Nacho Libre Reviews
It's happened to all of us. You get revved to see a big Hollywood comedy, starring an actor so funny he could make you laugh in your sleep, and you're disappointed. Majorly.
[It] isn't an entirely unpleasant experience, which is to say it doesn't feel as though it's worn out its welcome before the second reel. It takes slightly longer before its gears begin to slip and its jokes begin to wear and its laughs begin to fade.
A spongy guy in a clingy suit who has a spongy hairdo is funny, to a point, and kudos to Black for the self-deprecation. Kudos as well for his athleticism and balletic grace as he leaps around the ring. Unfortunately, they can't support a movie.
Nacho Libre is more lazy than offensive. Things happen, but there's really no story. People do stuff, but they don't become characters. It might have made a dandy Saturday Night Live skit. But it's not much of a movie.
The beautifully shot Nacho Libre presents its improbable hero -- doughy, boyish and speaking in a dubious accent -- as someone utterly confident of his abilities, and his place in the world.
The only gag here, as far as I can tell, is Black squeezing himself into a pair of red tights and prancing around like a mental patient. Funny yes, but over the course of an hour and a half, it wears a wee thin.