Our Review of Netflix’s ‘Mexico 86’: Is it Worth Watching?

This review contains spoilers for “Mexico 86,” but in reality, they hardly detract from the film’s impact, as the outcome is already well known. 

This is not a documentary. The Netflix-produced film itself announces as much with its opening title card: “Some of these events did happen.” That cheeky, almost defensive, disclaimer sets the tone for a film that is part political thriller, part sports underdog story, and part farce, all wrapped in a nostalgic 1980s aesthetic. Given that Mexico would become the first nation to host a third World Cup in 2026, the film serves as a potent, if fictionalized, origin story for its enduring football obsession.

From Accounting Clerk to Suave Kingmaker

The plot of “Mexico 86” centers on Martín de la Torre (Diego Luna), an undervalued accounting clerk at the Mexican Football Federation (FMF) who believes the organization is run by incompetent, unambitious bureaucrats. Through a series of crafty maneuvers—including a televised outburst and strategic bribery—de la Torre finds himself appointed president of the FMF by the most powerful man in Mexican media, Emilio Azcárraga “El Tigre,” played with intimidating gravitas by Daniel Giménez Cacho.

Azcárraga gives de la Torre an ultimatum: secure the hosting rights for the Mexico 1986 World Cup after Colombia’s withdrawal, or be banished from football forever. What follows is a brilliant sequence showing de la Torre’s realpolitik. 

The film depicts him flying to Zürich for the FIFA vote and executing a masterstroke by rearranging the seating order of delegates, ensuring that those favorable to Mexico vote first and generate unstoppable momentum. In a dramatic, if fictionalized, climax, Mexico snatches the bid from the United States.

This portrayal is grounded in truth. The real figure behind the 1986 bid was not an ambitious clerk but Dr. Rafael del Castillo, president of the FMF from 1980 to 1988. Historical sources confirm that Del Castillo was a fundamental figure in persuading FIFA to bring the World Cup to Mexico after Colombia withdrew its bid. However, the film’s real analog for de la Torre’s Machiavellian streak is Guillermo Cañedo, the Mexican FIFA Vice President and Televisa executive. 

Historical accounts note that Cañedo played an influential role by allegedly enticing certain FIFA Executives with kickbacks from inflated TV rights and marketing deals. “Mexico 86” wisely blends Del Castillo’s public-facing role with the shadowy, transactional maneuvering historically attributed to Cañedo. It suggests that to bring glory to Mexico, one had to be willing to operate in the grey areas of global sports politics.

Surviving the Earthquake

The film’s second act is its most harrowing and effective. The devastating 1985 Mexico City earthquake threatens to derail everything. In the aftermath, FIFA sends a German delegate to assess whether the country can still host the tournament. Here, de la Torre’s desperation shines through. Rather than showcasing reconstruction plans, he gets the delegate drunk and throws him a lavish party at the dilapidated Neza Stadium. It is a vulgar, yet strangely effective, display of showmanship over substance.

This storyline is firmly rooted in history. The quake left the capital in ruins and, coming on the heels of a severe economic crisis, led many to question the tournament’s viability. History records that FIFA President João Havelange traveled to Mexico in October 1985 to inspect the venues and decide whether the World Cup would proceed as planned. 

The film’s decision to focus on a singular, charismatic charm offensive captures the spirit of how Mexico ultimately convinced the world it could rise from the ashes.

The payoff is the tournament itself. The film lovingly recreates Mexico’s best-ever World Cup performance, culminating in a heartbreaking penalty shootout loss to West Germany in the quarter-finals—the furthest Mexico had ever advanced.

The Cachirules Downfall

The third act provides the film’s moral comeuppance. Ambition gets the best of de la Torre, who, in a desperate bid to maintain his legacy, packs the under-20 national team with overage veteran ringers. He is discovered, forced to resign in disgrace, and FIFA bans Mexico from the 1990 World Cup in Italy.

This is a direct dramatization of the real-life Cachirules scandal. In 1988, the FMF was found to have falsified birth certificates for at least four overage players on the under-20 team that qualified for the 1989 World Youth Championship. 

The fallout was massive: FIFA imposed a two-year ban on all Mexican teams, barring the senior squad from the 1990 World Cup and the 1988 Olympic Games. The film correctly notes that this scandal remains a turning point and a source of national shame in Mexican football history.

Yet, the movie argues for a more complicated legacy. It shows de la Torre being hurled insults on the street, a pariah. But it also insists that, despite public perception, he did more for Mexican football than any other man. It notes that after his tenure and the subsequent ban, Mexico has qualified for every single World Cup. This is a provocative thesis—one that forces the viewer to weigh a program’s long-term success against the immediate crimes of its architect.

The Subplots and the Superfluous

The film’s major weakness is its exploration of de la Torre’s personal life. Karla Souza plays a fictional love interest, and while her performance is spirited, these scenes feel superfluous. 

They grind the momentum to a halt, pulling focus from the high-stakes political games and the visceral tension of the football matches. It is a classic biopic pitfall (not that it really is one): trying to humanize a character who is far more interesting as a pure creature of ambition and calculation.

A Flawed But Vital Portrait

“Mexico 86” is not a perfect film. Its pacing is uneven, and its romantic subplot is a distraction. However, as a piece of cultural myth-making, it is essential viewing. Diego Luna delivers a powerhouse performance, transforming from a mild-mannered clerk into a charismatic, morally compromised titan. He embodies a particularly Mexican archetype: the brilliant vivió whose cunning builds a nation’s pride, even as his hubris invites its shame.

An aspect of the film that really deserves highlighting is just how spot-on the production design is in capturing Mexico in the mid-’80s. Everything from the wardrobe to the architectural layouts is seemingly perfect, though limited in terms of large set pieces. 

By blending the tenacity of Rafael del Castillo with the backroom ruthlessness of Guillermo Cañedo, “Mexico 86” offers a fictional but thematically true account of how a nation in crisis used football to become the center of the universe and, in doing so, paid a heavy price.