Nacho Libre is a Top Five Film of All Time

I swear to God if I hear one more person say The Godfather is the best film ever, I’m going to go to Taco Bell, get the supreme crunch wrap and some tacos, go over to their residence and then take a massive, explosive #2 in all their toilets — which will, of course, cause sever plumbing and property damage.

Look, we all understand the importance of The Godfather: epic. Groundbreaking. Cinematically arousing. It was a transcendent film. This is a fact.

And the same could be said for The Godfather: Part II, Shawshank Redemption, Citizen Kane, Shrek, and The Dark Knight. Amazing works of cinema, no doubt.

But do you honestly expect me to sit here and let movie critics get away with disrespect? Am I really supposed to act like Nacho Libre isn’t one of the best films ever?

I’m supposed to trust the “esteemed” movie critics who gave the 2016 version of Ghostbusters a 73% rating and a 90% rating for The Last Jedi? Yeah freaking right. That’s insulting.

We, the audience, have two eyes and a functioning pre-frontal lobe. We’re not fools easily seduced by great cinematography and special effects that overshadow piss-poor writing by woke, third-wave feminists with blue hair and a questionable sexuality.

Anyways, my point is this: we can’t solely rely on critics to determine what's good or bad. Yes, it's their job, but they suck at it.

So now I gotta come on here and spit some truth and facts about Nacho Libre. I’m here to educate the masses and if I end up winning a Pulitzer Prize or getting tenure to teach film at a local community college, then so be it — go wherever the wind blows I guess.

It's pretty simple: Nacho Libre is a top-five film because of the real-life story, the setting, and Jack Black. Obviously, there’s more, but if you’ve got the Big Three on your team, you don’t necessarily need to talk about the bench players, you know?

Let’s talk story.

Ignacio, the cook of the monastery, is an orphan who cares for orphans. He has aspirations for more. He faces an existential crisis — as most people do — and decides to take a step into the destiny of his choosing: wrestling.

The main character, the hero of the story, loses many fights and just straight up fails. Like hello?! That’s literally life! If you haven’t been beaten up by miniature demons or looked down upon because of your social status, then are you even a human being? I mean really, are you?!

A hopeless romantic, working at a job he doesn’t enjoy, dreaming of one day having a better life for himself and the people he cares about? Sound familiar? It should. It’s literally you, except without the monk robes and mustache.

Nacho represents the person who has vision and tries to achieve his dreams only to continue to fall short. Things don’t go as planned. Screw the critics who say, “Oh well, you know I didn’t like that Nacho only won one fight.”

Ummm, okay you pretentious prick. Some of us actually live in the real world, in a real 3-Dimensional space where people pursue their dream and don’t have instant success.

The last time I checked, the biggest fight in the film is against Ramses, and Nacho won with a flying eagle pin move. Nacho won the ultimate fight, which mattered, the one that will go down in history as the biggest upset inside the squared circle.

If Ignacio can overcome his obstacles, why can’t we?

And the story is punctuated by the theme of friendship. In the midst of all the struggles and strifes of life, Nacho has a friend. Steven (i.e., Esqueleto), a malnourished, chip-stealing street pauper, is a close companion to Nacho.

And yes, they get into a fight, but that’s real life. We get upset at the people who are there for us. We lash out at them for not being baptized, or being fat, or not liking orphans.

But through thick and thin, Steven is there for Nacho when it matters most when he wrestles Ramses. In fact, Steven is the reason why Nacho even gets to wrestle Ramses because of his street hood heroics. Simply stated, Esqueleto embodies what to friendship and loyalty look like.

Next, the story is ultimately heightened by its setting.

We find ourselves introduced to the harsh conditions of the Oaxaca orphanage. One might say it has a real Oliver Twist vibe.

The film’s setting is all about presenting us with the visuals of a life we try to avoid: kids wanting better food, paupers in the streets, and the rugged conditions of life under the hot sun. The film’s cinematography does a great job showing us the distinction between the pristine city life and the rough life out in the Mexican wilderness.

We also see the cultures of Oaxaca. On the one hand, we have the less fortunate society like the orphans, and on the other hand, we have the pomp and glory of celebrity culture with the luchadors and their entourage.

It's the classic dichotomy of elitists and the “common man.” And this is punctuated most clearly when the orphans are on a field trip into the city where they encounter Ramses and other luchadors.

In the heart of the city, we find children who want nothing more than an autograph of their heroes, only to be let down by the bravado of prideful Ramses.

Wake up people! That’s a subtle culture critique. The writers incorporated a stinging jab at celebrities who think they’re better than everyone else. If it can happen in Oaxaca, it can happen in Hollywood — and it does!

Why the hell should we want the autograph or look up to superstars who live in million-dollar mansions, pretend to be a political activists but have no idea what they’re talking about because they barely graduated high school, or get tons of plastic surgery to disguise their true satanic form?

Don’t fall into the trap. Nacho Libre uses the Oaxaca orphans to teach us to remember that no matter where we are in life or what our socio-economic status is, celebrities can be jerks who like the attention we give them, but they couldn’t care less about us.

And finally, Jack Black. The man. The myth. The legend.

He brings the film into the echelon of ecstasy with a brilliant performance. He perfectly embodies the role of Nacho that takes us on a roller coaster of emotions. Jack keeps us on the edge of our seats like a daredevil; he satisfies our senses like a masterful chef; he reliably delivers like Amazon two-day shipping.

Only Jack Black could properly portray the journey of a pleasantly plump orphan who works as a monastery cook and then finds himself living a secret double life in the wrestling world.

This was the role Jack Black was born to star in. [Some people, like myself, would argue this role was wrongly snubbed of an Oscar nominee]. He understood the assignment and passed with flying colors.

Listen, I’m not arguing Nacho Libre is the best movie ever written and released. But to leave it out of your top five list of best films is shallow, and honestly, you might be a bigot towards Mexican orphans and wrestlers — if you are, you’re canceled, so bye!

If Nacho Libre is already in your top five films of all time, that’s fantastic. You get it! You understand what life is all about.

Don’t let anyone try to shame you like you’re some forty-year-old dude with erectile dysfunction. You’re not! Be loud and proud about the fact that you have the gift of discernment to see Nacho Libre as the cinematic treasure that it is.

If Nacho Libre isn’t in your top five best films, you’re lying to yourself. And don’t try to convince me I’m crazy or that I need to reconsider — get that corn outta my face! You’re most likely uncultured and probably unbaptized.