Despite all the arguments for America First ideology as a way to preserve the United States with the ideology formed on a basis of Christian Nationalism, it’s a belief system that cannot stand in the wake of actual data and economic responses. It surmises that migrants and immigrants are “others” that are coming to take jobs and establish cultural dominance which will erase the presumed “purity” of a country, infusing fear into every interaction when the truth is far less threatening: cultural mixing encourages empathy, understanding, and community. Adapted from the 2017 Aura Xilonen novel The Gringo Champion, co-writer/director Jonás Cuarón’s (Chupa) latest film, Campeón Gabacho, having its world premiere in the Spotlight section of SXSW Film & TV Festival 2026, explores these very notions through a remarkable inclusion of magical realism amid a play-like production design that evokes the energy of Do the Right Thing (1989) and the magic of Moulin Rouge! (2001) through the sports perspective of Rocky (1976).
L-R: , Juan Daniel García Treviño as Liborio and Leslie Grace as Aireen in CAMPEÓN GABACHO. Photo Credit: Pepe Ávila del Pino. Photo courtesy of SXSW.
Migrant Liborio (Juan Daniel García Treviño) came to the U.S. from Mexico in hopes of better opportunities, thinking his journey on foot and across the waters of the Rio Grande would be the worst of it. However, despite his best intentions, he repeatedly finds himself on his back foot as good intentions lead to a series of misfortunes that place him in one frustrating situation after another. Nevertheless, his determination to overcome creates an opportunity for him to arise as a hero, whether he wants to or not.
Campeón Gabacho is magic. Full stop. Before even getting into the script, co-written by Cuarón and Xilonen, and its incredible optimism in the face of countless acts of barbarism (overt and micro), the execution is positivity sublime due to the utilization of a mix of in-camera tricks with fastidious editing by Adam Gough (Roma; Da 5 Bloods), Bruno Lasevicius (Apocalypse in the Tropics), and Cuarón to create moments that defy logic and hit one directly in the heart. Sometimes it’s a simple moment wherein Liborio stops to stare directly at us, down the barrel of the camera, as he explains what he’s feeling or remembering while everything around him either slows or stops entirely. This choice serves to convey how Liborio is the arbiter of his story, even as he laments the bad luck that seems to follow him from where he left in Mexico to a New York City Latino barrio. Other times, it’s more drastic, such as when Liborio remembers crossing the Rio Grande and he finds himself falling backward into memory, but instead of slamming hard onto the floor he’s cleaning, the water of the river slams into his back. These choices make average moments metaphorical and allow imagination (of the good moments) to grow in power and dissociation (of the bad moments) to become infused with greater weight and meaning. Just as the film opens with a masked artist finishing marking a wall with the title of the film before being chased by law enforcement, the interweaving of truth with fantasy doesn’t disturb the impact of the story, it turns it mythical and grand while maintaining its pure heart.
These elements also give the film the same energy as watching a play, not a play adaptation, such as In The Heights (2021) (another Leslie Grace title) which took real areas of New York City’s Washington Heights and made them dramatically musical with heightened colors, costumes, and set pieces. Here, however, there is the frequent reuse of locations, each one shot roughly the same way, as one might see from the seats while viewing the stage. Characters and locations are dressed naturally (Rosario Dawson’s Doble-U an outlier), saving the magical realism for when it matters most and typically without warning, whether it’s Grace’s Aireen appearing in a lightbulb from the filament or an American flag unfurling behind a character as Liborio espouses the frustration of moving to the Land of the Free but its systems don’t welcome outsiders. This choice, to give the feeling of a play, also works to adapt a novel seeing as so much of any novel involves the inner workings of its subject and a play may utilize fourth wall breaks to ensure the audience is clear on perspective. Songs are used the same way in musicals and, sadly, there are no songs here outside of the ones that play in the background to give the film that Latino barrio energy, yet it still possesses that same intensified sensation, as though someone is as likely to be shown walking on air and breaking out in song, each break from reality a confession of truth from within the mind and soul of the individual. If and/or when the film does inject some romantic breach of reality, not an ounce of truth is broken for everything is funneled through Liborio’s perspective, making some cinematography choices electric in the capturing of the human experience, whether violent or gentle, abrupt or protracted, quixotic or authentic. This is Campeón Gabacho power and it’s wielded masterfully.
Where the film staggers somewhat, and this could be an issue with the adaptation and fitting into a specific runtime, is where one starts to feel as adrift within the film as Liborio does. We don’t know when the story starts or where, time passes without any clear markers, and, most often, Liborio bounces from one problem to another before finding his feet. Even then, it all seems transitory and different to latch onto. Thankfully, the cast is so remarkable and endearing that one doesn’t feel as though they’re lost, just drifting with the narrative. We don’t know where we’re going, but we feel the trust of guidance pushing us forward. Treviño (I’m No Longer Here) is captivating as Liborio, so much so that we can’t help but feel warmth spread within ourselves upon witnessing his joy. If being a secret keeper of his thoughts and experiences is the idea behind his confessions to us, then it makes sense that we might respond this way to Treviño’s earnestness. What’s truly remarkable is he has fantastic chemistry with almost all of his scene partners, whether it’s Eddie Marsan (The Gentleman) as Chief, Liborio’s foul-mouthed and well-meaning first boss; Grace’s hardened-yet-vulnerable Aireen, whose appearance in Liborio’s life sets off the latest string of bad luck; or Rubén Blades (Mo’ Better Blues) as Abacuc, a shelter operator who rescues Liborio in a time of need. Each of these and several others share moments of caustic-wrapped-love that feels familial, close, and intimate with Liborio — all of which only works when the cast members all align with intention. Even when portions of the film seem harder to understand within the larger context of the narrative, the actors pull us back in with their performances.
CAMPEÓN GABACHO director Jonás Cuarón. Photo courtesy of SXSW.
At a time when the current U.S. government is learning that migrants were never taking people’s jobs (as they campaigned in order to stoke fear) but were, in fact, taking the jobs no American wanted, through crippling impact on labor the excising of such peoples is now having, a film like Campeón Gabacho reminds us that the history of the country is determined by its people. The stolen lands, the broken promises, the continued abject humiliation of any deemed lesser — all of these things define what American is. At the same time, there’s innumerable possibilities about what the country could be. It’s because of this that even when the current U.S. government decides to double-down and go after truck drivers (having not yet learned that touching a hot stove will burn you), Americans will still cling to a strange optimism that we can be better than all of this, that the dream of prosperity can be realized and it’s for everyone who lives on these shores. There’s a systemic issue that even Campeón Gabacho addresses, the utilization of Liborio’s perspective making his pain darkly comic in the moment with its terrible truth; however, that’s not what the film and its narrative espouse. It is about how all people who are put down, as long as they draw breath, have the ability to change their fortunes, to cast off bad luck, and to make something new and prosperous. Even when all things seem hopeless, Campeón Gabacho reminds that we’re not merely cogs in a broken system, but people who can come together toward an ideal of what humanity can be. In this way, the magic of Campeón Gabacho is less about what’s real and what’s not, and more about how something we do, see, or say makes ourselves and those around us feel. By credit’s roll, we feel, in a word, hope. In two, hope and community. With those together, a people can change anything.
Screening during SXSW Film & TV Festival 2026.
For more information, head either to the official Campeón Gabacho SXSW Film & TV Festival webpage or film website.
Final Score: 4.5 out of 5.
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Categories: Films To Watch, In Theaters, Recommendation, Reviews
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