La ley de Herodes

A perfect and abundantly Mexican version of Lord Acton's dictum, "Power tends to corrupt and absolute power corrupts absolutely." In 1949 a local official of the ruling PRI (Pedro Armendariz as López) chooses a humble janitor (Damián Alcázar, as Juan Vargas) to be presidente municipal ("mayor") of a dusty, dirty little village in northern México. Vargas' is supposed to bring "modernity and social justice" but as he gradually assumes power, he grows progressively more corrupt. He even acquires the 1930's symbol of rural elegance in México: a Packard. Vargas eventually challenges his mentor, with surprising but perhaps predictable results.

The film was initially denied release because it paints a hilarious but extremely negative picture of women, of local priests, and of local government. It also includes a great deal of amazingly foul, but ultimately very funny, Mexican slang. Even the title, La Ley de Herodes, is part of a very crude saying that might (with considerable liberty) be translated as "Law Blue: Do it to them or they'll do it to you."

A great film! Captures the essence of Mexico's political life, with a lot of humor and a great story. It's also a very well made... the story is perfectly constructed, the photography is beautiful and the acting is top of the line, with Demian Alcazar and Pedro Armendariz, Jr. clearly stealing the show. For Mexicans it should be a rather bittersweet experience... you can't help but laugh at the situation, but it's also so real that you can feel a little frustrated with your government. Filmed almost entirely in brown and sepia tones, to make it as close to 'black and white' as possible.

Politically inspired `Herod's Law' weaves a familiar story of a mousy junkyard operator making his way up to a powerful position and more importantly, corruption that ultimately follow. Director Luis Estrada commands an ensemble of talented actors and masterfully executes this sharp, tough and funny material. Set in 1949, Damián Alcázar plays Juan Vargas, a newly appointed mayor, promising to bring `modernity and social justice' to San Pedro de los Saguaros, a small but troublesome town. Although Juan Vargas initially has good intentions, he is soon forced to `Herod's Law' – a sort of Darwinian way of looking at your peers. D. Alcázar's physical comedy is perfectly pitched and the scenes with Doña Lupe, the brothel madam, are especially funny.

When this film was released in Mexico, it cause so much stirred that the ruling party for 70 years, PRI, was voted out. How many times can we say movies have the power to change a political system? This is 8/10.

I first heard about this film on NPR in an interesting program about the ruckus this film may have caused with with it's own government. This lively film pulls a number of punches at politics of this era. A sharp and amusing black political comedy that keeps you engaged from the very beginning. A lowly civil servant gets a "promotion" to become the law in a desolate backwater Mexican village. It is a universal tale of greed, corruption and fate which had me chuckling for hours. If you can imagine a tasty, spicy satire pie baked up with treachery, a wry wit and superb performances, then by all means take of big bite of this delicious treat.

To understand "La Ley de Herodes" and its historical significance, it is necessary to consider a study of the backdrop behind its production and release. LDH is a product of the decadence of the crumbling, rotting 70-year old regime of the Institutional Revolutionary Party (PRI). The 90s were frantic years in Mexico. The Zapatista uprising, the murder of the PRI's presidential candidate/next president (apparently by his own party), the "Tequila Effect" recession, several political murders and former president Salinas' exile (as well as his brother's arrest for money laundering)... all these events created a dissatisfaction so huge that forced the government to loosen its freedom of expression. It would have been impossible to release this movie, or to listen to Molotov's angry music without the bitter complacency of the government. And in a way, LDH signals the end of the PRI regime and its ousting from the executive in the year 2000. Mexico is undergoing change. It's slow, and it's painful, but it's happening. The PRI has not fully disappear, though. You can now see the Juan Vargas figure clinging in congress,trying to obstruct change, holding to its last source of power. A wonderful mambo score, by the way.