07 · 23 · 26

Elsa Aguirre (1930-2026) and THE LEAGUE OF GIRLS

Rafael Aviña

In the twilight of the nineties, Somos magazine was, undoubtedly, one of the most successful and prestigious periodicals that, month after month, published outstanding approaches to cinema through biographies and/or general features about the Golden Age of Mexican cinema. Such was the impact of its circulation that each month its issues were presented at Cineteca Nacional, accompanied by the screening of a selected film and the presence of renowned personalities from Mexican cinema—events that always drew a full house. By the time September 1999 came, the director of Somos magazine, Macarena Quiroz, asked me to present the issue dedicated to Elsa Aguirre, which also included a couple of special segments about her sister Alma Rosa Aguirre and the songwriter and composer Manuel Esperón.

Initially, I doubted, but stronger were my curiosity and admiration, for it would be my opportunity to present one of the greatest divas and beauties of Mexican acting, who would make an appearance that night. Back then, Elsa Aguirre was about sixty-nine years old, although she actually looked at least twenty years younger. As I myself witnessed in the brief conversation we had beforehand, her splendor, sensuality, and charisma that the screen captured didn’t quite measure up to the experience of being only inches away from her. Things were going perfectly until I mentioned her role in Algo flota sobre el agua (Dir. Alfredo B. Crevenna, 1947). At that instant, everything seemed to stop, like in a suspense movie. I brought up this scene in which Arturo de Córdova keeps his eyes on her while she dives into the river, and I said that everyone—or at least I—would have liked to see through the actor’s eyes that incomparable moment of Mexican cinema.

Elsa Aguirre opened her eyes in astonishment and, all of a sudden, she smiled and burst into laughter. I couldn’t help blushing in a way never seen before, and the entire audience cheered that sincere laughter coming from one of the most distinguished women of Mexican culture and the undisputed queen of a cinephilia still struggling to stay alive.

When Mexican cinema was rising into what would be its most prosperous era, all kind of stars and beauties came onto the scene, but nobody possessed a charm as unique and special as Elsa Aguirre’s—a woman born in Chihuahua, Mexico, who made her film debut next to her equally lovely sister, Alma Rosa Aguirre, in El sexo fuerte (1946). Very soon, audiences and producers became aware of the impossibility of reducing Elsa to vamp roles; moreover, Elsa stood beyond all themes and directors—whether directed by Julio Bracho, Emilio “Indio” Fernández, Chano Urueta or Joaquín Pardavé—no matter how famous they were. After all, Elsa had become a cinema goddess thanks to her unique allure and personality. 

Elsa had the privilege of acting alongside figures such as Arturo de Córdova in the previously mentioned film Algo flota sobre el agua, or Midnight; with Jorge Negrete appeared in Lluvia roja; with Miguel Torruco, in Acapulco and La estatua de carne; and with Joaquín Pardavé, in Don Simón de Lira, Los viejos somos así, and Ojos de juventud. What’s most remarkable is that her beauty and acting brilliance remained intact for decades, to the point that she looked radiant toward the end of the sixties next to Fernando Luján in El cuerpazo del delito, or alongside the film heartthrob Mauricio Garcés in El matrimonio es como el demonio and El día de la boda. 

In addition to playing the role of a beautiful schoolgirl in Cuatro noches contigo alongside Luis Aguilar, and starring in intense dramas such as Vainilla, bronce y morir with Ignacio López Tarso, or revolutionary-themed stories like Pancho Villa y la Valentina, Elsa took part in a unusual proto-feminist film piece from 1949: The League of Girls. This movie was directed by Fernando Cortés, written by Janet and Luis Alcoriza, and starred the beautiful Elsa Aguirre and Miroslava. It also featured Alma Rosa Aguirre and Luis Alcoriza himself in the role of an exploitative criminal. 

The story begins in the Chapultepec forest, where Magda Donato spends her time handing out cards to women—mostly threatened by their partners—by slipping into car trunks or hiding in apartments like Amelia’s (Alma Rosa), who argues with her husband Amado (Jorge “Ché" Reyes) over a coat she has bought. He yells at her: “Women are incapable of forming a single thought; their brains are weak and malformed.” Once he’s gone, Amelia receives the card that says: “The League of Girls. If you are a young and beautiful girl and you’re interested in living the life you really deserve, call 123-456 or visit 2 Miraflores Street. You won’t regret it. We ask for discretion.”  

This residence—created by the millionaire women named Remedios (Consuelo Guerrero de Luna)—makes reference not only to the alliance of young ladies but also to the “league” of their garter that holds their stockings. Remedios urges women to educate themselves by reading, debating, and listening to the president’s harengues: “Death to men! Long live the League! Let us hail our inspiring Lysistrata, the first women to refuse sex with men […] We stand up for Mexican women’s liberation, to free ourselves from the male monster's grip. In this country, women are nothing. Some males want us to cook, wash, or clean up for them; and others want us only to satisfy their repulsive appetites… How disgusting!”

In this entertaining feminist satire, Elsa Aguirre flaunts her spectacular beauty and sensuality. It’s not a coincidence that in Watch Out for Love, Pedro Infante looks enraptured at her and dedicates to her one of the most romantic songs ever heard on screen: “Cien años”, composed by Rubén Fuentes, and with lyrics by Alberto Cervantes. Today, almost twenty-seven years later, I can’t help recalling Elsa Aguirre’s smile and eyes, but, most importantly, the affectionate kiss on my cheek she gave me as she burst into laughter during that Somos magazine presentation, on a distant September day in 1999. May your path be filled with light, dear Elsa!

Translated by Michelle Olvera