Modestly passable film with a deceptive title.

Okay, so this film is better than what we have come to regard as typical for Mexican films: there are no wrestlers in masks, no druglords, no guys in charro suits.

It tries to be some sort of art film, in which the wisdom of the ancient village culture triumphs over the confusion of the city, something like that.

It is not about Japan, just like Brazil was not about Brazil. But in this film they don't play a song called Japon at the end, and any similarities to anything Japanese at all.

It seems that the last five minutes or so in which the camera pans the trainwreck, rather than showing us an actual trainwreck, was done because there was no money to show a trainwreck. That part deems to have worked out okay.

There is virtually no action, not much of a plot, and the characters are not terribly intriguing: we never know why the central character wants to commit suicide, or why he feels it necessary to go to this remote village to do it. Still, it did hold my attention until the end, despite having to watch prolonged scenes in which nothing happens and which do not seem to serve any purpose.