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Herod’s Law is the celebrated film very broadly satirizing
the legendary corruption of the PRI, the political party that
has dominated Mexico’s politics. Though made in 1999, the
PRI had the clout to make it difficult for Herod’s Law
to get distribution in Mexico. The movie screened at film
festivals elsewhere to some acclaim. It is not hard to imagine
that some of that acclaim arose from audiences’ appreciation
for the skewering such a deserving subject. Small-time artist
takes on the corrupt system—you’d have to be completely heartless
or Donald Rumsfeld not to root for such a film. I really
wanted to like this movie, and sat down expectantly. Two long
hours later, I was mystified and depressed.
Juan Vargas (Alcázar), garbage dump manager and lifelong
PRI member, finally gets called up to the majors when the
mayor’s job comes open in San Pedro de los Saguaros. Unbeknownst
to Vargas, his translation from minor civil servant to mayor
is no reward. Governor López (Armendáriz) is angling
for a ministry seat in the new federal government and he needs
a warm and not very bright body in the mayor’s chair of a
jerkwater town whose citizens have a habit of forcibly removing
mayors from office as well as permanently removing them from
this mortal coil. When Vargas and his wife, Gloria (Huijara),
arrive in San Pedro, their dreams of scaling the political
heights crash to the ground with a thud. His secretary, Pek
(Sanchez), shows him around the village, which has
fewer than 100 souls, most of them Indians who don’t even
speak Spanish. Still, Vargas is a well-meaning boob and he
sets out to bring the government’s much-vaunted “Modernity
and Social Justice” to the hinterlands. He is confounded,
though, by the local madam, who offers him mordida,
then interprets his refusals as canny gamesmanship to up the
ante. When Vargas appeals to López for advice, López offers
him a brief, effective demonstration of Herod’s Law (translated
here as “either you fuck them or you get fucked”), a giant
tome of federal laws and statutes, and a gun.
Tempted beyond his pitiable strength, Vargas succumbs and
then becomes so wholeheartedly corrupt that I got whiplash.
One minute, he’s taking bribes and banging whores for free,
the next he’s blowing people away. He so quickly becomes a
killer that it messes up the movie. Writer-director Estrada
clearly revels in exposing the stick-at-nought mentality of
the PRI and its government functionaries, all of whom have
a grift going.
But Estrada saves his real scorn for The People, who are
almost more indicted than the politicians. The People, as
depicted by Estrada, are an easily led, lynch-happy mob. The
People aren’t very bright. They fall for Vargas’s smear campaign
against another citizen, and grab their ropes and torches.
They have the power to kick serious ass, but after they kick
said ass, they relapse into helplessness and wait for someone
else to come along and fuck them over. They trot so docilely
to pay Vargas’s extortionate levies that one is reminded of
a line from The Magnificent Seven: “If God had not
intended them to be sheared, he would not have made them sheep.”
This slow-moving movie has its funny moments, but they are
overshadowed by gaping plot holes and inexplicable leaps in
characterization. It is good when a movie raises questions
and leads to after-viewing discussions. It is not good when
those questions largely center around determining what just
happened. Viewers who are interested in or knowledgeable about
Mexican politics will probably laugh hard enough to choke
on their popcorn, but the rest of us will be scratching our
heads.
—Roxanne Bogucka
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While we would never encourage anyone to destroy a video... 
