Lucha Libre is a particularly unhinged spectacle. More theatrical and less rule-bound than both boxing and American wrestling, Mexico’s tradition of “free fight” has been something of a national pastime and a vibrant strand of popular culture for nearly a century. Cassandro, the first non-documentary feature from director Roger Ross Williams, immerses the viewer in this sweaty and star-spangled underworld with an affecting portrait of a man who strove to be a new kind of wrestler. Going against the grain of macho posturing that defined the role of the hero in the ring, the film’s titular character taps into his own flair for extravagance and athletic ability to redefine what a luchador can be. Like many sports movies, it’s as much about spirit as it is about winning.
For a bio-pic, Cassandro is refreshingly original in its treatment of a relatively unknown figure, taking an immersive plunge into a seedy subculture that might be unknown to audiences outside of Mexico. It’s only in the fizzling of some of the story arcs that the genre’s shortcomings are revealed, but the freshness of the subject matter and the committed performance of Gael García Bernal make for a spectacle that’s just as rollicking and unhinged as the demimonde it depicts. Prepare to cheer and smash a folding chair over the heads of your enemies.
Working from a script the director wrote with David Teague, Cassandro follows the grinding ascent of the real-life amateur wrestler, Saúl Armendáriz (García Bernal). Performing under the diminutive moniker “El Topo” (The Mole) that reflects his small stature, he always loses his matches to bigger and fiercer opponents. With the derision of the crowds finally getting to him, Saúl draws inspiration from his mother’s (Perla De La Rosa) closet and reinvents himself as an “exótico” – a kind of gay caricature in drag, who is usually set up to lose the match to the hero. Saúl, however, is in it to win, with the help of a female wrestler and trainer, Sabrina (Roberta Colindrez). It’s notable that it’s the women in his life who give Saúl the edge he seeks over his hyper-macho adversaries.
Along with Saúl’s gradual awakening as a performer and athlete, we glimpse painful moments from his past, like his father’s neglect and his mother’s humiliations as a disrespected side-piece. These elements are mostly handled with a light touch, more feeling than memory, and serve to drive Saúl’s transformation into Cassandro as a means of both defeating the men in the ring and reclaiming some dignity for himself and his mother. Matias Penachino’s cinematography proves essential to the dreamlike tone of the flashbacks and the vivid spectacle of the performances in the ring. The colors pop, the lights flare and everything feels spotlit and center-staged. Unlike Nacho Libre, which also depicted some lucha libre action, Williams stages the fights in full-frame with choreography that captures the derring-do of the performers as they fling themselves off the ropes and execute aerial moves to slam their opponents onto the mat. There’s a breathless sense of physicality and athleticism which suggests that Saúl’s growing renown was more than just an attitude adjustment and some fabulous outfits. He also kicked serious ass, and did it with style.
Wrestling is theater – a precursor to cinema itself – with good guys and bad guys and choreography and costumes. The zeal of the audience testifies to how effectively these elements play on human emotions. Cassandro captures both the ugliness of the crowd with their homophobic chants, and the way a cunning competitor can gain that same crowd’s adoration with sheer spirit and sweet moves. While the film follows a predictable path to a big showdown in the ring, with some detours into the obligatory tying up of Saúl’s character arc, Williams’ fluid direction and García Bernal’s dewy-eyed magnetism keep the focus on the hero in the spotlight. You don’t care who he has to pummel to get there, you just want him to win.
Photo courtesy of Amazon Studios
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