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The colorful masks, the high-­flying moves, the disgrace of having one’s secret identity revealed before a cheering crowd—luchadores, aka Mexican wrestlers, have long captured the country’s fascination. But can they also solve its problems? Arturo Perez Torres’ documentary Super Amigos follows five “social wrestlers” who use what meager fame and fortune they’ve achieved to help cure society’s various ills. The potbellied Super Barrio, Defender of Poor Tenants and the Nightmare of Voracious Landlords, is hard to take seriously as he visits a family’s apartment in full costume and offers advice on how to stall their imminent eviction. But when his efforts end up saving 22 families from being kicked out of their building, it becomes apparent that at least one of these guys has his shit together. If only Torres’ film wasn’t such a mess. The comic-book-style animated segments that introduce each wrestler’s origin detract from their already limited credibility with the audience; the clumsily shot and edited interviews offer little insight into the protagonists’ motivations, and the triumphant achievements that should be the climax of each wrestler’s activist mission mostly come across as sadly ineffective gestures. At the end of the day, all the pink-jumpsuit-sporting Super Gay has accomplished is marching in a gay pride parade; poor Ecologista Universal, meanwhile, spends eight days making a 200-mile trek from Michoacan to Mexico City just to chastise Wal-Mart employees for selling live Christmas trees. There’s no denying that the economical, sociological, and environmental issues depicted in Super Amigos plague Mexico. But Torres’ film does little to prove that the men behind the masks are any more capable of fixing the problems than anyone else.