Hidden amongst all of the feature frights on this year’s FrightFest programming were a smattering of documentaries. Each delved into some interesting subject matters, with Alaric S. Rocha’s Where is Juan Moctezuma presenting one of the most intriguing. So intriguing that as the dust settled THN decided to dig into the project a little deeper by speaking with director Alaric S. Rocha.
Firstly, tell us who Juan F. Moctezuma II is.
Moctezuma is a fictional character from my imagination. He’s a Trojan horse to smuggle audiences into the rich, overlooked history of Mexican cinema and its themes.
Juan Francisco Moctezuma II was a little-known but deeply influential Mexican horror director whose five-film canon stretched across three decades. He shifted styles from glossy studio work to scrappy underground experiments, always carrying the essence of Mexican culture. In 1977 he was set to bring that voice abroad with 1000 Paths of Death—two decades before Del Toro, Cuarón, or Iñárritu—but then he vanished, stealing the footage and disappearing.
I’d not heard of Juan before. How did you go about approaching such a seemingly unknown figure?
I dove headfirst into Mexican cinema—reading, watching, talking to the filmmakers and scholars, even living in Mexico and visiting the places where those movies were shot. Out of that immersion, I carved out a hidden corner where Juan F. Moctezuma II could “exist,” woven right into the world I was discovering.
You get some pretty notable talking heads like Brian Yuzna (Society), Lisandra Tena (Fear the Walking Dead) and Álvaro Rodríguez (Machete). What was it like talking to these genre stalwarts for this project?
Honestly, the most notable name here should be Arturo Ripstein. He’s been making films for over 60 years—he started with Buñuel, worked with Peter O’Toole and Marilyn Monroe, and his film is literally the cover of the only textbook on Mexican cinema. The fact that he doesn’t always get recognized outside of Mexico is exactly why I made this film: to shine a light on that rich, pre-90s history.
As for Brian, Lisandra, and Álvaro—I’m lucky to call them friends. Talking with them about Moctezuma and about cinema in general was pure joy. It also gave me something personal: proof that I belong in this world, both as a Mexican and as a filmmaker.
The film skirts a fine line between reality and artifice. Was it hard to find the balance between the two?
I approached the project with what I call “method directing.” I became so immersed in the story and character I created that Moctezuma felt real to me. That intensity benefited the film, but the real challenge came when I had to share it with the world as a mockumentary. When my “character” introduces Cine Ópera or Itzpapalotl to the audience, that excitement you see isn’t performance, it’s genuine. I wanted audiences to feel that same thrill of discovery.
My goal was always to give audiences a jaw-dropping, edge-of-your-seat experience where they ask, “How have I not heard of this director?!” I’ve always been in awe of the story of the Lumière brothers showing Arrival of a Train and audiences running out of the theatre because they thought it would hit them. Even after they knew better, there was still magic in movie images decades later. A spaceship, a castle, a monster, people would wonder, “How did they do that?!” The sad truth today is that the answer is usually just, “CGI.” I’m so grateful practical effects are making a comeback. I’m especially excited for Del Toro’s Frankenstein because he insisted on going all-practical. With Moctezuma, my goal was to create that same experience, where people run out of the theatre and straight onto Google, convinced they’ve just discovered a forgotten Mexican filmmaker. And while it’s not hard to uncover the truth, my hope is that in an age of fake news, people are inspired to do their own research and think about what’s real and what’s fictionalized.
On a technical note, building Moctezuma’s body of work was its own balancing act. We leaned into the scrappy, low-budget B-movie vibe to make the films feel authentic, even planting a few “mistakes” for texture. But at the same time, we kept the timing, acting, and effects sharp enough to meet modern expectations. The line was always: authentic, not inept.
This film acts as an effective introduction to Mexican cinema of the 70s. If you could recommend one film to people from this era, what would it be?
Since Juan F. Moctezuma II was partly inspired by Juan López Moctezuma (whose daughter generously gave us her blessing), I’d have to point people to Alucarda (1977). It’s a delirious, blood-soaked classic and it features Claudio Brook, one of Mexico’s most prolific horror actors, who later played the villain in Del Toro’s Cronos.
Beyond that, I’d recommend The Skeleton of Mrs. Morales (1960), a brilliant Hitchcockian tale of the perfect murder, and of course you can’t talk Mexican cinema without El Santo. Santo and the Blue Demon vs. Dracula and the Wolfman (1973) is pure pulp fun.
How did it feel for Where is Juan Moctezuma to finally play in front of an audience? How was your FrightFest experience?
This has been a decade-long project, stitched together from Moctezuma shorts and interviews gathered all over the world—patched piece by piece into a feature. For years it was hard to explain what the film even was, and now I can finally just say, “just watch it.” Meeting Alan Jones at Cannes and having him take a leap of faith after seeing a rough cut meant the world to me. As with all films, ours was a collective effort. My producer, Rana Joy Glickman guided me while over 300 people, including my family, helped bring it to life. Standing in front of an audience at FrightFest felt like the payoff for all of us. Most of all, it reminded me why I do this: filmmaking should be fun, and we had a blast making Moctezuma.
What is the next step of Where is Juan Moctezuma‘s journey? When can audiences expect to see it?
FrightFest is just the beginning. We have submitted to a number of other festivals and are waiting to hear back, and from there our ultimate goal is distribution. Hopefully audiences will start seeing Moctezuma pop up in theaters and festivals around the world.
Is this the end of Moctezuma’s story for you?
Officially, yes. I’ve been making films under the Moctezuma pen name for ten years. Even a few projects I released as Alaric S. Rocha I still thought of as part of the Moctezuma canon. Making the Moctezuma films was a way to sharpen my skills as a filmmaker—I had to mimic a style, a look, an era. But now it’s time to free myself from those restrictions and make an Alaric S. Rocha film, not a Juan F. Moctezuma II film. And I’m ready!
That doesn’t mean Moctezuma spirit disappears. I hope to make a feature out of Moctezuma’s missing 1000 Paths of Death, – with Moctezuma’s blessing 😉 I want to keep using those scrappy, down-and-dirty, practical effects techniques from the ‘60s and ‘70s, because what excites me is bringing back the magic of cinema—making people lean forward and ask, “How did they do that!?” My hope is to make films that “show the strings,” so audiences know there’s no CGI involved, but still walk away scratching their heads asking themselves, “HOW did they do that?!”
