Mexico, thankfully, has less ferocious markers of winter than I’m used to (four-foot snowfall, power cuts, a car that won’t come alive until basted in de-icer) and so I find myself leaning into more well-worn reminders that Christmas is coming. Delicious cliché-filled films have filled that role more than ever. Cinemas are alive this December with invitations to melt in front of blockbusters Wicked, A Complete Unknown, and Gladiator II. Despite the ever-present pull of the small screen, winter reminds us that we still want to crawl into a communal cave-like space and feel wonder at a story told through image and sound. But what do Mexican Christmas movies actually look like?
Daydreaming at my desk, I asked a few of my Mexican colleagues which films they watch at Christmas. Someone offered up Titanic — proving marathon tearjerkers for overstuffed afternoons are a global tradition — whilst another murmured about Love Actually, but there was one title that shook the table into an eruption of agreement: Mi Pobre Angelito.
Mi Pobre Angelito. I drifted off into imagining the plot of this Mexican festive favourite. Perhaps a kid’s action film where Angel Number Four’s costume for the Nativity is stolen in a mixed-up laundry order, prompting undercover spy parents to race across Mexico City and foil a network of crooked laundrettes. Or a Hallmark-style romcom where an overworked lawyer accidentally flies to Oaxaca instead of Ohio, missing her conference and meeting a mysterious “fallen angel” in the Cathedral, inspiring her to sack off the Zoom calls for good.
Awe bordering on fury met my insistence that I have not only never seen but heard of Mi Pobre Angelito and someone kindly summarised the plot. But it’s the same as Home Alone, I say. It’s identical! And that, of course, as I learn in a rosy-faced moment, is because it is Home Alone, and that this film’s star as a festive favourite is steadfast and shines worldwide.
So where are Christmas films made especially for the Mexican audiences so coveted by streamers? And if these films do exist, who is watching them? The answer to that question is ‘obviously they do’ and ‘lots of people’ – including the non-target audience of ‘me’. With a shout out to those not mentioned (Feliz NaviDAD; Feliz Christmas, Merry Navidad; El Sabor de Navidad), here’s an appetizer.
Holiday in Santa Fe (2021, Netflix)
Straight into New Mexico, I know, but this film centres around Mexican family the Ochoas and their attempts to maintain their small business: that most mysterious of enterprises: the all-year Christmas shop. Belinda Sawyer, from festive conglomerate Warm Wishes, comes to buy out the Ochoas and develops steamy feelings for the business-minded son, Tony. Santa Fe is cast as a winter wonderland with ambiguous temperatures where scarves and coats are donned under the beating sun. Business chat combines with romantic wooing as Belinda and Tony discuss how “magic can’t be put into a spreadsheet” and mention the “30% tax break” in Santa Fe no less than twice whilst ice-skating, sharing margaritas, and competing in a ham throwing contest. A masterclass in how to successfully negotiate a deal whilst nurturing good relationships with future in-laws over the festive period. A feat.
Reviviendo la Navidad (2022, Netflix)
This original Spanish title tells you exactly what this film is about whereas the English one, A Not So Merry Christmas, doesn’t, so let’s dive in. Chuy (not coincidentally the nickname for Jesús) shares his birthday with Christmas and resents his chaotic family for constantly forgetting about it. Storming out over dinner, Chuy drinks a cursed shot of tequila served by a shapeshifting Diva Godmother and is condemned to wake up every day thenceforth on Christmas. I found myself marvelling at the way Chuy hardly ages over a decade and that the unseen 364 days of the year don’t spark more chaos in his daily life (what about work? Has he fought with anyone? Been on holiday?). One interpretation could be that this film is an existential musing on the way years drip past in a lethargy of neglect for what really matters. But of course, it’s mainly a caper comedy and kicks off with a big choreographed musical number in a mall for no reason at all, which is always supremely welcome.
Una Navidad No Tan Padre (2020, Netflix)
Begruntled pensioner Servando and his modern family — made up of so many people you’ll need a PhD to understand the connections between them — travel to the beach in a beaten-up van to spend Christmas with glamorous widower, Alicia. Hard-hearted Servando is besotted by the soft-spoken lady of the house and whilst sparks fly, a competition between the families gathers pace on how Christmas should be spent: turkey or bacalao, snow or sand, Santa Claus or the unbearable truth? It’s delicious to hear waves lapping and feel the heat radiating off the baubles and the freneticism of friends and strangers merging over Christmas is relatable. Just don’t try and understand who the three characters turning up in the last ten minutes are, though I think the film’s prequel Un Padre No Tan Padre may offer clues.
How The Gringo Stole Christmas (2017, Netflix)
Imagining a heist film, this instead turned out to be narrative bedfellows with Father of the Bride, with an added strain of that familiar, bittersweet desire to celebrate Christmas “like you did back home.” Bennie, a Mexican landscaper now living in Los Angeles, struggles when his daughter brings home her waif-like ‘gringo’ boyfriend, video game designer Leif, to join the celebrations. Through a loving family of women including Abuelita, who is constantly brandishing either a chela or a jar of Vicks VapoRub, everyone eventually comes round to Leaf, as he’s affectionally misnamed, overwatched by a friendly trio of Cholo wannabe gangsters with a jacked-up bouncing car. Stuffed full of Mexican slang and in-jokes that may or may not have soared over my head, this was nevertheless sweet and a little sassy.
Mi Niño Tizoc (1972, Amazon Prime)
Not a scrap of tinsel in sight, yet the most authentically Christmas-spirited of the selection. We open peering down upon the liquid emerald waterways of Xochimilco and listening to the song of flower sellers Carmelito and his son Tizoc as they calmly punt their trajinera over the water. Discriminated against by other growers for their traditional methods, Carmelito and Tizoc remain steadfast as they battle a fast-changing Mexico City. You’ll want to scream at the screen when Tizoc buys a foul-smelling chicken from under the counter to save money for their Christmas dinner, and experience a heart-pounding hour as Carmelo ventures into the city to find a hospital for his ailing son, transported in a rolled-up carpet on his back. Made by Golden Age filmmaker Ismael Rodríguez, whose real-life son plays Tizoc, this is a visually enchanting step back in time about the ties that bind stronger than any other: the love between parent and child.
The full film is available on YouTube.
Bettine is from the Highlands of Scotland and now lives in Mexico City, working in film development at The Lift, Mexico’s leading independent audiovisual production company.
