Nacho Libre (Movie Review)

If I had watched Nacho Libre (2006) alone, or even in a slightly different mood, I would've hated it.

And, because it qualifies neither as your typical Jack Black slapstick, nor as the awkward idiosyncratic comedy that marked the Hess couple's previous film, Napolean Dynamite (2004), it likewise misses a niche audience. Rather, it's somewhere in-between Dynamite and the toilet humor that marks films typical of Jim Carrey's early career.

(Not that Carrey is anywhere in this film, but that the humor is of a similar — albeit milder — spirit)

I suspect the crowd most likely to be thoroughly entertained by Libre would be adolescent boys, or adults "under the influence." But that isn't to say I sat there stone-faced (pun unintended) or anything of the sort. I did get a couple good laughs, most of which were afforded to me by those Dynamite-like moments. In other words, if I felt embarrassed for the character in a particular scene, that was usually an indication of mild amusement. And yet, the moments when I was entertained were likely the most uncomfortable moments for those who prefer more blatant humor. In that respect, it's the sort of film that's unlikely to thoroughly satisfy any cinematic appetite.

What more can you expect from a film about an orphan boy who grows up to become a reluctant monk, despite an inclination to be a professional wrestler?

Oddly enough, the person I found most entertaining (Libre's sidekick, Esqueleto... played by Hector Jimenez) was likewise the most disturbing. As with Dynamite, the Hesses have chosen a goofy Hispanic male to serve as the quirky white guy's even more quirky Tonto. I couldn't help but wonder if Hispanic audiences might be offended by this portrayal, as I was mildly ashamed to find entertainment in his colorful outfits, mismatched teeth (which are whitened after he and Libre strike it big!), lanky body, and... yes... his addiction to a disgusting treat that I regularly see Mexican street vendors selling in my neighborhood: corn on the cob covered in mayonnaise and paprika.

Just thinking about the mayonnaise smothered on Esqueleto's lips makes me chuckle... though the sensitized, politically over-correct part of me objects.

But because much of Libre's comedy derives from appearance, some props are owed to the wardrobe department. Even the wrestling costume worn by Jack Black's Libre persona had some flair about it, and his "recreation" clothes were outright amusing (not to mention I loved his awful moustache, which brings to mind an altogether different sort of film).

I also loved some of the Catholic imagery, though devout parishioners might not appreciate the sardonic — albeit mildly so — tribute. It might offend some, and I couldn't help but think of those Muslim cartoons that caused such a stir a few months back. I decided then that Catholics deserve a lot of credit... they 're frequently the blunt of jokes, and typically handle it in good humor.

But back to Libre: if you liked Napolean Dynamite AND Austin Powers, you won't hate Nacho Libre. You might even be amused, provided you don't expect it to align perfectly with either genre.

Especially good for adolescents and those with a penchant for clean silliness, as the language is mild and the humor only occasionally crude.