Hecho de coca: A Sentimental Education

Abstract

The opening credits of our first film appear over black screen in a font my word processor identifies as Lucida Handwriting. This is not endearing type. The vibe is somewhere between wedding-registry gauche and yearbook duplicitous. La Raja Mex presenta. But foremost among its occlusive virtues, what makes it an auspicious choice over, say, Big Caslon’s competitive handshake, or the personality disorder of Andale Mono, and what renders its acknowledgement here a critical imperative rather than a waste of time is not its form—forget about form—it’s the cogent poetry of the name itself. Lucida Handwriting. That suggestion of something luminous, brilliant trapped within a scrawl so personal it’s difficult for others to understand, let alone divine its worth. In the public domain of typeface, there is not a more pitch-perfect metaphor for the film we are about to see or for the genre you may eventually come to love. But we’re only two seconds in; forgive my impatience.