'South Park' creators renovate a beloved restaurant, and find nostalgia is pricey

Maybe because most of us come from somewhere else, Americans just love replicas of foreign places — William Randolph Hearst’s faux European castle in San Simeon, Calif.; Paris Las Vegas with its half-size Eiffel Tower and mini Louvre; or the mock Alpine village you find in, of all places, Helen, Ga. Creating a giddy atmosphere that Umberto Eco dubbed "hyperreality," such crazily ambitious simulacra fill nearly everyone with childish delight.

This includes Trey Parker and Matt Stone of South Park and The Book of Mormon fame. Although notorious for their cynical humor, both harbor a profound affection for one of the places they adored as kids: Casa Bonita, a 50,000 square foot attraction in a Lakewood, Colo., strip mall that has been dubbed the Disneyland of Mexican restaurants. It’s an Anglo businessman’s fantastical riff on an old Mexican village, one decked out with Old West outlaws, volcanoes, cliff divers and even a gorilla that runs through caverns studded with stalactites.

More than half a century after opening in 1974 — complete with TV ads featuring Ricardo Montalban! — this once-spectacular crowd-puller had fallen on such desperate times that it was doomed to close. Then it was bought out of bankruptcy "as is" by Stone and Parker, who vowed to save the beloved Colorado landmark and return it to its former glory.

Their battle to do so is the subject of the enjoyable new documentary ¡Casa Bonita, Mi Amor! Directed by Arthur Bradford and produced by MTV Documentary Films, the movie’s a treat, weaving together great archival footage, excerpts from South Park and Elvis’ movie Fun in Acapulco, plus countless scenes of Parker and Stone’s amused horror when they hear the latest reason why their labor of love is becoming a money-pit.

After a zippy capsule history of Casa Bonita, with its Pepto-Bismol-pink facade and blue fountain out front, the movie returns to the present to show everything it takes to recreate a mecca whose true meaning lay in the feelings it once induced. Because the original Casa Bonita was legendary for lousy food, they bring on an executive chef, Dana Rodriguez, who’s been nominated for James Beard Awards. She takes Parker to Oaxaca so he can soak up the atmosphere and get inspired.

Yet wondrous inspiration bumps into un-wondrous reality. Turns out that their new property is a dilapidated death trap in which everything — electricity, plumbing, air conditioning — must be redone. A renovation originally budgeted at $6 million suddenly balloons to a new estimate of $20 million plus.

Now, as ¡Casa Bonita Mi Amor! chronicles the high price of nostalgia, it also offers an offhand glimpse at one of pop culture’s signature creative teams. It doesn’t take long to spot the differences between the two longtime friends — Parker is clearly the dreamy, creative one; Stone the shrewd whetstone on which he sharpens his ideas. What you may find surprising is the secret sentimentality of guys whose comedy takes such pride in finding nothing sacred. Parker, in particular, betrays a sweetness in his romantic attachment to the innocent pleasures of childhood. He’s also a perfectionist. We see his artistic process, fussing over and tweaking every creative detail of the project.

As their crew desperately races to have everything perfect by opening day — spending even more millions along the way — it becomes clear that Parker and Stone are chasing a ghost or maybe a paradox. The original Casa Bonita was a 1970s inauthentic version of 19th-century Mexico, but to recapture its magic this new version can’t be the same Casa Bonita that Parker remembers so fondly. Just as Indiana Jones' movies had to use top-drawer talent to emulate cheap, old movie serials, so their restaurant has to meet today’s expectations — tastier food, sharper entertainment — or visitors won’t find it as thrilling as the original. To feel the same, it has to be different.

By the time Casa Bonita finally reopens — there is a happy ending — Parker and Stone have done something that could hardly be more quintessentially American: They’ve spent a fortune to make a copy of a Mexican-themed restaurant that’s actually better than the original.