors in Redes remain anonymous,
though some were credited by name at the time of the
production. Made on a minuscule budget, the film was
to show the struggles of the fishermen of Veracruz as
they battle unjust economic and social forces, finally
realizing that banding together in a union is the only
way to improve their situation. The story revolves
around Miro, a young fisherman, who is ultimately
martyred to the cause. The role of Miro went to Silvio
Hernández del Valle, an accomplished athlete (he went
on to compete in the 1936 Olympics, helping Mexico
win a bronze medal in basketball) and a native of Vera-
cruz City. Hernández del Valle appears to have been
Ned Scott. Filming on the banks of the Papaloapan River,
Veracruz. Production still from Redes, 1934

7. chapter four: the making of redes
Advertisement for Redes, published in
Mexico’s La Prensa newspaper. July 12, 1936

8.  james krippner
a university classmate of Velázquez Chávez.26
Accord-
ing to Zinnemann: “A script of sorts existed and the
leading man, an athletic, clean-cut university student,
Silvio Hernández, had been chosen by Henwar and
Paul. Although not an actor, he did well, playing the
fishermen’s leader in fighting the boat-owners for the
chance of a better life.”27
The film premiered at the Teatro Juárez in Alva-
rado on June 4, 1936.28
Its first showing in the United
States (as The Wave) was at the Filmarte Theatre on West
58th
Street in New York City, on April 20, 1937. Accord-
ing to the Filmarte promotional materials—presumably
submitted by Strand:
Silvio Hernández who plays Miro, the leading char-
acter in “The Wave” is a student of the University
of Mexico. He left school for one year to work in
Mr. Strand’s production. Prior to “The Wave” he had
no acting experience whatsoever. Since his first appear-
ance before the camera Señor Hernández has returned to
the University, where he is now completing his courses.29
Despite his relative inexperience, Hernández
del Valle was the highest paid actor in the production.
Though budgets would be revised and it is not entirely
clear how much in wages everyone actually received,
at least one proposed tally indicates that the lead actor
received 360 pesos for two months’ work. Redes’s one
professional actor, David Valle González, seems to have
received 300 pesos altogether (less than Hernández del
Valle, though for only one month of work).30
González
savors the role of Don Anselmo, the evil acaparador—
literally a “miser,” but in this context a greedy, monopo-
listic fish buyer and the villain of the film. Rafael Hino-
josaplaysJuanGarcíaSánchez,thelocalpolitician,pawn
of the acaparador and Miro’s assassin. There was clearly
Left: Publicity brochure for the American premiere of
The Wave at New York’s Filmarte Theatre, April 20, 1937 .
Middle: French publicity brochure for Les Révoltés d’Alvarado (Redes), 1937.
Right: Publicity card for Redes, distributed by J. Liceaga in Mexico,
ca. 1936. Film still by Ned Scott

9. chapter four: the making of redes
a pragmatic and improvisational aspect to the casting;
the Filmarte document reports that “the politician is
actually [played by] a civil employee. He was sent by the
government to keep the books of the film project, under
Mr. Strand’s direction.”31
“El Zurdo,” an elderly fisher-
man who, in a moment of desperation, attempts to slash
the fishing nets with a knife, is played by Antonio Lara—
who was, according to the Filmarte brochure, “an old
friend of the Chávez family.”32
Felipe Rojas took the part
of Mingo, the patrón or foreman; Miguel Figueroa plays
Miguel; and other members of the cast—not mentioned
in the credits—included “Fogonero, Albino, Yi-Yi and
other fishermen.”33
The nonprofessional actors were
drawn from the local population of Alvarado, nearby
villages, or—as in the case of Hernández del Valle—the
state of Veracruz.
Frames and Contexts
The SEP employment documents indicate that Strand
made the transition from photography to filmmaking
during the period of September to December 1933.
Though he continued to be officially employed as an
elementary-school art teacher until mid-December, it
seems that he spent those months primarily working on
the conceptualization of what would become Redes.34
Velázquez Chávez was commissioned on September 25
by the SEP to work with Strand on the film.35
In January 1934, Strand signed a new contract
with the SEP to serve as director of the secretariat’s Ofi-
cina de Fotografía y Cinematografía (his signature on
the document is in the trademark green ink that would
become well known to collectors of fine photography
in the years to come).36
From the time of the signing of
that contract through the end of 1934, Strand was on-
site in Alvarado filming Redes.37
Redes was not the only film on the SEP’s docket;
indeed, the secretariat had a “Plan para la filmación de
peliculas educativas” (Plan for the production of educa-
tional films), a series that was to be shot over the course
of five years as part of a larger educational effort;38
Strand was to develop and oversee the production of
the entire series, though in the end Redes was the only
film produced. (It would seem that the larger film project
was eventually scrapped for financial reasons.) Given the
strong current of nationalism associated with the Mexi-
can Revolution, Carlos Chávez must surely have had to
justify bringing in a North American to take on a major
series of films about Mexico. He apparently conceived
of the series with Strand in mind as the ideal person to
make the first film, and to train Mexican citizens who
would then be responsible for subsequent productions.
As Strand wrote to Kurt Baasch on November 26, 1933,
from Mexico City:
Ned Scott. Film stills from Redes. Both 1934
Left: Miro Gets Paid
Right: Fish Buyers

10.  james krippner
As I think you know, Carlos was made Jefe of the
Departamento de Belles Artes some months ago. One
of the things he greatly wants to start is a program of
movies to be made—according to ideas we both agree
upon—Movies which would have a social significance
and meaning somewhat from the same point of view
that the group works from—He induced me to stay
and start the thing.39
Strand readily accepted the stipulation to his employ-
ment that he was to work with Mexicans in a collective
effort to master the techniques and technology of film-
making.40
Velázquez Chávez, Strand’s friend and Carlos
Chávez’s nephew, was to be a chief protégé.
As we look back from the perspective of close to
a century later, the optimistic tenor of that moment—
when a relatively new medium and technology seemed
to promise a utopian potential for transforming social
awareness—may appear somewhat naïve. Today, we
can clearly hear the didactic and rigidly ideological ring
to the language of the SEP’s “Plan”: the series of films
that Strand originally agreed to develop was intended
to “show in an objective way the production of wealth
within the current social regime” so as “to create social
and socio-economic consciousness.” In order to accom-
plish this, all the films in the series would unfold in a
sequence that passed in a linear way from “phenom-
ena of the physical and biochemical sciences to those
of the economic and social sciences, properly stated.”41
A seven-point plan outlined the themes that were to be
engaged in the films: Mexico’s natural resources; the
inhabitants’ ability to employ them usefully through
physical and intellectual ability; the regions of the
country and the need for transport, commerce, and
warehousing; the emergence of a class that dominates
industry and commerce; the rise of a working class and
of unions; and the emergence of a complex social order
that encompasses socioeconomic extremes (both “day
laborers and the great bourgeoisie”) as well as “other
classes with or against the bourgeoisie.” In the end, the
films were “to demonstrate in an objective manner the pos-
sibility of a social regimen whose justice is rooted in all
men working and all equally obtaining the satisfaction
of their needs.”42
An SEP summary of the work in progress provides
insights into Strand’s film during the time that it was
in production. This document sets forth specific details
as well as a sense of the ideological contours of the
project. (The film was originally titled Pescados [Fish]; it
was renamed in the final stages of production.)
The film “Pescados” has been made in diverse places
of the Port of Alvarado: it is conceived from a defined
social point of view and wants to show dramatic ele-
ments from the life of the Fishermen of the Mexican
tropical coast, genuine and characteristic in their aes-
Ned Scott. Film stills from Redes. All 1934
Left: Preparing the Net
Middle: Fish Weighing
Right: End of a Long Day

11. chapter four: the making of redes
Notice from the office of the
president of the Mexican
Republic, appointing Strand
director of the Oficina de
Fotografía y Cinematografía,
the photography and
filmmaking sector of the SEP’s
Departamento de Bellas Artes
(recto). January 10, 1934.
Next page: Verso of the same
document

12.  james krippner

13. chapter four: the making of redes
thetic sense. The actors, with the exception of the main
character, have been selected from the Fishermen of the
region and are characteristic types of the racial mixes
of [Mexico’s] East Coast. The “walk-ons” and
“extras” are people from the village of Alvarado and
from the banks of the Papaloapan River. Their par-
ticipation in the events that form the argument of the
film is like a projection of the life of this village. From
the footage that is of sufficiently good photographic and
technical quality, a selection is made of those scenes
that correspond to existing realities in the geographic
environment where the Fishermen’s daily life takes
place. The main character, who is not a professional
actor, was chosen in the State of Veracruz.43
In addition to confirming the socialist ideological
orientation of the SEP in this era and the inexperience
of the principal actor, Hernández del Valle, this passage
introduces an interesting racial dynamic. Though Redes
has sometimes been considered to be representative of
the “Indianist” tendency in Mexican cinema of this era,
the filmmakers were well aware of the distinctive racial
heritage of Alvarado and coastal Veracruz, where Afri-
can influences have made a significant impact within a
multi- and mixed-racial population.44
The words also
reveal an intent (not always fully realized) to provide a
realistic depiction of the problems of daily life at the
local level.
Strand later said of Redes: “The script really meant
a great deal to me since it grew out of my contact with
Mexico and my feeling about life in general.”45
His con-
tact with Mexico, where the Revolution’s multiple ten-
dencies and varied trajectories shifted to the left in the
1930s, also played an important role in shaping Strand’s
political viewpoint.46
Though Strand’s tendency toward
social awareness was heightening in the mid-1920s, he
became a full-fledged Marxist in Mexico, and remained a
Marxist for the rest of his life. (Indeed, when Zinnemann
arrived in Alvarado in January 1934 he found Strand to
be “the most doctrinaire Marxist I had ever met.”)47
As
Strand put it in a 1933 letter to Baasch: “I don’t know
whether I can be labeled a Communist but I find the
ideas of Marx which I have been reading very true to
me—an ideal to be sure far distant even in Russia—but
the only one left, that has hope in it for a decent human
life.”48
This political conversion partly explains the sto-
ryline in Redes; it does not, however, offer much help in
deciphering the conflicts, detours, and abuses that trans-
pired behind the scenes.
On-site in Alvarado
One can only imagine the impact of the arrival of
a film crew in what at the time was a relatively small
fishing village on Mexico’s Caribbean coast. Despite
the ideological clarity of the SEP’s instructions, the
realities of life and the practice of making a film under
existing constraints soon challenged the patience and
comprehension of both the film crew and the towns-
people. Strand’s “off-the-record” letters from Alvarado
to Carlos Chávez in Mexico City reveal that the making
of Redes was a far more contentious, disorganized, and
generally difficult process than one might expect from a
utopian experiment in collaborative filmmaking.49
Very early during the film’s production it became
clear that Strand’s desire to make an epic opus on the
scale of—or even surpassing—the work of Sergei
Eisenstein did not mesh with the SEP’s plan for relatively
straightforward and inexpensive educational documen-
taries. In communications with the SEP, Strand cited the
cost of Eisenstein’s films in testifying to the frugality of
his own efforts, raising the question of the relationship
between the two filmmakers.50
Though Strand would journey to the Soviet Union
in 1935 in order to meet with Eisenstein, their visits to
Mexico did not overlap chronologically. The Russian
director traveled to Mexico in December 1930 and
spent 1931 making a film with the proposed title Que
viva México! The project followed Eisenstein’s brief
encounter with Hollywood (and specifically a contract
with Paramount), which did not work out as planned.
In Mexico, Eisenstein shot some forty hours of foot-
age,51
though he ultimately lost control of the film to
his financial backers, Upton and Mary Craig Sinclair.
(In fact, Eisenstein never edited—or even saw—his

14.  james krippner
extensive Mexican work.)52
There are no references
to Strand seeing Eisenstein’s footage of Mexico, parts
of which were utilized (with Upton Sinclair’s permis-
sion) to make Thunder Over Mexico (1933) and Day of the
Dead (1934), directed by Sol Lesser and released while
Strand was in Mexico. Nonetheless, the great Russian
director’s influence is apparent in Redes, particularly in
the use of symbolic montage. And certainly there were
parallels in their lives and their politics, which led both
men through an artistic, political, and intellectual world
connecting the Soviet Union, Europe, the United States,
and Mexico.53
Another filmmaker whose work made an impres-
sion on Strand was the U.S. director Robert Flaherty,
whose Nanook of the North (1922) is often cited as the first
feature-length documentary film ever made (though
Flaherty is known to have staged some of the scenes);
he also directed the acclaimed Moana (1926), which has
since been dubbed a work of “docufiction.” In a 1933
commentary on film, Strand suggested that both these
works demonstrated Flaherty’s “immense gift for con-
tact with primitive peoples and for re-creating or finding
the elemental drama of their lives.”54
Cost overruns and production delays plagued Redes
from the start. By using amateur actors and real-life
settings as much as possible, the filmmakers hoped to
enhance the realism and didactic purpose of the film; the
need to contain costs also figured into this emphasis on
local participation. The film was a low-budget produc-
tion and the SEP administered the funding from Mexico
City, releasing installments of money every few weeks as
Strand submitted old receipts and new requests. Strand
had hoped to sell the crew’s share of the fish caught dur-
ing production (the filmmakers were hopeful that the
fishermen-actors playing fictional fisherman would take
in actual catch as they shot), and he planned to sell the
nets and boats purchased for the project after they had
finished, to help cover expenses.55
In practice, it proved
difficult to meet fiscal and administrative requirements—
in part because the cast members never did catch any
fish. An inordinate amount of Strand’s time was spent
justifying, obtaining, and documenting the use of funds.
On January 27, 1934, he wrote to Carlos Chávez
that they hoped to pay the fisherman 1.50 pesos a day,
the prevailing minimum wage, and to be finished before
the end of February, the start of the fishing season. How-
ever, he noted, they were running into “costly delays
that endanger the film.” He reported that the crew
had obtained a house: “four rooms—second story with
a balcony looking out over the lagoon—very grand—
quiet and private.” Unfortunately, that was all that they
were able to do, as they were “for the moment out of
funds.” Strand wanted a bank account established in
Veracruz, because “these fishermen are poor people and
must be paid daily.” As he stressed to Chávez, the actors/
fishermen liked to fish, and if they weren’t paid imme-
diately they didn’t enjoy watching others fishing while
they pretended to do so. Furthermore, he complained,
Julio Bracho, one of the Mexicans hired to work with
Strand, was late because he had missed the morning
train that day, though he was expected to arrive soon.
Apologetically, Strand confided to Chávez: “I hate to
bother you about these things that go wrong—you have
enough on your minds—But I have the feeling that there
is no one else who gives a damn.”56
All Strand’s letters
to Chávez are in English; his lack of ability to commu-
nicate in Spanish must have led to significant misunder-
standings on the local level.
Some of the residents of Alvarado saw an oppor-
tunity in the film production. On February 9, Strand
wrote to Chávez that “some fellows had a net, in poor
condition and tried to get a big price from us—the only
way out of that was for me to become a ‘fish buyer’ but
not an ‘acaparador.’ Antonio, as usual to the rescue.”
According to Strand, the filmmakers were very depen-
dent on Antonio Lara, the friend of the Chávez family
who played “El Zurdo.” Strand commented to Chávez:
“He is a jewel of a man—terribly important to us.” Lara
hired the men for the film, pointing out who was hon-
est and reliable and who was not. Initially, Lara’s home
address was also where Strand received mail from
Carlos Chávez, including all the materials from the
SEP pertaining to the film.57
Indeed, Strand thought
so highly of Lara that years later, in 1952, he asked his

15. chapter four: the making of redes
Stills from Redes

16.  james krippner
friends Clarence Weinstock and Elizabeth Timberman
de Weinstock to inquire after him when they visited
Veracruz; he learned from them that Lara had passed
away six years previously.58
In the end, Strand bought a boat and net for eight
hundred pesos and began to shoot Redes. He was frus-
trated by delays in seeing the results, as the film had to
be shipped to Los Angeles, where it was developed in
the Roy Davidge laboratories and then shipped back.
According to Zinnemann:
It took four weeks before we could see our rushes, pro-
jected on the white walls of the living room. There was
no electricity in town during the day and this paralyzed
the moviola we needed for editing. Fortunately, Henwar
had the idea of mounting it on a footpedal-operated
Singer sewing machine, with a flashlight illuminat-
ing the frame. It was the only way and it worked—
although I can’t say that it speeded progress.59
There were inevitable other problems, with the cameras,
film, sand, and salt air. On February 21 Strand requested
an additional lens. With some desperation, he also indi-
cated to Chávez that the first consignment of film shipped
to California had disappeared: “I hope whatever can be
done in Mexico to trace the box, is being done. It is a hellish
business, but I am determined to straighten it out, and to
get the film moving in both directions without stoppage.”
On a more positive note, he commented: “Yesterday we
continued shooting the funeral sequence with our crew,
40 extras, and 35 school boys, quite a crowd.”60
One of the more colorful letters today housed
in the Chávez archive is from Frank X. Moore of El
Paso, Texas—described intriguingly on his stationery
as a “Custom Broker Purchasing Agent, Receiving and
Forwarding Agent and Drawback Specialist.” Moore
apparently specialized in finding things that had been
lost in Mexico. Zinnemann recommended Moore to
Strand as someone who would be able to retrieve the
missing film; it seems that Hollywood movie companies
frequently employed him in this capacity. On February
20, Moore wrote:
Dear Mr. Strand:—my wire to you of the 19th has
no doubt been received long ago and I trust that by
this time you have raised plenty of hell and that by so
doing will eliminate much future trouble. It was nec-
essary for me to spend much time and I tried for two
days straight to get a definite answer from the Customs
Agent in Juarez and then had to tell them that if the
film was not crossed at once I was going to take it upon
myself personally to see that every damned one of them
got fired. It sure is hell to get any action out of these
birds and of all fool things to hold a shipment for—is
for the crossing charges and handling charges by the
National Lines office.61
Moore went on to provide a very detailed history of
Strand’s film along with a plan for avoiding future prob-
lems that involved a deposit of funds and finding a “big
shot” in Mexico to put pressure on Mexican customs
agents.62
Customs problems also slowed the return of
the developed film from the U.S. side of the border.63
On February 26, Strand opined: “In Hollywood they see
the ‘rushes’ the next morning, so you see what saintli-
ness is demanded of us—what patience. When I finish
this film I expect to have acquired a magnificent shin-
ing halo—that glows even in the daytime—and is very
pretty.”64
At the end of March, after yet another request
for funds to restart stalled production, Chávez wrote to
Strand: “Creative genius consists precisely in making
things of the highest importance out of nothing.”65
In addition to technical and budgetary issues, prob-
lems cropped up between the filmmakers and the local
population, and among the film’s team itself.66
After the
preliminary visit to Alvarado with Strand in November
1933, Agustín Velázquez Chávez remained in Mexico
City, apparently for health reasons—though Strand
would later claim that Velázquez Chávez had lost inter-
est in learning about cinematography.67
(SEP records
indicate that by April 1934 Velázquez Chávez was teach-
ing in Mexico City.)68
Julio Bracho, the other young Mexican that Strand
was supposed to train as part of his SEP stipulation,
never seemed to have much enthusiasm for the project

17. chapter four: the making of redes
(though he would later become a highly acclaimed
director in his own right). By March, it was clear that
personal antagonisms were developing. Strand—who
in January had complained of Bracho missing his train
and thus being tardy for work—now told Carlos Chávez
that Bracho had arrived late to the shoot from Mexico
City and then had left the project unexpectedly. Strand
was worried about the implications of one of the Mex-
ican nationals quitting. He wrote to Chávez: “I feel it
should be clear to people [ . . . ] that Bracho is taking
himself out of the work—and that we made every effort
to include and give experience to a Mexican—I regret
the whole thing. I like Bracho as a person. Still do.”69
A few days later, Carlos Chávez wrote to say that he had
spoken with Bracho, who had decided that he wanted
to work in Mexico City. Chávez told Strand that Bracho
would be replaced by Emilio Gómez Muriel, “whose
opinion ought to be taken very much into account in
those questions related to genuinely national or local
expressions of the film as much in the scenes themselves
as in the dialogue.”70
Though Gómez Muriel was rela-
tively young for the job, Strand wrote favorably about
him after the completion of the film, declaring: “His
work was so good that he has been given screen credit as
co-director of the action.”71
From this distance in time, it is impossible to know
whether Strand was a tyrant, or if the younger Mexican
crew members were simply immature or perhaps just
preferred Mexico City, or all of the above. The Mexican
members of the film crew also almost certainly resented
Ned Scott. Fisherman and Net. Film still from Redes. 1934

18.  james krippner
that this filmmaking opportunity—utilizing scarce state
resources—had been placed under the direction of for-
eign nationals, a grievance that appears to have become
more intense as tempers frayed over time. At any rate,
these incidents indicate that, despite artistic and political
convictions that were presumably shared by all, tensions
existed among the filmmakers and crew along national
and perhaps also generational lines.
The friction continued too between the filmmak-
ers and the residents of Alvarado. The leading actors
were paid as much as six times more than the villagers,
causing occasional protests. The townspeople had seen
Hollywood films (there were two small movie houses in
Alvarado), and they felt they should receive Hollywood
wages.72
At one point late in production, a group of fish-
erman claimed that the boats being used for the film had
been abandoned and asked to have them; their request
was denied, which did little to help reconcile the rift
between crew and locals.73
In the film, the character of Miro is murdered by
the politician Sánchez. The death of the young leader
serves as an incentive to overcome divisions among the
workers, and a new hero comes forth to guide them
to victory. According to Strand, Felipe Rojas, the local
man who played Mingo, the foreman of the fishing out-
fit, deeply wished that his character might be the new
hero to emerge from the ranks. Strand explained that the
foreman—who is in the pocket of the acaparador—was an
inappropriate choice for the new hero. A fisherman from
another village was chosen to play the man who leads
the workers to unionization. Infuriated, Rojas stormed
off the set—and shaved his distinctive beard in protest.
Since Mingo was a key character in the film, Strand then
had to delay shooting his scenes for a month, until the
actor was mollified and his beard had grown back.74
Other incidents held the potential for larger and
more severe consequences. The film was highly criti-
cal of local politicians whose corruption and despotic
tendencies had posed ceaseless problems at the time of
the Revolution. During the making of Redes, the state of
Veracruz was experiencing heightened labor strife and
political conflict, thus creating a potentially dangerous
situation for those involved with the production.75
Much
of the film work took place in secret. As Strand confided
to Baasch: “It is a story dealing with the fishing industry
in Vera Cruz. The lives of the fisherman—their struggle
against exploitation—I tell you this confidentially, as
even the people here—outside of Carlos and Bassols—
the Secretary of Education—don’t know precisely what
we are doing—So just say if you are asked that we are
making ‘educational pictures’ which is true.”76
In fact, the local cast members never heard the
character Miro’s most radical declamations. For exam-
ple, in one key sequence, Miro gives an impassioned
speech before the fisherman assembled on the sand
dunes: he criticizes the marketing monopoly of the aca-
parador, calls for the workers to organize and asserts that
poverty is not caused by God or nature. He emphatically
concludes the speech: “Poverty isn’t like the tide—WE
CAN FIGHT IT.” (Interestingly, the English subtitles in
this scene—though powerful—are particularly staccato
and provide only fractions of Miro’s Spanish oration.)
During these moments, the viewer sees a close-up of
Miro’s face rather than the crowd; thus it is likely that
most if not all the local fisherman had no idea of the full
implications of the film they were making. According to
Strand: “The rest of the cast never heard those speeches.
When Miro spoke to the group, he talked innocuously
of the need for more and better schools for the children
of the state of Veracruz. The real punch lines were all
taken in close-ups, away from the crowd.”77
Thus politi-
cal difficulties permeated the making of the film at the
local level. Though Strand repeatedly demonstrated his
sensitivity to nationalist sentiment in Mexico, in the end
political embroilments and obstacles were decisive fac-
tors in the fate of Redes.
According to Zinnemann: “The shooting was fin-
ished in October. The budget ran out at the same time
and our salaries stopped; there was no way of know-
ing if they would ever be resumed.”78
Although wages
ceased, postproduction work would continue in Mexico
City until the end of the year. This financial crisis and
the resulting abrupt end to the filming can be traced to
a political ordeal at the highest levels of the SEP, which

19. chapter four: the making of redes
reverberated all the way down to the film being made
in Alvarado. On May 9 Narciso Bassols resigned from
his post as director of the SEP amid numerous con-
troversies, including church-state conflicts over public
education and chronic infighting and intrigues within
the teachers’ union.79
Historian Mary Kay Vaughan
describes Bassols as “Marxist in thought [ . . . ] auto-
cratic in style.”80
He was replaced as the director of
the SEP by Ignacio García Téllez, who served until
he in turn was replaced in 1935, as the new regime of
President Lázaro Cárdenas consolidated its author-
ity.81
As part of the turmoil within the SEP—and the
backlash against Bassols—Carlos Chávez was replaced
as the secretariat’s director of the Departamento de
Bellas Artes by Antonio Castro Leal. Thus Strand and
the other non-Mexican members of the film crew in
Alvarado lost their key advocate and protector among
Mexico’s political and cultural elite.
With the turnover at the SEP came a close review of
ongoing projects, including the over-budget and behind-
schedule film being shot in Alvarado. The filmmakers
continued to work through the summer of 1934 and
well into the fall. Cost overruns and production delays
continued, and the SEP paid close attention to the film’s
troubles. Castro Leal assigned Velázquez Chávez to
return to Alvarado and write up a complete report on
the production, which he did in July 1934. The result
was a mandate from the SEP: the filmmakers were to fin-
ish production by December 1934 or face an immediate
cessation of funds.82
At this point, the responsibilities for finishing the
film were reconsidered and then reassigned by the SEP.
On September 30 journalist Fidel Murillo published an
interview with Agustín Velázquez Chávez in La Opinión,
a Spanish-language newspaper based in Los Angeles,
where Velázquez Chávez had been visiting as a repre-
sentative of the SEP. According to Murillo’s text, Mexico
was in the final stages of making a new film, the produc-
tion of which, he stated, “is by Velázquez Chávez; the
argument his also, in collaboration with Paul Strand, and
the direction under the charge of Emilio Muriel Gómez
[sic] and Fred Zimmerman [sic]. The music is original
by Silvestre Revueltas, performed by the Symphonic
Orchestra of Mexico.”83
The article came to Strand’s
attention when it was reprinted in the paper El dictamen
de Veracruz a few weeks later. Strand appears to have been
shocked and ultimately embittered by this turn of events,
and indeed demanded that Velázquez Chávez issue cor-
rections to the errata in the paper (though even the cor-
rections held that Velázquez Chávez was the author and
driving force behind the project).84
Shortly thereafter, the SEP gave Velázquez Chávez
full control over the production. Rather than firing
Strand, however, Castro Leal created a new cinema
department for the secretariat and placed Velázquez
Chávez in charge of it; he would now have final say
Ned Scott. Film stills from Redes. All 1934
Left: Army Takes Control
Middle: Army Descends
Right: Death of Miro

20.  james krippner
about the budget and all materials pertaining to the film.
As Strand wrote in 1935, Castro Leal
gave to this Seccion de Cine a large office and although
I asked three times and received three promises, he never
gave me any official residence whatsoever. My subordi-
nates, Emilio Gomez Muriel and Raphael Hinojosa,
without permission, conveyed all the records of my
Oficina to this Seccion de Cine as though they had
always been commissioned in this recently created and
illegal Seccion. It was a thoroughly destructive situa-
tion which Mr. Castro Leal thereby created, one which
he was both unwilling and unable to clarify.85
During this turbulent period, it seems, some of Ned
Scott’s film stills were mislabeled as Paul Strand pho-
tographs—causing much confusion some five decades
later among Strand collectors. One photograph, now
known to have been taken by Scott, was auctioned for
a high sum at Christie’s in 1991. Inscribed on the back
of the print: “This photograph by Paul Strand is from
my personal collection,” beneath which is the signature
“Agustín Velázquez Chávez.”86
Another major consequence of the SEP’s redistri-
bution of tasks on Redes was that the commission for the
film’s musical score was taken away from Carlos Chávez
and given to his former student (and Velázquez Chávez’s
friend) Silvestre Revueltas. Strand, who had amicable
relationships with both composers, appears to have been
genuinely taken by surprise by Chávez’s removal from
the project. That summer, he wrote to Chávez:
When [ . . . ] I heard through Agustín that Revueltas
wouldwritethemusic,Iconcludedthatitwasonlybecause
your compromisos [other commitments] made it impossi-
ble for you to come here, (you had written me somewhat to
that effect), that the change was made. Against my genu-
ine disappointment, was the feeling that we would have
another artist in Sylvestre [sic], not a second rater.87
Later, Strand wrote to García Téllez:
In spite of the fact that Velazquez Chávez knew this
perfectly well and I had again said to him before he
left Alvarado in August, “Of course Carlos Chávez
will write the music if he has time,” I received a
telegram from Velazquez Chávez shortly afterwards
saying Revueltas would write the music. I naturally
assumed that Carlos Chávez had been offered the work,
was unable to spare the time, and that the appoint-
ment of Revueltas was by mutual agreement. Not until
long afterward did I learn that such was not the case,
but that the work of writing the music for “Pescados”
had been offered directly to Revueltas and not to Carlos
Chávez at all. This was thoroughly dishonest both
toward Carlos Chávez and me—a dirty trick.88
Though Strand and Chávez’s friendship endured,
it appears that the wound from this incident took a long
time to heal for the composer. That fall, Chávez sent a
pained and accusatory letter to Strand complaining of
the turn of events. Strand responded with a telegraph
on November 4, 1934: “There is plenty of Trickiness
and Dishonesty Around As I now see but please Believe
I have Never Been Deliberately or Consciously Dis-
loyal to you.”89
According to Chávez scholar and biog-
rapher Gloria Carmona, Chávez never saw Redes until
she arranged a private viewing in her home in 1976—
perhaps not incidentally, the year of Strand’s death.90
In his short life, Revueltas would make a vital con-
tribution to twentieth-century Mexican music, including
songs and chamber pieces, as well as orchestral works.
The music for Redes was the first of several film scores he
would compose: in later years, he contributed the music
to Mexican films such as Vámonos con Pancho Villa! (Let’s
Go with Pancho Villa; 1935), El indio (The Indian; 1939), and
Bajo el signo de la muerte (The Sign of Death; 1939).91
The
SEP commissioned Revueltas to travel to Alvarado from
September 15 to November 6, 1934, to pursue the “nec-
essary studies” for the composition of the film’s music
(though, as the letter below indicates, this commission
might in fact have been approved only after the com-
poser had already made his trip to the region).92
While
there, Revueltas immersed himself in local traditions
Arabell Photo Studio. Silvestre Revueltas. ca. 1932.
The photograph is signed by Revueltas and dedicated
to the composer Candelario Huízar

21. chapter four: the making of redes
and also indulged the legendary alcoholism that would
claim his life in 1940: on March 8, 1935, Strand con-
cluded a letter to Carlos Chávez by asking him to give
his best to Silvestre and emphasizing, “I hope that he has
stopped drinking.”93
Nonetheless, Revueltas managed to
focus his energies enough to synthesize his experiences
into a profoundly moving musical composition. As he
wrote to Strand (in English) on September 16, 1934:
Dear Paul,
I have already some sketches of the music for “Pesca-
dos” which I think pretty good. I would rather say I
have the whole scheme of the work.
It is incredible how things are seen from [a] dis-
tance; with so much more clarity and emotion. Now far
away from the things I saw, the poetic quality, the force,
the beauty come out clearly, and with that unforgettable
charm of dreams. Was I there? Was I not?
It may seem ridiculous under the circumstances[;]
I was there. But yet there is not a detail, not a single
detail that has escaped me; not a single emotion that
has not been registered in my heart and brain. Just
at this moment I begin to orchestrate how things will
come out at the end, I don’t know, because I have too
much to do here with the orchestra, that I don’t know if
I will be able to go there again.
How are all the boys? I suppose they didn’t under-
stand me much. I am sorry I acted so foolishly. Say hello
to all of them. I think of you with admiration and love.
Silvestre 94
Ned Scott. Funeral Procession. Film still from Redes. 1934

22.  james krippner
Letter from composer
Silvestre Revueltas to Strand.
September 16, 1934

23. chapter four: the making of redes
The sound track would be added to the film in 1935 (at
which point the title Pescados was changed to Redes). At
the same time, Revueltas faced administrative pressure
to simplify the music, which some considered to be
overly complex, and “to introduce some easily remem-
bered romantic song.”95
The composer apparently
resisted this pressure, producing an original musical
score that is now recognized as a valuable legacy of his
troubled genius.
As music scholar Roberto Kolb Neuhaus has noted,
Revueltas was so pleased with the film and its score that
he personally directed a live performance of the music
with a screening of the film on October 7, 1937, in the
Palau de la Música in Barcelona. (The evening’s events
were arranged in support of the Spanish Republic:
also included on the program were Octavio Paz and
Maria Luisa Vera reading poems and a speech delivered
by Mexican writer and politician José Mancisidor.) The
music for Redes was also performed at the Palacio de Bel-
las Artes in Mexico City on December 13, 1940, at the
memorial service for Revueltas after his death.96
It would take years to sort out the dilemmas caused
by the tumultuous end to the making of Redes. In the
short run, Strand was given a month to finish the film
and then had to return to the United States. Correspon-
dences from Strand’s father provide partial insights into
this frenzied time, including the following passage from
a letter of December 7, 1934, in which he alludes to the
“new regime” of President Lázaro Cárdenas:
Dear Paul,
Just a few days ago I sent you a few lines to Alvarado.
I suppose it will be forwarded to you—well—I must
say yours of the 2nd
with the news of the abominable
situation caused by that nephew of Chávez, gave me
a bump. As you say intrigue and double-crossing so
often crops up in Governments, thereby creating situa-
tions, which makes it very hard. I am wondering why
Chávez can’t handle his nephew and influence him to
do the right thing. With the advent of the new regime
coming into power, it may be that after all, matters
will be straightened out. It would be too bad if the
Program from the May 12, 1936, concert of the Orquesta
Sinfónica Nacional at Mexico City’s Palacio de Bellas
Artes. Among the evening’s offerings was a performance of
Revueltas’s score for Redes

24.  james krippner
production did not go through as planned. But if they
don’t give you a square deal, of course you will know
what to do. You know your rights and unless they treat
you fairly and can’t or won’t appreciate what you have
done they don’t deserve any consideration at all and I
would quit and have nothing more to do with a bunch
like that. Meanwhile, try to take it without getting too
much worked up, for after all its [sic] just these nasty
situations that so many people stack up against—espe-
cially when dealing with a government.
On December 28, 1934, Jacob Strand wrote:
Well my boy I have had you in my thoughts constantly
since you wrote me last and of course I am wonder-
ing whether the situation regarding your production has
changed any. The new regime I thought might have
some bearing in the matter. Whatever happens don’t
forget we all have to “take it” sometime or other and
you should meet the situation with fortitude if they
finally give you an unfair deal. It is well to bear in
mind that I have made progress in my affairs in 1934.
The sequence concludes with a letter from January
15, 1935, which states: “Dear Paul—Received your let-
ter advising me of your departure from Mexico, which
did not surprise me considering the attitude that the
new regime took when they discharged your men.” In
this letter, Jacob Strand promises to “take good care of
the movie camera when it arrives” and acknowledges
his son’s notice that Carlos Chávez was coming to New
York: “We will do everything we can to make it pleas-
ant for him, realizing how nice he has been to you. If
Chávez will let me know, by wire, when he arrives (about
the time of his arrival) I will be glad to meet him with
the auto—and take him to the house.”97
That February, back in New York City, Strand com-
posed a long summary (thirteen typewritten pages) of
“the facts concerning the history of the filming of ‘Pesca-
dos,’” which he directed to Ignacio García Téllez at the
SEP.98
Notes written in the margins of this draft indicate
that Strand and Chávez likely composed it together, and
that Chávez translated it into Spanish. The text, writ-
ten in Strand’s voice, makes a persuasive case that the
young, possibly overambitious Velázquez Chávez inap-
propriately claimed more credit than was his due with
regard to the film. Strand used strong language, refer-
ring to “deceit,” “intrigue,” and the “destruction [of] a
spirit of disinterested cooperation.” He considered the
replacement of Carlos Chávez by Silvestre Revueltas—
a switch that seems to have been largely choreographed
by Velázquez Chávez—particularly insidious. He fur-
ther claimed that after Velázquez Chávez gained control
of the film’s budget, Strand was unable to pay the for-
eign crew members’ wages or travel expenses—indeed,
Rodakiewicz and Zinnemann had to borrow money
to get home. Once back in the United States, Strand
paid several hundred dollars for camera repairs out of
his own pocket.99
The tone of the document is distinctly
chagrined and understandably disillusioned.
Whether or not this letter made a strong impact at
the SEP, ultimately Strand would receive his due credit
as the creator of Redes. In the archives of the Center for
Creative Photography in Tucson there is a framed letter
from President Lázaro Cárdenas to Strand, written on
January 3, 1938.
Esteemed Sir and Friend,
When the film Redes was finished, I had the
opportunity to see a screening of it; I admired in it
the indisputable directorial talent, the exceptionally
beautiful photography, and the vigorous social aware-
ness. I consider it just to write to you, the Director of
the film and photographer of most of its scenes, to
congratulate you for this work, whose merits have been
warmly acknowledged in this country, as a proper and
new artistic interpretation of regional landscapes and
secular customs.
Without further ado, I remain faithfully yours,
Lázaro Cárdenas100
Though we cannot know with certainty what led
Cárdenas to write this conciliatory letter, an educated

25. chapter four: the making of redes
Letter from President of
Mexico Lázaro Cárdenas to
Strand. January 3, 1938

26.  james krippner
guess is that Carlos Chávez, despite his personal disap-
pointment at losing the commission for the film’s musi-
cal score, worked behind closed doors to ensure that
Strand received proper acknowledgment in Mexico for
his work on Redes.
More than a year later, on April 2, 1939, Strand
wrote to Chávez saying that he profoundly appreci-
ated the letter from Cárdenas. Undeterred by all that
had transpired during the course of making Redes,
Strand noted that a friend had suggested making a
film about the great Mexican revolutionary Emiliano
Zapata. He wrote: “Some day I will like to make this
film in Mexico, but well, by means of people like you and
Miguel [Covarrubias] and a group capable of making a
great heroic documentary. What do you say?”101
Alas, a
Strand-Chávez-Covarrubias film on Zapata never mate-
rialized and all three artists moved on to other projects.
And so ended what Carlos Chávez would later call “Paul
Strand’s Mexican chapter.”102
Coda: On Truths and Fictions
In a world in which human exploitation is so general
it seems to me a further exploitation of people, however
picturesque, different and interesting to us they may
appear, to merely make use of them as material.
—Paul Strand, 1936103
The line between truth and fiction frequently blurs
when we attempt to recover the past and construct
Ned Scott. Fishermen Await Speeches. Film still from Redes. 1934

27. chapter four: the making of redes
significations in the present. To invoke the words of
Susan Sontag again: “Socially concerned photographers
assume that their work can convey some kind of stable
meaning, can reveal truth. But partly because the pho-
tograph is, always, an object in a context, this meaning
is bound to drain away.”104
History, like art, is too com-
plex and too human a process for anything like objective
truth. Recognizing this introduces a useful and neces-
sary note of caution into our efforts to reconstruct the
past, though it does not preclude a search for meanings
and the assertion of tentative “truth claims.”
For Strand, this problem—which he had already
encountered as a still photographer—appears to have
intensified as he moved into filmmaking. Two key
moments in Redes demonstrate how even a proponent
of objective “straight” photography like Strand could
choose to ignore one reality—and even dissemble—in
order to create a powerful comment on another. In the
film’s fishing scene, a joyful harvest supposedly takes
place, though a simple deconstruction of the action
reveals that the fishermen did not actually catch any
fish. In fact, Redes’s longest production delay occurred
because the fish simply did not run in Alvarado that year.
Finally,indesperation,Strand,Rodakiewicz,Zinnemann,
Gómez Muriel, and probably Antonio Lara scoured the
countryside, purchasing all available live fish. According
to Strand: “We had to keep the haddocks alive in a tank
while we rehearsed the players [ . . . ]. It wasn’t easy.
Lots of fish gave up the ghost, and the smell was unbear-
able. When the lads were rehearsed, we put the surviv-
ing fish in the nets, which were then presumably hauled
up from the gulf.”105
That fishing scene is emblematic of the over-
whelmingly masculine tenor of this entire venture.
Despite multiple revisions of the script, all the filmmak-
ers agreed that this scene must include the “enormous
and strong naked chest of a robust fisherman of Alva-
rado,” to reveal something “simple and elemental,” and
“of great physical force.”106
The fact that the muscular
chest and athletic body of Silvio Hernández del Valle,
as Miro, contrasted sharply with those of many of the
overworked and malnourished fishermen of Alvarado
was lost on the filmmakers (as, apparently, was the homo-
erotic aspect of all those muscular arms, bare chests, and
strong legs intertwined with fishing nets).107
More troubling questions about the gap between
filmic image and lived reality, and about class and gen-
der politics—those of the film and, by extension, of
Strand, the SEP, and even the Mexican Revolution—
are raised in Redes’s most powerful sequence. Toward
the start of the film is the scene of the funeral for
Miro’s young son, who died because his father could
not afford basic medical care. This painful outcome of
his inability to provide adequately for his son is what
radicalizes Miro and sets off the story’s chain of events.
Accompanied by Revueltas’s haunting music, a lengthy
procession slowly carries the small casket out of the vil-
lage to the cemetery. There the townspeople give the
boy a traditional burial. Miro tosses the first shovelfuls
of dirt on the casket before furiously denouncing the
injustice of the situation.
On the way to the cemetery, the procession passes
the child’s grieving mother, played by a local woman
named Susana Ortiz Cobos,108
dressed in black but
apparently too distraught to accompany the casket. In
an interview from 1937, after the film had been released
in the United States, Strand commented on the woman’s
role in the film with surprisingly frank brutality:
Everybody who has seen the picture [ . . . ] has remarked
on the talents of that woman. So far as I know, she
hasn’t any more talent than this ash-tray. It was purely
accidental. It so happened that, the morning we shot
that sequence, she had been beaten up by her husband.
Or, rather, let me put it this way: One fine morning,
when she had been beaten up by her husband, we
decided to shoot the sequence. [ . . . ]
I couldn’t prevent the beating—I assure you it
was done in private, behind my back—and there was
no harm in taking advantage of it, was there? We
needed this sequence. We had rehearsed it innumerable
times. The girl, whom I picked merely for her looks,
was stolid, cold, unimaginative. But on the morning
when she had been smacked, she had just the right

28.  james krippner
expression. She was terribly unhappy, poor thing. She
looked as though she had lost her dearest friend. That
was just what I wanted and we made the sequence.109
After Strand praised her work on the scene, Ortiz
Cobos developed what he termed “a fine case of tem-
perament.” Like the other residents of Alvarado, she
had seen Hollywood films in the town’s two small cin-
emas, and now considered herself a star. Apparently,
she was also troubled by gendered discrepancies in
pay. One version of the film’s budget indicates that the
“fisherman’s wife” was to be paid a total of sixty pesos:
thirty pesos a month for two months’ work.110
Another
budget had her receiving only one peso a day for fifteen
days. In any event, she was paid far less than the pro-
fessional male actors—less, too, than the amateur male
actors. Even the child who plays the “young boy of
the village”—though he received a lower daily wage—
earned more overall (34.50 pesos for forty-six days).111
According to Strand:
After the funeral sequence, she began to balk at her sal-
ary. She told me she was the only woman in the cast,
the star of the film, and demanded fifty pesos a day.
There was no money to pay anybody fifty pesos, or any-
thing like it. We had planned to have a scene at Miro’s
house after the funeral, but I had to cut it on account of
our little Garbo. That’s the reason she appears in only
one sequence.112
Ortiz Cobos was never named in the film credits or
promotional materials. Given Strand’s views and his
apparent disgust with the idea of making use of sub-
jects—people—as “material,” his actions and attitude
here are ironic to say the least.
At the level of theory, the story of the making of Redes
provides ample evidence of the tensions, anxieties, and
contradictions inherent in even the most well-intentioned
work of social investigation—as acutely seen in the gap
between image and reality with regard to the actress who
played the fisherman’s wife. As for Strand and his per-
sonal motivations and choices, it would seem that, in this
instance at least, his intense creative ambition resulted in
a failure to live up to his own artistic and political ideals.
Nonetheless, over the course of two years, Strand,
working with an array of cohorts, created an extraor-
dinary visual archive of Mexico in the period 1932–34.
His photographs and film of this time provide a record
of the ideological concerns and artistic practices of an
era and place, informed by Strand’s unique vision and
his evolving understanding of the relationship between
photography and cinema.
The seminal experience of creating Redes shaped
his perception of Mexico incontrovertibly, and that per-
ception in turn would impact Strand’s subsequent proj-
ects—including his 1936 work in Canada’s Gaspé (where
he turned his focus to another fishing village), and of
course, the choices he made when compiling the images
for his 1940 portfolio Photographs of Mexico.113
Strand’s work in Mexico also brought him to a
newly mature engagement with place—with the concept
of creating what he later called “a kind of portrait of
a land and its people.”114
This engagement resulted in
the unique visual archive reproduced in these pages.
It would continue to intensify in Strand’s work for the
remainder of his life.

29. chapter four: the making of redes
Ned Scott. Production still from Redes showing Paul Strand (behind
camera), Henwar Rodakiewicz (seated to Strand’s right), Barbara
Messler (in prow of boat), Fred Zinnemann (seated, without shirt),
and others. 1934

30. 
This volume brings together a collection of photographs,
a film whose original negative has been lost, and scraps
of paper preserving details of business and personal life
to craft a narrative about Paul Strand’s years in Mexico.
In compiling these materials, the goal has been to investi-
gate the meaning and relevance of Strand’s work, and by
extension the socially concerned art of the 1930s, to our
twenty-first-century world. Certainly these documents
and works are useful sources of historical evidence; they
may also provide inspiration—and a cautionary tale—
for new engagements, both political and artistic.
It was a period of myriad complications in Mex-
ico. Strand’s time there was filled with relationships
that challenged, even while reinforcing, social divisions
of class, ethnicity, gender, and national identity. Many
of his interactions were fraught with enduring human
problems of ambitiousness, corruption, abuse of power,
and fierce competition for scarce resources. On the other
hand, Strand’s 1932–34 sojourn was also characterized
by fruitful collaborations across the U.S.-Mexico border,
an abiding friendship with composer Carlos Chávez,
and many inspiring instances of individual sacrifice for
a greater good.
Despite Strand’s resolutely “objectivist” stance, his
images of Mexico must certainly be read as subjective
impressions that provide unique, probing gazes at the
complex realities of that time and place. His choices—
what to place before the lens and when to snap the shutter,
his editorial eye in selecting which negatives to transform
into prints and which prints to release into circulation—
nonetheless render a profoundly valuable chronicle of
the distinctive local landscapes and architecture, the
faces and habits of rural populaces, impoverished com-
munities, and the persistence of fervent religiosity in the
decades following the armed phase of the Mexican Rev-
olution. Indeed, the images engage the fraught question
of the very possibility of “objective” photography.
The constructed nature of Strand’s realism is even
more pronounced when we consider the film Redes. As
we have seen in the previous pages, the coherent nar-
rative presented in the finished version of the film is
both complemented and complicated by the story of
its making. The archival materials pertaining to Redes
bring to light dense networks of patron-client relation-
ships, bureaucratic infighting, and altercations between
the local population and the Mexican and international
elite involved in producing the film. They also speak to
the era’s highly paternalistic and overwhelmingly mas-
culine ethos, which seems to have been substantially
embodied in the team that created Redes.1
(Strand’s
exploitation of an actual incident of physical abuse of
an actress—an event of which he made use to produce
a potent image of maternal mourning in the film—is a
particularly troubling example of the prevalent indif-
ference to the experience of women.) Finally, the film—
like the photographs—raises the provocative issue of
the relationship between artistic creativity and political
commitment.2
But even as we acknowledge the irony of these ethi-
cal shortcomings and creative tensions, it is indisputable
that Redes and its musical score are exceptional works
of art and vital artifacts of the time and place. The fact
that the film was completed at all testifies to the perse-
verance of the local population and the film crew, as
well as to Strand’s own extraordinary personal drive and
stubborn refusal to quit in the face of countless chal-
lenges, financial, bureaucratic, and personal. The film’s
central message—of the necessity of labor organization
in the midst of global economic crisis—was as pertinent
and controversial in the 1930s as it is today.
Redes was enthusiastically received in 1936 when
it opened in Mexico, where it became a proud symbol
of national achievement. “Real social justice!!” touted
one flier in large print—claiming the work as “a truly
national film.”3
Another Mexican advertisement sought
to entice foreign audiences by announcing (in decidedly
unpolished English):
Wellcome Tourists
You are cordially invited to see the first real Mexican
Film entitled “REDES”
nature in all its grandure;
no sets, no make ups, nothing fake.
A drame of the typical fishers’ life.4
PAST AND PRESENT conclusion

31. conclusion: past and present
Redes also garnered positive reviews in France and raves
across the United States, where it was released in 1937.
Writer Archibald MacLeish noted: “I have never seen a
film in which the fidelity to the subject and the respect
for the materials were more moving or more eloquent,”
and called the film “a magnificent artistic achievement.”5
Clifford Odets dubbed Redes a “distinguished” work,
and acknowledged the obstacles involved in its produc-
tion: “The Wave will come as a surprise to those who had
no idea such a film could be made.”6
Not surprisingly,
the Daily Worker had nothing but praise for Redes, which
it classified as “the most significant labor film made in
America [sic].”7
And Hollywood leading man Alexander
Kirkland—himself of Mexican descent—wrote an effu-
sive letter to Strand, saying that the film was
the only true representation of Mexico I have ever
seen on the screen, or for that matter in any art-form.
[ . . . ] Redes is that trinity felt in the rare case of
master-piece, Absolute Understanding, Selection and
Translation. I make no apologies for my lack of apt
phrases with which to express my gratitude. Redes
needs words of praise new-coined.8
There were of course also dissenting voices among
U.S. audiences. Frank S. Nugent, writing in the New York
Times, complained of the film’s “artiness riding heavily
on the left wing,” and noted that it was “an interest-
ing photographic album but a dull motion picture.”9
Life magazine gave Redes several pages of coverage,
pegged with the headline “An American Photographer
Does Propaganda Movie for Mexico.”10
Nonetheless, in
1939 the film received an award from the Council for
Pan American Democracy (a liberal group chaired by
anthropologist Franz Boas) for its efforts to improve the
lives of disadvantaged workers.11
Flyer inviting tourists to view Redes at the Cine Principal
in Mexico City. 1936

32.  james krippner
Letter from Alexander Kirkland, Mexican-
American film actor, to Strand. Date unknown

33. conclusion: past and present
After Redes, filmmaking would occupy much of
Strand’s attention for the next ten years. In 1935 he vis-
ited the Soviet Union to meet Sergei Eisenstein, and
in 1935–36 participated in the production of the docu-
mentary The Plow that Broke the Plains, in collaboration
with Leo Hurwitz and Ralph Steiner. Beginning in 1935,
Strand worked with the radical filmmakers’ collective
Nykino, which he helped to reconceive as Frontier Films
in 1940; through this organization he and Hurwitz made
the staunchly pro-union film Native Land in 1942, con-
demning documented acts of right-wing paramilitary
violence throughout the United States.12
Strand had a
brief stint in Hollywood in 1944, making films for the U.S.
Department of Agriculture and the Navy, after which he
moved permanently back into still photography.13
These were the years of Strand’s greatest accep-
tance by the political powers in the United States. In
1944 he orchestrated the production of an eighty-foot-
long photographic mural for the campaign to reelect
Franklin D. Roosevelt for a fourth term; it was exhibited
at New York’s Vanderbilt Gallery.14
In the Paul Strand
Archive is a memorandum of August 31, 1944, from the
Independent Voters’ Committee of the Arts and Sci-
ences for Roosevelt—a lobbying group established to
support FDR’s reelection—noting that Strand had been
elected Chairman of the Photographic Committee.15
With the memo is an invitation stating: “The President
and Mrs. Roosevelt request the pleasure of the company
of Mr. Strand at a buffet luncheon on Friday, January
19, 1945, at one o’clock,” along with an invitation to the
presidential inauguration on January 20, 1945.16
Of course, the political winds in the United States
shifted dramatically all too soon, as the Cold War inten-
sified and the House Un-American Activities Commit-
tee undertook its infamous campaign to rid the United
States of the “scourge of Communism.” On December 4,.
1947, the Photo League of New York, an organization of
which Strand served on the advisory board, appeared on
a blacklist of “subversive” organizations that was released
by Attorney General Tom Clark.17
This made it difficult
to find a publisher for Strand’s Time in New England, which
combined his photography with text by Nancy Newhall
(the book was finally published by Oxford University
Press in 1950). According to historian John Rohrbach:
“Time in New England celebrates the liberty to dissent,
whether under the aegis of Quakerism, abolitionism, or
the rights of labor. [ . . . ] This was a powerful message to
be delivering in a year that saw Senator Joseph McCarthy
“An American Photographer Does Propaganda Movie for Mexico.”
Featured in Life magazine. May 10, 1937

34.  james krippner
announce his possession of a list of 205 State Depart-
ment Communists, and at a time when government loy-
alty oaths had long become standard fare.”18
In 1951, angered over the destruction of the careers
of many of his friends, and facing increased scrutiny for
his own political views and commitments, Strand chose
voluntary exile in France.19
In September 1953, a review of The Wave that had
appeared in the Daily Worker three years earlier was noted
by a Federal Bureau of Investigation analyst and sent to
the director of the organization, to be included in Strand’s
FBI file. Among other things, the review stated:
Produced in Mexico during the late 1930s, “The Wave”
was directed by Paul Strand, who was later to direct the
famous documentary [sic] “Native Land,” along with
Fred Zinnemann, the future director of “The Seventh
Cross.” With the aid of the most outstanding photog-
raphy, and a hauntingly beautiful musical score by the
famed Mexican composer Sylvestre [sic] Revueltas, the
film tells the story of a strike among the fisherman in
a small Mexican village. The theme of labor unity
has seldom if ever been so graphically presented as it
is here.20
The heavily redacted Strand file also includes the ana-
lyst’s comment: “Strand was awarded a prize for his
work on the Mexican film, ‘The Wave’, by the Council
for Pan-American Democracy (cited as Communist by
the Attorney General).”21
Though he returned to the United States for short
stints, Strand would never move back: he maintained his
principal residence in France until his death in 1976.
It seems fitting to bring this text to a close with a quote
from Paul Strand. On October 7, 1934, in Alvarado, the
photographer sat down to compose a letter to his friend
Ted Stevenson. One can imagine darkness at the end
of a hard day. Much time, money, and effort had been
spent on the Redes project, and the finished film was still
only a distant hope. Strand confided to Stevenson:
My life has been such a turmoil, this job so hard—so
exhausting—
Such a fight every inch of the way—obstacle after
obstacle—such frequent critical times . . . this film has
for the time sucked me dry—a year in this little tropi-
cal fishing village—heat and bugs—a thousand other
things (sounds like self-pity perhaps) but I am so God
damned tired inside (more than out) that it makes all
that I do just like pulling up myself by the boot-straps.
. . . It is a tough problem we are up against, those
of us who can no longer live in ivory towers of one sort
or another. . . . I have come to the point where I believe
that any young artist who is not aware of the human
struggle—economic and political—which overshadows .
. . every part of the world today—is strangely outside the
main currents of life—yet to be an artist within those
currents—well that is the new esthetic problem.22
As we know, even with so many odds against him,
Strand persevered to create an extraordinary visual
archive of Mexico in the 1930s, in both film and pho-
tographs. He would go on to demonstrate his awareness
of the “human struggle” over the next forty years, with
several films and an extensive body of remarkable still
images. Strand’s combination of art and social documen-
tary, expressed with new maturity in Mexico, would be
refined in subsequent photographic studies created in
the United States, France, Italy, the Outer Hebrides of
Scotland, Egypt, Romania, Morocco, and Ghana.23
In this sense, Strand’s time in Mexico—in addition to
resulting in a visual legacy that has transcended both the
test of time and the shifting winds of critical commen-
tary—was a pivotal moment in the artistic trajectory of
one of the great modernist photographers of the twenti-
eth century. These years helped lead Strand to address
and engage the “esthetic problem” he had set for himself:
how to operate and succeed as an artist within the larger
currents of human life.
Paul Strand. Man with hoe, Los Remedios. 1933.
From Photographs of Mexico, 1940 edition

35. THIS IS THE RUNNING FOOT