Fjellestad and Page, the director and producer, respectively, of the documentary Frontier Life, have spent the past month taking their film about emerging Tijuana culture on a tour of the western United States. They’ve shown it in art galleries and independent cinemas in blip-on-the-map towns like Bellingham, Washington; Corvallis, Oregon; and Salina, Kansas.

In a few of the smaller towns, the film’s title attracted rugged types expecting an Old West movie. Page and Fjellestad dubbed them “the mountain men,” and while not all of them lasted the duration of the film, those who stayed were glad they did: “We won over those mountain men,” Page grins.

Then there was Salina—“about as far away from any border as you can be,” Fjellestad says —a town that, as it turns out, has quite the happening arts scene.

“Salina was strangely enthusiastic,” Fjellstad says. “I mean, we were just going to go to Salina and tip some cows or something.”

“Bellingham blew us away,” Page adds. “We had no press, nothing. I was expecting zero people, but it was almost a sellout. We stayed around for an hour and a half afterwards talking to people.”

Frontier Life will be the Nov. 7 “Thursday Night Thing” at the downtown Museum of Contemporary Art. The evening will feature a screening of the 93-minute film and music by Marcelo Radulovich (aka Titicacaman), who’s also featured on the film’s soundtrack.

Though the two have collaborated on other projects, Frontier Life is the first full-length documentary Page and Fjellstad have made together. “[It’s] entirely Hans’ baby,” Page says. “He came to me with the idea and I responded to his enthusiasm.”

The well-traveled Fjellestad, who’s screened film shorts all over the world, has had a life-long fascination with Tijuana and has immersed himself in its growing art and music scene. The energy the city gives off, he says, is unlike anything you’ll find around San Diego. And, ironically enough, Tijuana has San Diego to thank for that.

“For San Diegans, I think we have a certain idea of what’s going on in Tijuana,” he said. “We kind of know the story of Tijuana and we’ve been around it for so long, but essentially it’s a third world environment slammed up against one of the richest cities, in the richest state, in the richest country in the world, and so obviously that creates a lot of tension.

“When you have that kind of an energy, you have a lot of invention—a tremendous amount of ingenuity and innovation and that’s what I’m drawn to.”

The title of the film, Fjellestad explains, goes beyond the literal. On the one hand, Tijuana is a frontier town (frontera is Spanish for “border”). On the figurative level, Tijuana is in the process of carving out its identity, pushing against the boundaries of old stereotypes.

“I’ve found that in the last five to 10 years, [Tijuana residents] are starting to look inside,” says Fjellestad. “They’re starting to construct their own identity and ask questions about who they are and what this place is.

“There’s a lot of artists my age,” he continues, “who are starting to take an interesting and insightful look at what’s going on down there artistically and culturally.” Frontier Life is an attempt to put the audience in the middle of all that.

The film’s three segments are strung together by music, interviews and a touch of computer-generated animation. The first segment focuses on underground street racing but also looks into the conflation of aesthetics and functionality in Tijuana’s car culture. The second segment examines the city’s wastewater treatment plants in a way that bypasses tricky political issues in favor of symbolic imagery. For example, Fjellestad notes, a look at the interruption and restoration of neighborhood water supplies is meant to signify the growth process of the city.

“Water circulation,” he explains, “has these official pathways throughout the city, but the city is constantly growing and redefining what those pathways need to be…. This kind of flow and circulation is constantly evolving, so to me that’s the city of Tijuana.”

The final segment explores what Tijuana’s perhaps best known for in the arts world: Nortec—a meshing of norteno, or traditional Mexican country music, and techno music. It’s a sort of soundtrack for the city, the filmmakers explain, and it gave them a chance to incorporate the music of young Tijuana artists they’ve gotten to know.

Taking the film on the road, both say, is part of the creative process. The documentary sprung from Fjellstad’s desire to revise the tired, often racist stereotypes that plague what he sees as one of the more vibrant cities in the world. Audience response—especially from those who’ve never experienced Tijuana firsthand—brings a sort of completion to the project.

Midway through their interview with CityBeat, Page leans over to Fjellestad. “I’ll ask you a question,” he poses. “How do you think [the film] will do in San Diego?”

“I don’t know,” Fjellestad replies. “San Diego’s a very sleepy place to be, especially when it relates to the border…. Unfortunately, there’s plenty of people here who’ve bought into that propaganda even though they should know better. Hopefully people will come see the film thinking they know the story and they’ll get a different side of it.

“Maybe they’ll get a few ideas that kind of change their head around a bit,” he adds. “Kind of rearrange the furniture.”