¡Casa Bonita Mi Amor! movie review (2024)

Eric Cartman, the foul-mouthed leader of the “South Park” boys, now has a permanent table at Casa Bonita, the legendary quasi-Mexican restaurant in Denver, Colorado, that opened in 1973. As in the 2003 episode, where Cartman risks everything to spend time at the kitschy palace of questionable food, Trey Parker, the co-creator of the hit animated series, has devoted time and resources not only to restoring it to its former glory, but also to modernizing its maximalist concept. The arduous (and expensive) renovation process plays out in filmmaker Arthur Bradford’s “¡Casa Bonita Mi Amor!”

Part restaurant transformation journey, part portrait of a kid who grew up with enough money to buy his own Disneyland, this funny documentary captures Parker’s “do-it-all” mentality, even when the smartest choice would be to abandon the project. Matt Stone, the other mastermind behind “South Park,” plays a smaller role, that of a supportive friend willing to hold down the fort and share the financial risk to realize a dream that means so much to Parker.

With its pink façade reminiscent of a centuries-old Catholic church, Casa Bonita’s sprawling space included a cliff-diving pool (a feature inspired by one in Acapulco, Mexico), stalactite caves for kids to explore, and a cast of characters who seem to have stepped out of some vague gold rush era. Images from its golden years help those of us who’ve never been there get a sense of the eccentric vibe the place evokes.

Parker’s memories of wandering the labyrinthine corridors of this unusual and somehow absurd playground prompt him to purchase the property after it closed at the height of the COVID-19 pandemic, only to discover the monumental repairs needed.

But even the most ardent fans, many of whom live in Denver, agree that the food—which resembled poorly reheated frozen enchiladas—was always an afterthought. Determined to improve the quality of the menu, Parker hired Dana Rodriguez, a Colorado-based Mexican chef, to make the cuisine more authentic. Still, to call Casa Bonita an authentic Mexican restaurant would be an insult to the cuisine. No one, not even Rodriguez, a native speaker, pronounces the restaurant’s name with a proper Spanish accent. Whether consciously or not, it’s certainly fitting for a company founded by white Americans with a vision that has resulted in a cross between EPCOT’s Mexico pavilion, the “Pirates of the Caribbean” ride and a typical shopping arcade. That’s not a derogatory statement, but that’s exactly where its old-fashioned charm lies.

Once you understand what Casa Bonita represents, the lack of quality in its original offerings seems to be the key to the oversized, kitschy kitsch that so appeals to customers. One section of the documentary shows Parker traveling with Dana to the southern Mexican state of Oaxaca to shop for decorations, sample real Mexican food, and gather inspiration—never with the hope of faithfully recreating the country’s flavors, but adapting them to the world of Casa Bonita. In a key scene, Parker explains that the 1963 Elvis Presley film “Fun in Acapulco” best describes Casa Bonita’s whitewashed, if slightly culturally insensitive, understanding of Mexico.

Parker and Stone’s acerbic humor shines through in moments of candor, when the realization of the folly of their approach seems to take hold. This frenetic, perhaps not so clever, approach is typical of a duo who showed up to the Oscars under the influence of alcohol. More importantly, Bradford shows Parker’s hands-on involvement in the narrative details of this amusement park masquerading as a restaurant: recording the voices for the new animatronics, casting the actors to play the ambiguous roles of the era, or creating a new puppet show led by a talking taco. The moments when they showcase their talent for making people laugh make them feel like the ideal heirs to Casa Bonita. Not only do they have the funds for such an undertaking, but their offbeat creative personalities allow them to see the place in ways other than its profitable possibilities; its dividends are more emotionally rewarding.

The exorbitant sum they ultimately paid, more than $40 million, seems justified by the euphoria others feel when they enter Casa Bonita. What good is being rich if you can’t fulfill a childhood fantasy that others can enjoy? Even though Bradford’s documentary reads like an elaborate commercial, it makes you want to get a reservation. (You’ll have to wait in line; hundreds of thousands of people are on the waiting list.)