Parents' Guide to Son-in-Law

A sharp political satire can be hard to enter when it keeps so many of its jokes behind locked doors. Son-In-Law, from the director of Miss Bala, has moments that are genuinely funny, and its world is painted with enough specificity that viewers can feel real targets behind the chaos. That specificity gives the movie texture, though it can also make the film feel insular, especially for anyone who hasn't spent years keeping up with Mexican politics. The movie winks constantly, sometimes brilliantly, sometimes so hard it nearly pulls a muscle. Even its self-aware "f--k Netflix" joke is funny and awkward at once, since the whole thing is happening inside the same machine it's mocking. The satire has a clear point of view about corruption and power, especially the terrifying ease with which unprepared men can stumble into influence.

Adrián Vázquez is terrific as José, a man who seems destined either to crash spectacularly or fail upward forever. The movie's sharpest idea is that he isn't secretly brilliant, he's dangerous because he's mediocre and shameless, useful to people who need someone with no real moral center. Vázquez makes him charming and grotesque, with a mustache that deserves its own critical essay. The violence lands with a sadness that feels recognizably Latin American as sudden brutality is treated as part of the landscape. The movie is blessedly tight, though it tries to pack in so much corruption and political elbowing that the characters sometimes get bulldozed by the machinery. Verónica Bravo's Lucía Partida cuts through all that noise beautifully. She gives the film its most human ache: angry, watchful, and completely done with José's nonsense.