
Diego Luna
Martín de la Torre

“Not all goals are scored on the field.”
When a last-minute chance to host the 1986 World Cup appears, a cunning Mexican bureaucrat, armed with nothing but guts and audacity, cons his way through FIFA to beat the United States, but in a country of power games, every victory has a price.
I’ve seen this trick before. A scrappy underdog story, a last-minute bid, a nation rallying behind a dream—only to realize the real game was never on the field. Mexico 86 knows that too, and it leans into the ugliness with a grin. This isn’t Escape to Victory; it’s The Wolf of Wall Street in polyester suits, with a World Cup bid as the ultimate con.
The film follows Martín de la Torre (Diego Luna), a mid-level bureaucrat who stumbles into the chance of a lifetime: Mexico, still reeling from the 1985 earthquake, might host the 1986 World Cup if he can outmaneuver the U.S. in a last-minute FIFA vote. Martín’s weapon isn’t a playbook—it’s audacity. He lies, cheats, and schmoozes his way through backrooms, boardrooms, and bedrooms, all while the country’s elite circle like vultures.
The problem? Martín is the vulture. And the film, for all its energy, can’t decide whether to celebrate him or bury him.

Luna is magnetic here, the kind of actor who can make a smirk feel like a threat. He plays Martín as a man who’s always one step ahead—until he isn’t. The performance is a tightrope walk between charm and sleaze, and Luna nails it.
But the script keeps pulling its punches. One minute, Martín’s a lovable rogue; the next, he’s a corrupt opportunist. The tonal whiplash isn’t just a flaw—it’s the point.
Mexico in the 1980s was a place of contradictions: economic collapse and unchecked capitalism, tragedy and spectacle, a World Cup that somehow happened despite everything. The film wants to have it both ways, and sometimes, that works. Other times, it feels like it’s hedging its bets.
"A lively, well-acted World Cup satire powered by Diego Luna’s charisma, but held back by an unfocused script and a tone that wobbles between sharp drama and throwaway comedy."
Praise clusters around Diego Luna’s performance and the way the film turns a potentially dry political story into an energetic character piece set against the 1986 World Cup bid, with several viewers enjoying the blend of history, satire, and a convincingly rendered 1980s atmosphere. latestnetflix.com's view is that at the same time, many are disappointed that the plot drifts away from the tournament into a loose biopic of Martín de la Torre, with rushed time jumps, a composite protagonist, and humor that undercuts emotional stakes, making the experience entertaining but less impactful than the real events deserve.
Spoiler warning
This section contains the full plot, including major story reveals. Overview above stays spoiler-free.
The first fight was not about FIFA. It was about a cramp.
Mexico 86, Gabriel Ripstein's Netflix film about how Mexico grabbed the 1986 World Cup after Colombia walked away, includes a scene where a character based on Hugo Sanchez refuses a penalty against West Germany. Another player needles him about Real Madrid. Sanchez told ESPN the beat was guesses, inventions, and many lies, latestnetflix.com contends, and that nobody from the production asked him.
Diego Luna, who stars as the fictional fixer Martin de la Torre and executive produces, answered at the launch. He said it is not a documentary, and that the film opens by saying some of these things are true. Ripstein was blunter about that scene. The dialogue, he said, is invention. Variety quoted the opening card as "Some of these things did happen." That line is doing a lot of work.
Martin de la Torre never existed. Luna said so on a film podcast. The football institutions keep their real names. His character does not. Infobae and the source book point at Rafael del Castillo, president of the Mexican Football Federation from 1980 to 1988. Del Castillo died on March 3, 2026, weeks after the federation put him in its Hall of Presidents, and weeks before the movie reached Cineteca screens.
The script, by Ripstein and Daniel Krauze, draws on Francisco Javier Gonzalez's 2022 book El 86. The documented spine is not invented. Colombia's president Belisario Betancur pulled the 1986 tournament on November 5, 1982. Mexico, the United States, and Canada bid. Mexico won in Stockholm on May 20, 1983. Guillermo Canedo sat on FIFA's board while helping run Televisa. Henry Kissinger lobbied for the U.S. bid. The film turns that scramble into a charm offensive, with bags of cash and a mustache. The New York Times titled its review "This Underdog Has Bags of Cash."
Gaumont's own English synopsis briefly named the bureaucrat Rafael del Castillo, then other materials settled on Martin de la Torre. The mix-up is the whole movie in miniature. A real official, a fake name, a studio page that could not decide which one to print.
Variety's Guy Lodge called the June 5, 2026 Netflix drop "opportunistically timed," landing as the 2026 World Cup opened in the United States, Canada, and Mexico, the first triple host and Mexico's third turn. He also said the film "doesn't cut very deep," a 96-minute crowdpleaser that likes Luna more than it likes the rot. Ripstein told Proceso the part was perfect for Diego and Diego was perfect for that character, adorable and dark in the same register.
Gaumont USA made it with Netflix on the Mexican cinema slate. What's on Netflix tied that push to the same local-film language used for Roma and Bardo. Theatrical dates in Mexico started May 24 at the Cineteca Nacional and a string of independent houses. Streaming followed on June 5. Karla Souza plays the downstairs neighbor. Daniel Gimenez Cacho plays Emilio Azcarraga, known as El Tigre. Memo Villegas plays Sanchez as comedy, which Luna said was never meant as a replica. The official trailer sells audacity and zero scruples.
Nobody is arguing that Mexico hosted in 1986. The argument is the calendar. Netflix put a bribe comedy next to a World Cup Mexico is hosting again. The real federation president died while the fictional one was still in the trailer. The country's most famous striker left the screening furious. Ripstein's previous feature, 600 Miles, was Mexico's Oscar submission. This one wants a crowd. Sanchez wanted a phone call.
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