The film El Infierno premiered just before the celebrations of Mexico's independence bicentennial commenced. (Courtesy Bandidos Films)

Mexico City - Filmmaker Luis Estrada has a knack for capturing the national mood of Mexico with his tragicomedies — and coming to the conclusion with each project, "We've touched bottom" as a country.

A decade ago, with Mexico flirting with a possible democratic transition, his film La Ley de Herodes, or Herod's Law, mocked seven decades of corrupt and authoritarian rule under the Institutional Revolutionary Party (PRI). In fact, the PRI tried to ban the sleeper hit's release in what Estrada called, "A final authoritarian act," prior to losing power in 2000.

'For me, it was important that there was someone that could sound a dissonant note, someone that would say, 'Gentlemen, how are we going to celebrate with things as scandalous as they are.'—Luis Estrada, filmmaker

More recently, he released, El Infierno, or The Hell, in which he put an unflattering lens on the nation's raging drug war. He received a "C" rating, the Mexican equivalent of Restricted, for the film's depictions of such cartel-inspired gore as gangland slayings, the execution of cops and the dumping of severed heads in a cockfighting ring.

It premiered barely two weeks before the celebrations of Mexico's independence bicentennial commenced, something Estrada says was no accident. The opening depiction on the film's website features an official bicentennial sign being peppered with bullets and marred with the graffiti, "Nothing to celebrate."

"For me, it was important that there was someone that could sound a dissonant note, someone that would say, 'Gentlemen, how are we going to celebrate with things as scandalous as they are?'" said Estrada, who received money from a government bicentennial commission to make El Infierno.

His sour sentiments appear to have resonated leading up to the bicentennial, which has been beset by bickering, petty politicking and largely void of enthusiasm. A survey by the Grupo Reforma newspapers showed 39 per cent of respondents had no enthusiasm for the bicentennial, while 57 per cent said the public celebrations were not worth the money.

Difficult times

Mexico is celebrating the 200th anniversary of its independence from Spanish rule and the 100th anniversary of its revolution. But the bicentennial comes at a difficult time for Mexico.

The country is not only fighting a difficult drug war, but it's struggling to bounce back from a sharp economic downturn made worse by the H1N1 outbreak last year.

And Mexico continues to suffer through political divisions resulting from the disputed 2006 presidential elections. It is confronting the disenchantment of a democratic transition that has largely failed to raise living standards or usher in better governance.

'On one hand, they're saying, 'This is a war.' On the other hand, they're saying, 'Go out and dance the cha-cha-cha.'—Ilán Semo, historian

The messy preparations for the bicentennial seem to further underscore the disunity and difficulties. Numerous bicentennial projects are behind schedule and over budget, including a 104-metre-tall "Trail of Light" monument, which won't be ready for another year. Opposition lawmakers have demanded the Public Education Secretariat, which organized the official festivities, give an accounting to Congress.

Even the official song, by Aleks Syntek, was withdrawn after receiving so much criticism that the pop singer temporarily closed his Twitter account.

Mixed messages

Meanwhile, many of the goals of those fighting for independence — and the revolution, the centennial of which is also being celebrated this year — appear as elusive as ever. Vices such as corruption, impunity, and economic and social inequalities are still rife.

But much of the disenchantment is over more recent happenings, says political historian Ilán Semo, and much of it stems from contradictory messages emanating from the federal government, which is calling for perseverance in fighting the drug war while simultaneously promoting a national celebration.

"You've had a pessimistic, end-of-the world discourse," said Semo, who teaches at the Iberoamerican University in Mexico City.

"On one hand, they're saying, 'This is a war.' On the other hand, they're saying, 'Go out and dance the cha-cha-cha.'"

Still, Mexicans are known to celebrate frequently and lavishly, even during difficult times, Semo says. And most will observe independence festivities, which are commonly celebrated late on the evening of Sept. 15 with re-enactments — known as "gritos" — of parish priest Miguel Hidalgo unleashing the independence movement in 1810 with the lusty yell, "Viva Mexico!"

The president traditionally delivers his version of the grito in the Zócalo, a massive square occupying the heart of Mexico City.

Local versions of the grito are scheduled across the nation, although violence prompted cancellations in Ciudad Juárez and northeastern Mexico, where many residents seldom venture out after dark.

Estrada plans to celebrate the bicentennial with family, in what he called, "My own private way." He confesses thinking once again that the country has "hit bottom," and is reaping a bitter harvest through the drug war for decades of social neglect, impunity and corruption — sins he wanted to see stamped out with the end of one-party rule, a goal he promoted in La Ley de Herodes.

El Infierno imparts no similar value message, which, like the film's release date, Estrada says was intentional. He hoped Mexicans would take the bicentennial as a moment to look ahead instead of reflecting on the past.

"I don't think anyone has bothered to think that this opportunity was very valuable, very important. So I think that all of this now is literally going to go up in fireworks," he said.

The author is freelance journalist based in Mexico City.