Una noche de posada review: A dusty, weirdly charming silent short

If you have twenty minutes and a deep love for scratchy, forgotten silent films, Una noche de posada is absolutely worth your time. But if you can't stand shaky cameras and actors who look like they are shouting at a brick wall, you should probably skip this one. 🍿

I stumbled on this rare Mexican silent short late last night, and honestly, it felt like finding a ghost in my laptop. It is incredibly raw.

Alfonso Vergara Andrade basically did everything here—he wrote it, directed it, and stars as the main traveler who just wants a place to sleep. The plot is incredibly simple, almost like an old campfire story.

This guy shows up at a dusty inn during a storm, and everything that can go wrong with his room goes wrong. There is this one incredibly funny scene where he tries to sit on a wooden chair, and the chair just... wobbles like it has a life of its own.

He stares at the chair for a solid ten seconds with this look of pure betrayal. It is the kind of specific, weird human moment that you never see in modern movies because it would get edited out.

The print I watched was in rough shape, with black lines running down the screen like heavy rain. At times, the screen gets so dark you can only see Andrade's giant white mustache twitching in the shadows.

It reminds me a bit of another obscure Mexican film from around that era, Una vida por otra, but with way less crying and way more silly physical comedy. I love how these old movies don't care about making perfect sense.

A random dog literally walks across the back of the set at one point, and nobody even tries to stop it. 🐕 You can tell they only had the budget for one take for most of these scenes.

Andrade's acting is super dramatic, like he is trying to reach the back row of a giant stadium that isn't actually there. His hand gestures are so wide he almost smacks the candle off the table in the background.

I did notice that the ending feels incredibly abrupt, almost like they just ran out of film. He just kind of shrugs, wraps his blanket around himself, and the screen goes black.

It is definitely not a masterpiece, but it has this dusty, honest charm that is hard to find now. If you're into film history, or just want to see a guy fight a wobbly piece of furniture, give it a go.