Today’s story is one of domino effects. Of how cultural moments and political decisions can send out ripples that no one can see coming, to the most unlikely of places sometimes. It’s about the unpredictable and ephemeral nature of life, on and off film. And about how cool it is to see a guy in a silver mask elbow-drop a werewolf. This is the story of how Lucha Libre birthed some of Mexico’s wildest horror films.
Though schlocky B-horror is often associated with American films of men in cheap rubber monster suits and small casts running around in the desert, past our southern border Mexican pop culture has a strong, storied history of B-horror surrounding luchadores, masked wrestlers. Movies where the kings of the ring beat down on anything demonic or alien that crosses their path. But those films themselves have a wild origin, stemming from a post-war hunt for identity and censorship on the basis of sex.
Truly, the luchador films that became the bulk of mexploitation cinema as we know it today didn’t come from a strong desire to uplift lucha but from attempts to suppress it. To understand lucha libre and how it became popular enough to be banned from television, we have to get back to the first half of the 20th century, with the end of the Mexican Revolution.
Mexicanidad and the Rise of Masked Wrestlers
To those unfamiliar with the particulars of the Mexican Revolution, it stands as one of the most violent times of political upheaval in human history. After the deposition of decades-long oligarchical dictator Porfirio Diaz and his regime, multiple parties began to fight for control of the country as its residents sought economic relief, agrarian reform, and the cession of land back to indigenous populations.
The Revolution saw a revolving door of commandants, a cadre of different political groups fighting for a variety of different reasons, and the loss of (by the most conservative estimates) over a million lives in a civil war never before seen in Mexico. Needless to say, the Mexican national identity had been wounded severely by the conflict as doubt and fear filled the populace, and political figures like Lázaro Cárdenas, who found themselves in power following the Revolution, began to try and restore that identity.
From this turning point comes the concept of Mexicanidad, a push for Mexican pride and a reaffirming of the image of the Mexican people that was driven by the tastemakers of Mexican society in politics and media. And for Mexican men, and specifically Mexican working-class men, that evolved into an emphasis on masculinity, virility, athleticism, and what would eventually evolve into our modern conceptions of machismo.
The Television Ban That Birthed Lucha Libre Horror Films
And so came the revitalization of lucha libre, for many reasons. Wrestling as a sport had and still has a fairly low barrier to entry, making it the perfect cheap entertainment for the working class. It had previously captured the hearts of Mexican citizens as far back as the late 1800s when wrestling made its way to the country. It involved masculine displays of strength and agility, which was perfect for the Mexicanidad crowd to endorse. The sport also had a rotating cast of colorful characters, usually the same guys you saw last week but fighting with different masks on, which was the perfect draw for young audiences who soon began to see their favorite luchadors at the comic stands and in wider media.
The craze of professional wrestling spread like wildfire, and more importantly, it spread to a female audience. As female athletes became a point of cultural interest, luchadoras became a very popular element of lucha libre despite being in the minority of performers. There began a melding between the rigid roles of masculine and feminine energy, undesired by many of the political and cultural elites of mid-century Mexico.
The cultural thermometer rapidly cooled due to lucha, and in 1954, federal authorities imposed a 30-year-long ban on lucha libre on Mexican television to prevent the waters from being muddied by such “dangerous” concepts. Soon, lucha had gone from a sport beloved by all people to a brutish, lowbrow event. Which, couldn’t be further from the truth, but cultural hegemony is a hell of a drug!
CDMX’s airwaves had become a no-fly zone for masked wrestlers, and a lost media massacre ensued that caused little to no recordings of those classic matches from the 40s and 50s being kept in circulation. Whole careers had evaporated from record overnight.
But…that didn’t stop luchadors from going to the movies.
Gothic Horror Revival in Mexican Cinema
The film wasn’t just a smash hit at the box office, it was a superkick to the mouth of Mexican cinema that ended up causing a true gothic horror revival. The film’s producer and star, Abel Salazar, found enough success with the film that the Mexican market was soon saturated with gothic horror of his own design, as Hammer Horror took over the British film market.
EL SANTO, BLUE DEMON, AND THE RISE OF LUCHA LIBRE IN HORROR
Despite the television ban, you couldn’t make Mexico forget its masked heroes so easily. The two most significant of which were El Santo y Demonio Azul (more commonly referred to as Blue Demon). Well, technically both of them began as rudos (heels, or bad guys) and later became tecnicos (faces, or heroes). The point is, Santo and Blue Demon’s rivalry was a legendary one, with their masks becoming a piece of indelible Mexican iconography and recollections of their matches being burned into people’s brains.
El Santo was convinced by fellow wrestler, Fernando Osés, to join him on the set of a film he was shooting, as the recent TV ban opened up opportunities in film for wrestlers. Santo was initially signed to star in one of the first lucha films called El Enmascarado De Plata (The Man in the Silver Mask), but backed out last minute because of fears the film would fail and damage his reputation.
Santo’s actual debut pulled him into the world of monster movies that had begun to thrive in Mexico, with his first film being Santo Contra El Cerebro Del Mal (Santo vs. The Brain of Evil) in 1961. From there he went on to do Santo Contra Los Zombies (Santo vs. The Zombies), and by the time he had shot Santo vs. The Men from Hell and Santo in The Hotel of the Dead, he had been locked in as a b-horror icon.
He was of course reunited with Blue Demon throughout his career, and the two often teamed up like superheroes to fight a wide variety of fiends. Ranging from alien spiders to vampire women to Mesoamerican mummies on a rampage, there was nothing they weren’t willing to powerbomb into oblivion. Blue Demon starred in 25 films over his lifetime– Santo starred in more than 50. The two were prolific actors and artists, and despite the often irreverent nature of the films they made and the questionable quality of many of them, the two were horror icons that most of the world is simply unaware of.
Many of their films were not distributed widely, let alone localized to English-speaking territories; only a total of 4 Santo films ever got English language versions. But even if those dubs never came, we can stand and salute the wild history of b-horror that these luchador legends have given us.
Top Lucha Libre Horror Films to Watch Today
Arañas Infernales (Hellish Spiders) is a really fun piece of schlocky, monochrome, nuclear bug horror from the late 60s; the little evil alien spider puppets in this film are so doofy looking, I want ten of them. It’s pure ham and cheese as far as content goes, but it’s impossible to say it isn’t fun.
Santo y Blue Demon Contra Los Monstruos (Santo & Blue Demon vs. The Monster Men) is some oh-so-glorious technicolor nonsense that brings us a six-man grudge match between the heroes, a mummy, a werewolf, a vampire, and a Frankenstein. I don’t even have to say anything else, you know it’s too hype of a concept to turn down.
Santo Contra Las Mujeres Vampiro (Santo vs. The Vampire Women) has some genuinely unparalleled ambiance and set design, with this black and white gothic horror mixing a modernized Mexican aesthetic with the pseudo-Victorian mansion where the finale takes place. Santo dives into a nest of female vampires in white dresses to rescue a damsel in distress, and hilarity ensues. It is probably the most technically competent of all of these when it comes to its directing.
The Mummies of Guanajuato was ultimately one of if not the biggest moneymakers, as it brought the three most famous luchadores together: Santo, Blue Demon y Mil Máscaras united to put the squeeze on some mummies killing Mexican citizens. Those monsters by the way, actually look great thanks to their makeup! All the ring exhibition stuff of them wrestling in the film is impressive as well. This one is my true favorite. If I could only watch one, it would be this.
And that’s all! Well, I’m off to go watch Santo vs The Zombies again, stay chill Horror Press rea–
What’s this?
ITS EDITOR JAMES-MICHAEL WITH THE STEEL CHAIR?
HES COMING IN BECAUSE OF MY HELLBOY ARTICLE BEING TOO LONG?!
LORD HAVE MERCY!
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Major thanks to Marjolein Van Bavel, a professor of Modern Cultural History at Radboud University, whose writing formed most of the research on the historical part of this article. She discusses luchadoras in much more detail in her article “Morbo, lucha libre, and Television: The Ban of Women Wrestlers from Mexico City in the 1950s”, which I highly recommend you check out. Her writing was one of the major resources used for this article, and as such, deserves a shoutout.
And another shoutout to Brian Schuck of Films From Beyond, who pointed me towards Doyle Green and his book Mexploitation Cinema, which is a huge resource on lucha libre in horror. Both of them are incredible, please show them some love!
And as always, good luck, and happy watching horror fans!