"For a few magical months, I found myself living and loving just south of Mexico City in the warm winter of 1992. My girlfriends played me Chavela’s songs on record players and told me tales of her womanizing, her irresistible allure, her deep voice, her audacity. She moved all who met her. I had to meet her. Before cell phones put a camera in everyone’s pocket, I carried a video camera in my backpack everywhere I went. I begged my friends to help me create a face-to-face moment with Chavela. I wanted to ask her some questions in my broken Spanish, make her laugh her gorgeous laugh, feel her magnetism, hear her raspy tones, and squirm at the power of her promise. I asked her if I could videotape our conversation. She agreed and she did not disappoint. It is no wonder she is called The Rough Voice of Tenderness. I became obsessed with her ability to draw people in. I was fascinated by her lightness and ease, her masculinity. And with her song. But I came home and put those master tapes away. A decade later, I clamored to be among her fans smiling ,with eyes closed, dreaming when she performed at Carnegie Hall. Then, among friends who treasured her, I mourned when she passed away three years ago at the age of 93. Finally, I decided to unearth my archival footage to see what I had captured all those years ago and there in her full glory was Chavela – relaxed, confident, and poetic in her raw honesty. It was a veritable gold mine of footage..."

So explains Catherine Gund, one half of the directing duo alongside Daresha Kyi, of CHAVELA, on how this masterful film came to be. If you are unfamiliar with Chavela Vargas (don't worry, I didn't know her before), I implore you NOT to let that stop you from watching this film. In fact, this film is the perfect introduction to a woman we all ought to know.