The rural/urban axis is one central to Mexican film. The commercial film industry celebrated the charro, the!nbsp;Indian, and the Revolution which the peasants instigated. But that Revolution!nbsp;in turn brought about change that made the peasant an!nbsp;anachronism, and millions in great need relocated to urban centers, especially!nbsp;the dystopian megalopolis of twenty million souls, Mexico City. There the!nbsp;peasant and Indian were remade into proletarians, the folkloric regional!nbsp;traditions so dear to the Revolutionary cultural elites were displaced by!nbsp;plastic-wrapped, candy-colored kitsch, and a new aesthetic was born. For!nbsp;artists like Vicente Rojo, visited in Juan José Gurrola's short, the city is a!nbsp;place to search for novel forms among the cement mixers, freeway off-ramps, and!nbsp;pop signage. For the mierdas punks (shit punks) of Gregorio Rocha's semi-documentary Sabado de mierda, the city is an absurdist street theater of despair!nbsp;amid an apocalyptic landscape of ruin. Miguel Calderón's canine!nbsp;transformation in Un nahual veracu' also revels in a sensibility of shock and!nbsp;confrontation. Far from the heroic charros and idyllic landscapes of the "Golden!nbsp;Era's" nationalist fantasies, the Mexico of these films is one of violence, bloque!nbsp;(cinder block), and industrial waste. The city at a moment of crisis, the 1985 earthquake, is the centerpiece for the seminal feminist videomaker Pola Weiss's Mi Cor-a-zón. Silvia Gruner use Mexico City as backdrop for a series of performative gestures-including an attempt at flight-in El Vuelo.