la legge di Erode

Satire is very difficult to pull off, but this one is a classic. It works beautifully, it's cleverly crafted, it's devilishly funny. The acting is superb. It was a joy to see Isela Vega again! I can't remember any other Mexican movie being as devastatingly critical of our "perfect dictatorship" as this one. It's really a pretty accurate depiction of the morass that corruption has created in Mexico and of the attitude of the ruling party towards the nation. The impunity, the cynicism, the paternalism, the graft, the slime, the crime, it's no exaggeration. The government is so out of touch and so stupid that they even tried to censor it. Needless to say, the movie has been playing to packed houses in Mexico. I hope it breaks all box office records. Even better, it should be Mexico's entry to the Academy Awards.

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."

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.

Herodes' Law is great and perfectly accurate parody of the corruption that characterizes most of the Latin America's states (for not saying ALL of them). Brilliantly, director Luis Estrada uses a very poor small town to develop his exaggerate parody about the behavior of Latin-American rulers. I'm sure that for us who were raised in small Latin-American towns, have notice that our governors are just a small sample of how things works in the official grounds.

Good photography, characters perfectly conceived and excellent performances makes Lay Ley de Herodes a very enjoyable, sometimes disgusting, film. Don't miss it 9/10

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.