A Wonderful World 2006

In a opening moment that frames the story, a speech at a World Bank conference proclaims that Mexico has vanquished poverty and frames the country’s progress as a fixed achievement. Against that backdrop, the film follows Juan Pérez, a humble homeless man who loves Rosita, a woman of similar means. He dreams aloud of giving her a life he believes she deserves—things as simple as a car, a house, and the chance to build a family together.

Juan Pérez, Damián Alcázar, drifts from one cold night to the next, until a rainy evening pushes him toward a rich couple’s home. He spots light and warmth through a window and slips into an unlocked office inside the World Financial Center, intent on spending the night there. But when a cleaner enters, he has nowhere to go and climbs out a window to a precarious platform outside. The cleaner closes the window, leaving him stranded. A crowd outside assumes he intends to jump, and the scene explodes into a media frenzy. Firefighters arrive to rescue him, and soon journalists swarm, asking what his motives might be and whether his views on globalization and neoliberal policy influenced his actions.

The sensational turn catches the attention of El Mercurio, a newspaper eager to spice up the morning edition. They frame the incident as a suicide attempt meant to prompt the state into action, laying the responsibility at the feet of the Secretary of Economy. In response, the government seeks out Juan Pérez, offering generous bribes and a promise of quiet, while his friends urge him to stage a second act to maximize the payoff. He obliges, and the stunt escalates when he actually falls from a building, turning him into a national headline. He survives but is hospitalized in a world-class facility, where the government covers his care and invites him to a press conference to voice his real motives. He denies being a pawn in a political deal.

As Pérez recovers and returns to life, he marries Rosita and moves into a polished, suburban home. Their wedding marks a new chapter, but the people who once stood beside him—the friends who cheered his first daring act—arrive later with the expectation of joining him. When they are rebuffed, they depart in anger, and attempts to imitate the earlier spectacle fail to capture the same attention. Meanwhile, the Secretary grows wary of the mounting protests and the political costs of appearing soft on poverty, ultimately arresting Pérez on petty charges. The new charges unleash a cascade of testimony from Pérez’s friends, journalists, and the hospital staff, who all become entangled in the case, and Pérez is sentenced to three years in prison, effectively cutting him off from Rosita and their life together.

Upon release, Pérez finds his home dilapidated and Rosita missing, believed dead by her family. The hidden world of the homeless encampment and the tunnel they once shared has been boarded up. In a turn of chance, he returns to the same rich couple’s home, and they provide him with sustenance. Eventually, he learns that Rosita is alive, living with her son, and a new sense of solidarity stirs among his old friends. The group begins to dream of action again, planning a push for a socialist revolution as they walk down Paseo de la Reforma with a red flag. Their attempt to breach the Secretary’s fortress-like residences is thwarted by security.

In a final irony, the Secretary achieves a pinnacle of prestige by winning the Nobel Prize for Economics. Back at the lavish home that once symbolized the life Pérez longed for, his friends gather for a celebratory dinner, which, from the outside, appears to be a triumph of success and happiness. Yet the camera reveals the harsh truth of the scene: the house belongs to the same wealthy couple from the beginning, and their bodies lie scattered on the lawn, hinting at the moral catastrophe that underpins the film’s social critique.

Throughout, the film maintains a careful balance between stark social observation and intimate human stakes. Juan Pérez’s yearning for a better life for Rosita drives him into political and media maelstroms, while Rosita herself embodies hope and resilience. The power dynamics between poverty and wealth, media sensationalism, and political theater are laid bare in a narrative that is as much about personal longing as it is about systemic failure. The result is a provocative, bleakly funny meditation on fame, inequality, and the fragile line between protest and performance.