Macario (1960) Review: Supper With Death Himself

Is Macario worth watching?

Yes. Macario is one of the great Mexican films, a spare and eerie fable about a poor man who wants one full meal and gets a bargain with Death instead. Roberto Gavaldón tells it with the simplicity of a folk tale and the visual richness of a masterpiece, and Ignacio López Tarso’s performance gives its moral questions a painfully human face. The only reservations are a slower middle section and a fable’s tendency to underline its lessons, but neither dims its power.

What is Macario about?

Macario is set in colonial Mexico. Macario (Ignacio López Tarso) is a woodcutter so poor that he and his large family barely eat, and his one wish is to have a whole roast turkey to himself, just once, without sharing it. His devoted wife (Pina Pellicer) makes the sacrifice to grant it, and on the Day of the Dead he carries the bird into the forest to eat alone. There he is approached by strangers who each want a share, one of them Death (Enrique Lucero). The meal leads to a gift, water with the power to heal, and with it a set of rules and temptations that change Macario’s life.

Gavaldón directs this Spanish-language Mexican film, adapted from a story by B. Traven. It runs 91 minutes, won the Ariel Award for best picture, and was the first Mexican film nominated for the Academy Award for best foreign language film.

Gabriel Figueroa’s shadows and candlelight

Much of Macario’s lasting power is visual. Gabriel Figueroa, the great Mexican cinematographer, shoots the forest in deep contrasts of black and white, turning trees and clearings into something between a real landscape and a painted legend. The Day of the Dead scenes, with their candles, sugar skulls and crowded altars, are some of the most striking ever filmed, and Figueroa’s use of flickering light makes mortality feel both beautiful and close.

The design suits the story’s double nature. Macario’s village is gritty and specific, full of hunger and hard labour, while the supernatural figures seem to step out of popular art, calm and matter-of-fact. The two worlds sit together without strain.

López Tarso’s hunger on screen

Ignacio López Tarso gives a performance of great physical honesty. His Macario is gaunt, stooped and quietly desperate, and his longing for the turkey is played not as greed but as the dream of a man who has never once been satisfied. As the story develops, he lets pride, fear and cunning surface in the same face, so the moral questions feel personal rather than abstract.

Enrique Lucero’s Death is a remarkable creation: lean, soft-spoken and almost gentle, more patient bookkeeper than monster. Their scenes together have the uncanny calm of a legend. Pina Pellicer brings deep warmth to the smaller role of the wife, whose sacrifice sets everything in motion.

Where the fable slows down

Macario’s middle stretch, as the consequences of the gift spread through the wider world, moves more slowly than its opening, and the film occasionally pauses to make its critique of power, greed and the church explicit. Modern viewers may find some supporting performances broad and the moral design visible from early on. These are the limits of a fable, and the film’s atmosphere carries it through them.

Who should watch Macario?

It is essential for lovers of classic world cinema, anyone curious about the golden age of Mexican film, and viewers drawn to folk tales, the Day of the Dead or stories about bargaining with mortality. It is unhurried and in black and white, best watched in a patient mood. There is little on-screen violence, but its themes of starvation and death are heavy, and some imagery may be unsettling for younger children.

For more Mexican stories where the everyday meets the extraordinary:

• Like Water for Chocolate, a later magical-realist tale in which food carries enormous emotional power.
• Roma, Alfonso Cuarón’s black-and-white portrait of Mexican domestic life, equally attentive to people society overlooks.

More films of myth and magic are in our fantasy section.

The verdict

Macario is a timeless fable, both simple and profound, about hunger, fate and the stubborn wish to be satisfied just once. Its middle stretch is slower and its morals are clear, but López Tarso, Figueroa’s images and the film’s haunting encounter with Death make it an enduring classic of Mexican cinema.

Rating: 4.5/5