“The Long Walk of Carlos Guerrero”
Filmmaker Joseph Mathew takes us on a journey that explores the power migrants can have, while portraying real characters
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Chef Carlos Guerrero thought he had made it, that after five days traveling through the Sonoran Desert in Arizona he was safe. On the other side of the border and with nightfall approaching, thirst led him to a small shop to purchase cold water, cookies and some fruit. His dry lips, chapped from dehydration, his sunburnt skin and his dusty clothes alerted the shop employee.
Without Guerrero noticing, the American in charge of the business called the police, believing that he wouldn’t have the money to pay. A customer standing near the cash register, the septuagenarian Mike Wilson, was watching the scene. He followed Guerrero out of the shop to offer him help in protecting himself from immigration authorities.
The scene is fictional. It appears in “The Long Walk of Carlos Guerrero” (Katha Films, 2024), a film by Joseph Mathew that relays the journey of a Mexican immigrant without documents who decides to return to Mexico to say goodbye to his gravely ill mother. On his way back through the desert, he encounters drug traffickers and extortionists, both Mexican and American, and distressed families attempting to enter the United States. But he also comes across activist groups that help to save lives.
Both in real life and in the fictional narrative, Wilson belongs to the Tohono O’Odham Nation. He helps carry water to different points within the desert so that migrants will not die of thirst. In the film, he gives voice to his own motto: “No one deserves to die from a lack of water.”
Wilson’s face has the mettle of desert dwellers, weathered by the sun and marked by time. Deep gaze, soft smile, long, grayed locks held together in a ponytail. At first glance, he doesn’t look like a typical actor. And he never thought of becoming one, until the day that filmmaker Mathew proposed it.
“Will you be in my movie?,” Wilson says that Mathew asked him.
“I’m not an actor,” Wilson replied.
“I don’t want an actor; I want Mike Wilson,” the director said, urging him on.
In addition to Wilson, a small group of volunteers at the Southside Presbyterian Church in Tucson, make appearances as actors. The church offers refuge to immigrants and some scenes were filmed there.
Mathew began writing the script for the story in 2006, after premiering Crossing Arizona (Rainlake, 2006). Once he had convinced Wilson to join the cast, he gave him just one simple assignment: “All you have to do is portray yourself and do the things you normally do.”
The director was referring to the 12 years Wilson spent working alongside the organization Humane Borders to place blue flags on tens of water tanks and refill them for migrants. Between 1981 and 2022, the organization installed more than 80 of these safe water stations in Pinal, Pima and Maricopa counties. They had to stop because of the dangerous presence of organized crime, which put their lives at risk.
Although it may seem easy, Mathew recognized that playing a role without being an actor is no easy task. Wilson had to memorize a lot of dialogue. “I appreciated his dedication; he did very well,” said the director.
In real life, Wilson describes himself just like his character: “I’m exactly me.”
Tribute to a hero friend
Filmmaker Mathew produced “The Long Walk of Carlos Guerrero” with the aim of dignifying the image of migrants in the U.S. during an election year and amid pressure from various state laws that are increasing fears of deportation and family separation, like SB4 in Texas.
“We know what is coming — election year fear-mongering with talks of ‘invasion’ and ‘chaos’ on the border,” said the director.
He knows something about migration, having been an immigrant himself. He was born in Kerala, India, and has lived in the U.S. for more than 20 years.
The idea of better “border security” is being used once again to win votes in an election cycle; earlier this year, conservative politicians insisted that Congress approve a bill making limits with Mexico ironclad, but the effort ultimately failed.
Trump continues to employ anti-migrant rhetoric in his bid to recapture the presidency of the United States.
Mathew chose to dedicate the film to his friend, chef Carlos García. Guerrero’s character is fictional, not based on Garcia’s life, but merely a tribute. García began his career as a dishwasher when he arrived in New York City from Mexico and over time he rose to the role of executive chef at the celebrated Brasserie Les Halles, taking over the restaurant’s management and leadership after Anthony Bourdain left to devote himself to television in early 2000.
Mathew lived near the restaurant, and during long chats over some beers, he learned of the sacrifices migrants are faced with.
“This inspired me to make my hero an undocumented immigrant”, said Mathew.
García died of cancer in 2015.
One migrant personifying another
Jonathan De La Torre, who plays Carlos Guerrero, is 38 years old and a native of Mexico City. He migrated with his family to Arizona at the age of 5. He became a U.S. citizen just three years ago.
“My father was deported, several family members had really difficult experiences as migrants and an uncle died of dehydration in the desert,” the actor explained. Perhaps that's why the migrants represented in the film, whose feet are often destroyed by walking in the desert, moved De La Torre deeply.
“I felt the importance and the seriousness of this story,” he said. On set he became familiar with the work that Wilson and Humane Borders undertake along the border. He says it was “the most beautiful thing” he took away from filming.
The film was screened in Phoenix and Tucson in November 2023. And, this year, it will appear at small venues and at festivals, like the Arizona International Film Festival.
De La Torre shared personal experiences with the audience during those premieres. He said that at some point while shooting the film in 2020, he felt as vulnerable as that five-year-old boy who crossed the border. Like Carlos Guerrero almost dying in the desert. Or like Carlos García in real life yearning to return to Mexico.
He also revealed that, during the last stretch of filming period, he crossed into Nogales, Sonora, and on his way back, immigration authorities detained him for five hours. The film production crew had to pay a $500 bond to release him.
“Oooff.” A breath escapes De La Torre. “As soon as I read the script, I (felt that I) had to tell this story, for the people I know and for myself,” he said.
Water for thousands of thirsty migrants
When Mike Wilson began filling Humane Borders’ water tanks in 2002, his Tohono O’odham government opposed it. "They didn't want me to provide water because they thought more immigrants would come through," said the activist.
The nation’s authorities threatened to strip him of his membership, but that didn’t stop him. Nor did intimidation from border patrol. And certainly not those of the Minutemen militia, armed civilians along the border who detained migrants and damaged the water tanks.
Wilson filled each cistern with 55 gallons, equivalent to 880 cups. He is moved when he recalls the gratitude of the thousands of immigrants he met. Wilson lived in Central America when serving in the military and says that, while he experienced poverty as a child, he’d never seen the extremes of poverty that he witnessed in El Salvador, Honduras and Guatemala.
Migrant deaths along the southern border rose when Donald Trump was inaugurated president in 2017, stepping up militarization of the region. So migrants began to seek other, more deadly, crossings.
According to the Pima County Office of the Medical Examiner, 3,356 bodies were found along the southern border between 1990-2020. Some have yet to be identified.
Human rights scholar and activist Ángeles Maldonado is familiar with Wilson's story and is working to establish partnerships with national organizations to promote the film.
As for whether the film could have an influence on the votes of viewers, their support for Trump or their disillusionment with President Joe Biden, Maldonado said that the most important message of the film is the power built up by individuals and the community — a potent reminder that change doesn't just come through voting, but also through everyday acts of compassion and solidarity. “The film empowers us, by showing us that each one of us has the potential and the power to help each other out,” she said.
This motivation is what keeps Wilson on his feet at the age of 74, distributing water in the desert, now in Green Valley, in Pima County. It’s what drove him to portray his own life despite not being an actor.
On a chilly November afternoon outside The Loft, a theater in Tucson, Wilson wore a red shirt and a native tie, fashioned from leather and braided with a silver pendant featuring the characteristic “I'itoi” pattern of the O'odham tribes, which represents divine creation.
“Were you 100% Mike Wilson in the film?” I asked him.
“Yes,” he answered, adding, with a laugh, “And I still am.”
Wilson walked towards the entrance of the theater. Little by little, his figure disappeared into the crowd.