Hola, amigos de la muerte (and life)! As we approach Día de los Muertos, that gorgeously bittersweet time when the veil between worlds gets as thin as tissue paper, it’s time to talk movies that really get the concept of this special time: the joy, the annual remembrances, and yes, the bones.
Día de los Muertos isn’t Halloween’s moody cousin. It’s a vibrant reunion, where memory is a passport and love is the visa. Filmmakers have been drawn to its imagery (marigolds! calacas! ofrendas!) and, more importantly, to its soul: remembrance. Here are essential films, animated and live action, that bring the holiday’s heart to life, plus how they differ in the stories they tell.
Let’s cue up some favorites that keep the marigold bridge glowing bright. If you’d like to stream the movie or buy the DVD, click on the link in the film’s title. It’s an Amazon affiliate link, so you can help support my work with a referral.
The Modern Classics
Coco (2017)
Pixar’s Coco follows Miguel, a music-struck 12-year-old who tumbles into the Land of the Dead and discovers that remembering our loved ones keeps them present. It pairs luminous world-building (that marigold bridge!) with an emotional thesis: forgetting is a second death; remembrance is an act of love. The film premiered in Mexico just before the holiday, became a cultural touchstone, and won Oscars for Best Animated Feature and Best Original Song.
Why it matters: Coco makes ritual legible to audiences of all ages without flattening it. Ofrendas aren’t spooky props; they’re intergenerational lifelines. Use this one to introduce kids (and certain adults) to the idea that grief can be tender, musical, and deeply communal. Watch the video clip above where Miguel’s abuela tells him about the traditions associated with the ofrenda. You can also read more about this film here at The Family Plot Blog.
The Book of Life (2014)
Before Coco there was Guillermo del Toro–produced, Jorge R. Gutiérrez–directed The Book of Life. It’s a wood-carved pop-opera where matador-musician Manolo journeys through the Land of the Remembered and the Land of the Forgotten on the Day of the Dead. It’s a candy-bright fable about choice, legacy, and who gets to write our stories.
Why it matters: Gutiérrez’s vision is joyfully stylized (think mariachi meets papel picado) and it nails a core idea of the holiday: memory sustains. The “Remembered” thrive; the “Forgotten” fade. That’s theology, made kinetic.
The Big Wish (original title Día de Muertos) (2019)
This Mexican animated feature follows Salma, an orphan who uses a mysterious book to seek her parents on Día de Muertos. Salma lives in the Mexican village of Santa Clara and has never known her parents. All her life she has been told that she was abandoned. But from a very young age, she knows that she must search for her true identity.
By chance, she discovers a book that recounts the history of all the inhabitants of her village. With her adopted brothers Jorge and Pedro, she finds herself propelled into the magical and moving world of her ancestors. It’s a smaller film than Coco or Book of Life, but its focus on longing, lineage, and found family fits the season perfectly. Plus, it’s authentically homegrown.
The Deep Cuts (For Grown-Ups Who Like Their Sugar Skulls with a Side of Existentialism)
Macario (1960)
A masterpiece of Mexican cinema, Macario unfolds on the eve of Día de los Muertos. A starving woodcutter meets the Devil, God, and Death, then makes a fateful bargain. Shot by the legendary Gabriel Figueroa, it’s a morality tale steeped in Indigenous, Catholic, and folk traditions. The film was Mexico’s first Oscar nominee and remains a haunting meditation on hunger, fate, and the democracy of death. (Death, as we know, keeps a very egalitarian calendar.) View a trailer at IMDb.com.
Under the Volcano (1984)
John Huston adapts Malcolm Lowry’s novel as one long Day-of-the-Dead descent, tracking an ex-British consul (Albert Finney) through 24 hours of celebration and personal ruin in 1938. The festivities whirl around him—parades, masks, altars—while he wrestles with ghosts that don’t need makeup. It’s not about the holiday’s cosmology, but the setting underscores the theme: we are always in conversation with our dead, even when we refuse to listen. View a trailer at IMDb.com.
“Wait, Wasn’t There a James Bond Parade?”
You’re thinking of Spectre (2015). Its opening chase stages a spectacular Day-of-the-Dead parade in Mexico City’s Zócalo. It was so spectacular that the city created a real parade the following year. The spectacle is now an annual draw, blending new pageantry with older traditions. Cinema imitating culture imitating cinema: how very on-brand for a holiday where time is porous.
What These Films Get Right (and Where to Watch for Teachable Moments)
Remembrance sustains existence. Whether it’s Coco’s disappearing souls or Book of Life’s Lands of the Remembered/Forgotten, memory is nourishment. Build that ofrenda, tell those stories, pass the photos. Your love is the bridge.
Death as companion, not enemy. Macario literalizes Death as a character who is neither villain nor fairy godmother, just… inevitable. It pairs beautifully with conversations about accepting mortality without losing our appetite for life.
Community over horror. Hollywood often files “dead” under “zombie buffet.” Día de los Muertos films remind us the holiday is a reunion, not a scare. Even when Under the Volcano goes dark, the community rituals keep pulsing around the protagonist like a drumbeat he can’t quite hear.
Beware of “parade-washing.” The Bond-inspired parade is dazzling and fun, but newer. Traditional observances are intimate: home ofrendas, cemetery visits, candles, food, music, storytelling. Share both, and note how living traditions evolve without losing their spine.
A Simple Viewing Guide
For first-timers or families: Coco, The Book of Life.
For cinephiles: Macario (essential).
For moodier grown-ups: Under the Volcano (pair with a discussion on grief and self-destruction).
For spectacle trivia: Cue up the Spectre opener, then show photos of the real Mexico City parade that followed.
Programming Ideas for Your Celebration
Memory + Movies Night: Begin at the ofrenda. Invite guests to share a 60-second story about someone on the altar. Then screen Coco or Book of Life and end with pan de muerto and a sing-along (guitars encouraged; shoe-throwing discouraged).
Classic/Contemporary Double Feature: Macario followed by Coco. Talk about what’s endured across six decades: candles, flowers, food, and the belief that love remembers what life forgets.
Local vs. Spectacle Chat: Show the Spectre opening, then discuss how traditions adapt (and what we want to protect). If anyone says “James Bond invented Día de los Muertos,” you have my permission to revoke their candy skull. With love.
Final Thought
Día de los Muertos is a yearly reminder that grief can be gorgeous as well as participatory. These films don’t trivialize death; they domesticate it, inviting us to set another place at the table. Watch one, light a candle, tell a story. In the flicker of memory, the veil gets thin.