James Bond: The Ambassador of Día de los Muertos

James Bond and the production of the film "invented" the Día de los Muertos Parade. It was in 2015 when, on the big screen, James Bond appeared dressed as a human skeleton, walking across the rooftops of colonial buildings in Mexico City. At the same time, in the bustling streets, a fictional parade was celebrated with hundreds of catrinas, alebrijes, and other beings that gathered in a spectacular celebration. The following year, the Government of Mexico City decided to make this parade a reality. Since then, every November 2nd, with the exception of 2020 due to the pandemic, this celebration has been held. According to the Head of Government, the event generated an estimated economic impact of 25 million pesos (about 1.2 million euros).

In addition, the success of another production, Disney's blockbuster Coco—the story of a mexican boy who travels to the underworld chasing his dream of becoming a musician—has contributed to the growing interest in the Día de Muertos.The colorful images and dreamlike visions in the film have been part of the motivation behind the popularization of this celebration, which has seen a growing demand for related products and events in the United States and, increasingly, in Europe.

On November 2, 2024, at the ninth edition of the parade, the Government of Mexico City reported that approximately 1.3 million people gathered to witness the celebration. In one of her YouTube videos, Eva María Beristain interviewed people from the United States who expressed that their main reason for visiting Mexico at this time was to attend the Día de Muertos Parade. Outside the event, there were people offering makeup services, and a long line of people waited to have their faces painted as catrinas.

But before this parade was organized, how did Mexicans celebrate the Día de Muertos? As a child, my mother and I used to set up a small offering in a corner of the living room. It was modest, very different from the altars that are often seen on the internet today: some papel china, fruits, pan de muerto, glasses of water, calaveritas with the names of our loved ones, and finally, photographs in honor of our deceased. At night, when my parents were asleep, I would sneak over to the altar to eat  pan de muerto. This act felt almost like an extreme sport to me, as, while it satisfied my gluttony, it also filled me with a mixture of guilt and fear. I had a tremendous fear that my deceased grandfather would come into my room in the middle of the night to scold me for eating his pan de muerto—the pan he had longed for year after year.

 

Image 1. Second altar we built in our current flat.

 

Over time, this tradition faded in my family, especially during my university years when pan de muerto was replaced by parties, rum with Coca-Cola, and mezcal. However, when I arrived in Dublin at the end of October 2021, Andrea decided to set up a small offering. And when I say "small," I mean that in the few square meters of our studio. Andrea printed photos from her phone of her grandparents and her dog Candy. It was also the first time she tried to make pan de muerto… without success.

A year later, a baker friend explained to us that at higher altitudes, yeast works more quickly, speeding up the fermentation process. In this regard, Mexico City, at 2,200 meters above sea level, is an ideal place for baking. Another challenge in Dublin was the kitchen: our small oven was next to a window, and if any smoke was produced, the fire alarm would go off throughout the building. Through trial and error, and with the help of instant yeast and the proper flour for these altitude and climate conditions, she managed to get the dough to rise enough.

 

 

 

Image 2. Pan de muerto that Andrea made last year, just before putting it back in the oven.

 

After achieving the base, similar to a brioche but with the addition of "bones" and a "skull" molded from the same dough, the bread is baked again and finally covered with white sugar. The traditional flavor includes a touch of orange blossom, or azahar essence. There are many variations of pan de muerto: filled with cream, cajeta, or covered in puff pastry. There are also vegan versions, with a potato base. Some creative interpretations of pan de muerto include the "Pambamuerto," which combines the shape of pan de muerto with the flavors of a pambazo.

This year, I was surprised to find a lot people selling pan de muerto in the 'secret' Facebook groups for Mexicans in Dublin. Perhaps in the coming years, we will see a greater influence of Mexican baking, particularly pan de muerto in Tesco or Lidl. Simultaneously, in the aesthetic and commercial realm, the presence of this celebration in cultural spaces and events around Dublin is becoming more noticeable. As every year, the Mexican Embassy in Ireland organized an exhibition of altars, food stalls, and sales of Mexican products. The Mariachi of San Patricio performed at a pub selling tequila sponsored by José Cuervo, and in the streets, there were more people dressed as catrinas. For some bars, this celebration became the perfect excuse to use the tradition to promote their events and alcohol sales. For example, one bar promoted their Día de Muertos event on Instagram with a photo of an altar; however, among its elements, there were two slices of sourdough bread and a container that seemed to have water. The post's description talked about altars in Mexico and Latin America, explaining the meaning of the altar. At the end of the text, there was an invitation to their party called "Disco Eleganza." According to another post, one of the activities for the altar was that attendees could bring photographs of their deceased loved ones to place on the altar. 

 The phenomenon of Día de Muertos, which moves between tradition, modernity, and Hollywood vibes, reveals the different meanings and levels of interpretation it can have. Perhaps it is the attraction of the exotic, the simplification that Mexicans celebrate the Día de Muertos because it is synonymous with happiness and revelry, that leads to superficial proposals designed to sell margaritas and event tickets. At the same time, the introduction of this celebration in other contexts opens the door to discussions about the generation of these cultural practices outside Mexico, allowing them to be reinterpreted. Such is the case with pan de muerto, which invites those of us who make it to experiment with local ingredients and adjust techniques to conditions like altitude and climate—elements that directly influence the fermentation and baking process. This technical adaptation reflects how the migration of traditions not only involves a cultural transfer but also a transformation that requires creativity and respect.