telenovela Archives - Girls With Guns

Miss Adrenaline: A Tale of Twins

By Jim McLennan August 1, 2024 February 24, 2024 Review

★★★
“Life going in cycles.”

The concept of twins, separated at birth, is one which has been used frequently in films and television. Sometimes for comedic effect, such as Arnold Schwarzenegger and Danny DeVito in Twins, or the two Jackie Chans in Twin Dragons. But also for dramatic impact: the most famous example is probably that of Luke and Leia in the Star Wars franchise, who were parted in order to hide them from their father. In our genre, Orphan Black works along similar lines. But this Colombian telenovela goes full-bore into it, across almost the entire duration of its sixty-seven episodes, with the concept a young woman adopting her twin’s identity being at the core of the show.

It begins with Romina Paez (Molina), who is a BMX champion in the Mirla, a poor neighbourhood. After winning a race, she uses the interview to rail against the loan sharks who prey on the locals, offering much-needed money at extortionate rates, and extracting repayment with brutal violence. This interview has two results. Firstly, the Chitiva brothers who run the loan sharkage, are unimpressed, and decide Romina should pay. Secondly, it brings Romina to the attention of rich girl Laura Vélez (also Molina), who sees Romina is her spitting image. She goes to investigate, and finds that they actually have a common mother. Mom used to work for Laura’s dad, got pregnant and had them both. Dad took Laura to his family as “an adoptee”, while Romina remained with her natural mother.

These two elements clash, when the Chitiva brothers order the assassination of Romina and her mother. Except, it’s actually Laura is killed, while visiting her mother in the barrio. Romina escapes, and decides the best option is to pretend to be dead, and indeed, pretend to be Laura. However, Romina/Laura is intent on bringing those responsible for “her” death to justice, and it’s not long before reports of Romina’s ghost haunting her old stomping grounds are passing around. Investigating from the position of law is honest cop Cristobal “Whiz” Ruíz, who eventually comes to know Romina’s secret. But in another twist, the crime lord at the top of the tree, above the Chitivas… is Laura’s mother, Virgina Vélez (León).

Yeah, it’s a fairly ridiculous concept, and what unfolds over the rest of the show often teeters on the brink of implausibility. While I get the “twins” thing, the idea that after twenty entirely separate years of upbringing, in utterly different circumstances, they would still perfectly resemble each other physically, to the extent that even their own parents can’t tell them apart, strains credulity. Romina basically blames everything from the sudden loss of memory to her changes in personality on a head injury, and after a quick visit to the doctor, who naturally pronounces her right as rain, that’s the end of the matter. She still has to manage her double life, and the ever-expanding circle of people who know about it, on both sides of the class divide.

Inevitably, there’s a whole lot of soap-opera nonsense going on here, across the uniformly photogenic cast. Laura’s boyfriend falls for Romina, Whiz falls for Romina, Whiz’s colleague falls for him, and it all gets incredibly messy emotionally. This is probably the least interesting part of the show, though it does occasionally work. The final episode, for example, has Whiz pouring out heart in wedding karaoke, but it’s done with such obvious and heartfelt sincerity, that it powers past the obvious schmaltzy aspects, and I was genuinely happy for the man. On the other side, Leo Chitiva (Bury) is the most interesting of the low-level villains. He’s another one who loved Romina, but his criminal life is incompatible with that, leaving him with difficult, yet interesting, choices.

I say “low-level,” because I think my favourite character is likely Virginia, especially as the show proceeds and she needs to become increasingly ruthless (as shown, top) as she struggles to escape the net closing around her. I would love to have seen a prequal series, explaining in more details exactly how she went from humble origins, both to running a major criminal organization, and also marrying her, apparently utterly oblivious husband. I get that some spouses are oblivious to their other halves being a serial killer, and also there’s Virginia’s “charitable foundation” which probably operates as a front. Still, I suspect I’d have at least something of a clue, if Chris was running the Cuban mafia out of the office here.

There is a bit of weirdness here: the Colombian version of the show runs for 67 episodes, but there are only 65 on Netflix. It’s possible there may also be differences in the ordering, but I haven’t been able to confirm that. I’m not sure why two episodes would not be available on Netflix. While other streaming services have removed episodes for content (such as the blackface episodes on It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia, I can’t think of anything here which would be so contentious. My instinct might be music rights: the show uses a lot of popular Colombian songs and artists, and getting clearance globally could have proved too problematic. I can’t say I noticed at the time, though it isn’t really the kind of show that demands 100% of your attention.

I would like to have seen Romina make more use of her BMX skills. This is significantly stressed earlier, but definitely fades out of the picture as we get deeper into things. But between Virginia and some of the other women characters, such as Whiz’s partner Alex Bedoya (Camila Rojas), who is occasionally a bit of a bad-ass, it does end up qualifying for the site. It ends more or less as you would expect, but if my somewhat shaky Spanish is to be believed, there is a second series on the way. Though with the Spanish language title perhaps being Romina Embarazada, which translates as “Pregnant Romina,” I’m not certain I’ll be writing about it here!

Dir: Rafael Martínez Moreno
Star: Juanita Molina, David Palacio, Zharick León, Kevin Bury
a.k.a. Romina Poderosa

La Reina Del Sur: season three

By Jim McLennan October 2, 2023 August 23, 2023 Review

★★★
“La reina de Sudamérica”

Even though the third season was announced just a couple of weeks after our review of the second series was posted, I was still surprised when it suddenly popped up on Netflix earlier this year. I’d simply forgotten about the show, it having been part of that bygone BC era (before COVID). But I was still pleased to see it, even if three years had passed since the last season. In screen-time, it appears to be even longer, perhaps four or more years since the end of the second series. Teresa Mendoza (del Castillo) is now in jail, the DEA having finally caught up with her in Australia, though her daughter Sofia escaped, taking up a new identity in Spain.

It’s not long before Teresa is sprung from jail, at the behest of her ex-husband Epifanio Vargas (Zurita), who is now the Mexican president. He has his sights set on extending the reign through quasi-legal means, but is getting opposition from the American government. To stop that, he needs a stash of evidence which details all the black ops activities carried out by the US government in South and Central America. The price for his breaking Teresa out, is her tracking down the “White Rider” who has the stash, and recovering it for Epifanio. He can then use it as leverage against the United States, to get them to drop their opposition to his “constitutional reforms.”

This leads to Teresa spending much of the series travelling around various locations in South America, including Peru, Colombia and Argentina. It’s not clear if this is related to del Castillo’s previous troubles with the Mexican government, resulting from her relationship with El Chapo. I kinda feel that should all have been squared away by now, but you never know. While a significant portion of the show does take place in Mexico, those are mostly the sections involving Epifanio. Only the very end appears to show Teresa there, and there’s nothing which couldn’t be staged easily enough, from outside the country. This contrasts to much of Teresa’s overseas scenes, which firmly place the actress on location.

There are quite a lot of familiar faces for this one. There’s the long-running relationship between Teresa and Russian mobster, Oleg Yosikov (Gil). This is somewhat reflected in the love triangle of her daughter, now very much her own young woman. Sofia has to decide between Oleg’s son, Fedor, and street-kid Mateo Mena. He rescues Sofia from a sticky situation, and those who want to use Sofia to force her mother into compliance with their wishes. There’s also faithful sidekick Batman, who has been with Teresa since the beginning. On the other side, as well as her ex-husband, whose power is now grown to such an extents as to be a real threat, there’s long-running DEA nemesis Ernie Palermo. He brought Teresa in, and is very keen for her to serve the rest of her eighty-five year prison sentence.

Interestingly, there’s more of a cross-border conspiratorial element here, focused on American politician, Senator Jane Kozar (Beth Chamberlin). She’s very keen for the evidence of dirty Yankee deeds not to come to light, and Palermo is the tip of the spear in those efforts. However, his repeated failure to deliver on Kozar’s needs, eventually leads to a shift in loyalties, after she tries to get rid of him. Similarly, after President Vargas has got his hands on what he needs, his ex-wife becomes surplus to requirements, and he blows up the mine in which she and her team find the data. He then brokers a deal with Kozar, while Palermo joins with Mendoza for the final face-off, at an dinner in Mexico, where Kozar has gone to cement the alliance.

This all unfolds over the course of sixty episodes, each running about 40 minutes, from “Previously…” to “On the next episode…” You’ll understand this gives plenty of room for plot threads, and the above barely even scratches the surface. There’s family disagreements, pregnancies that might or might be unwanted, betrayals, life both high- and low-, and much more. It does feel as if the focus here was considerably more split than previously. It seems like Epifanio’s palace intrigues, including his current wife and her desire to escape with their son, occupy more time than Teresa’s own problems. Add on the stuff north of the Rio Grande, and I can’t help wishing they remembered about the title of the show a bit more.

That said, it’s certainly never dull, with every episode adding another twist, bringing another threat into play, or revealing another layer to one or more of the characters. The writers do a very good job of keeping all the different strands in play, and it never becomes difficult to understand. Everyone is given clear, strong motivations for what they do, and the veteran characters especially do well in terms of carrying the drama forward. I was somewhat less impressed with the younger players, such as Sofia, who comes over as a bit of a whiny teenager. Maybe she’ll grow on me, though I wouldn’t count on it. My tolerance for whiny teenagers isn’t what it was…

At this point, there has been no word of a fourth season. del Castillo herself said in February, “Yo creo que la tercera es la última,” which translates as, “I think that the third is the last.” After 12 years and 183 episodes, it has certainly been a journey, and I can’t blame her for wanting to move on. If this is the end – and the finale doesn’t resolve everything – I think it’s a good point to draw a line under the show. One major character receives everything they deserve at the hands of Teresa Mendoza (below), and it’s safe to say that it’ll be a long time before Senator Kozar decides to set foot across the border again. My mornings won’t be the same without La Reina, and I guess I’ll have to find other ways to practice my Spanish!

Showrunner: Marcos Santana
Star: Kate del Castillo, Antonio Gil, Humberto Zurita, Isabella Sierra

Senora Acero: Season three

By Jim McLennan May 25, 2022 January 25, 2022 Review

★★
“Third time’s the harm”

Halfway through the final installment, Chris came in. She paused, watching for a moment, then said, “They spend far too much time talking, and not enough time killing.” Just a shame she waited 93 episodes to express so succinctly one of the main problems with the series. For, even if the final arc had its share of bloodshed, if you average it out per show, it’s about the level of a mid-strength nosebleed. It certainly put the novela into narconovela. Though the problems began at the start – or, rather, the end of the second series where heroine Sara Aguilar was apparently gunned down. This being a show where escape from death was common, I spent the first 20 episodes waiting for her to return. Spoiler: she doesn’t.

Instead, attention turns to Vicenta “La Coyote” Rigores (Miranda), who turns out to be part of the Acero family. This brings her into conflict with all the Acero enemies, including Indio (Zárate), and Governor of Chihuahua, Chucho Casares (Goyri), who also runs an arms trafficking group. But she has allies on her side, including ICE agent Daniel Phillips (Franco), and some familiar faces from the first two seasons. That’s a very high overview. As you can imagine, with about 62 hours of episodes in this season to fill, there are a lot of threads being weaved (So. Many, Pregnancies) and chit-chat necessary to explain them all, as loyalties shift with the breeze.

Part of the problem is, how little of it has any impact. Another part is, as a legal immigrant to America, I am fiercely resistant to a heroine who smuggles people across the border – and that was even before the not-so veiled references to American politics. The two main ICE characters, Phillips and his boss Indio Cardena, are both depicted as corrupt – even if, in the former’s case, it’s a “good” kind of corruption, becoming sympathetic to migrants and their plight. Though on the evidence of this show, based on who’s crossing the border illegally, Trump may have had a point when he said Mexico weren’t sending their best… Say what you like about Sara Aguilar, she at least largely operated in her own country.

Another problem. Writing about the second series, I described supporting character Tuti as “our most “love to hate” character. Not just in the show, or narconovelas generally, but perhaps the history of our TV viewing.” Guess who gets an expanded role in season three? Nails on glass, people. There are some new characters I liked – hell, Cardena, until she went rogue – but it wasn’t enough. I was amused by how narconovela weddings go wrong with about the inevitability of pro wrestling weddings. Whether raided by ICE or the bride getting gunned down in her dress, while her groom is involved in a fist-fight, they never take place as intended.

With about 20 episodes to go, I came to the conclusion this would be the last season I would watch. While the action component did ramp up somewhat down the stretch, it wasn’t enough to make me second-guess my decision. With a further two seasons, totalling 146 more episodes, I was hard-pushed to see the show coming back, and so am content to draw a line under the Acero dynasty after this series.

Creator: Roberto Stopello
Star: Carolina Miranda, Luis Ernesto Franco, Jorge Zárate, Sergio Goyri

Senora Acero: Season two

By Jim McLennan May 3, 2021 April 23, 2021 Review

★★★½
“Sex ‘n’ drugs ‘n’ cartels rule.”

There are more famous narconovelas, such as La Reina Del Sur, but you can’t argue with the success of Senora Acero. Surviving for five seasons and a startling 387 episodes in the cut-throat world of Mexican television is no mean feat. Admittedly, there were hardly any characters who lasted the entirety of the show. But such is the nature of organized crime, especially in a show like this. Compared to the first season, it seems like the second helping significantly ramps up the action quotient. It feels like a single episode could not pass, without a car-chase, shoot-out, or at least guns being pointed at each other.

It begins with Sara Aguilar (Soto), a.k.a. “Senora Acero”, the woman of steel, sitting in prison, where she has been stuck for five years, awaiting formal sentencing [Mexican justice moves slowly, it would appear]. After her son is attacked, she escapes prison in order to help him, but gets caught and ends up back in jail, having been sentenced to a punitive 25 years. This is in part due to the interference of her estranged sister, Berta, who is now the private secretary to the Mexican President, and wields her influence maliciously to punish her sibling. But her best friend, Aracely (Litzy), finds the key to getting Sara’s sentence revoked, and her out of jail.

Life doesn’t exactly become much easier thereafter, as there’s still a state of near-war between the two main drug gangs. There’s the Jalisco cartel, led by Miguel Quintanilla, and Acasio “El Teca” Martínez, of the Tijuana cartel. Sara ends up taking the Jalisco side, stoked largely by her hatred of El Teca, and his chief henchman, “El Indio”, with whom Sara crossed paths in season one. However, that only fuels the fire as Martinez has long held a burning obsession with Sara. His guiding principal appears to be that if he can’t have Sara, nobody can. Sara has no problems using that obsession against him, but it’s a very dangerous game, especially when El Teca realizes he is being manipulated by her.

It also seems to delve significantly deeper into the relationship between the cartels and ‘legitimate’ business and political interests; quotes used advisedly. In this case, the corruption goes right up to the top, with the Mexican president very much in bed with the leader of one group of drug traffickers. Evidence of this connection is a powerful tool, though for obvious reasons, highly dangerous to anyone who possesses it. There is also the head of a major pharmaceutical company, who is using his company’s resources for less legal product; he thinks he can come up with a new drug that will give the high without the dangerous side effects.

The international aspect is well represented too, with another strong female character in Colombian drug lord (drug lady?) Briceida Montero, who seems fairly obviously inspired by Griselda Blanco, about whom we have written previously. There is an effort to involve Chinese traffickers at one point, though this doesn’t go far. On the other side, the DEA are involved. Though their gringo boss is most notable for Chris turning to me and expressing a fervent hope that, as I continue to learn Spanish, I do not sound like him when I speak the language. Mind you, she’s not exactly impressed with the gangster slang used by the likes of El Teca either. I’m clearly going to have to find posher series from which to pick up my diction…

The show does have one particularly memorable supporting character – though not in a good way. Marta Mónica Restrepo, a.k.a. ‘La Tuti’, is a sometime small scale drug dealer, sometime psychic, and always a slut, who also collects dolls. She ends up getting involved with… just about every male character who crosses her path, which makes her subsequent pregnancy resemble a daytime talk-show episode. Manipulative and fickle, she is easily our most “love to hate” character. Not just in the show, or narconovelas generally, but perhaps the history of our TV viewing. I suspect it’s entirely deliberate, so much credit to the writers, and actress Ana Lucía Domínguez, for making it so.

There’s another aspect we found more genuinely enjoyable. El Teca finds himself a doppelganger, in the form of an immigrant worker from Colombia. Also kidnapping the man’s wife and daughter for leverage, his double is used to fool both the authorities in the Jalisco cartel. While the technical aspects for the depiction of El Teca and his twin are primitive – it’s mostly shooting from behind the shoulder, with an obvious stand-in – the characters are so utterly different, it’s often difficult to believe the same actor is playing both parts. Again, credit where it’s due, to José Luis Reséndez, for bringing both men to life with his performance.

It is, however, Sara Aguilar’s show, and she is the Sun around which all the other bodies revolve, in their elliptical subplots (some of which I could have done without, such as that about one character’s dreams of musical stardom). Much like Teresa Mendoza in Queen of the South, it’s Sara’s fierce loyalty to those on her side which is her most defining characteristic. She’ll got through hell for them, including her son, even after he has been turned into a junkie by her enemies. Needless to say, that’s an act which will not go unpunished. The ending proves quite satisfactory in this area, although also has the kind of cliffhanger, with Sara apparently badly wounded, that will only be resolved in series three.

Despite the tease at the end of the opening credits, with Sara wielding a large, automatic weapon, and quite a lot of heavily-armed arguments, she isn’t quite as personally involved as I might have hoped. Still, I guess delegation is a significant part of being a good leader, isn’t it? This was certainly enjoyed, and became a staple of morning entertainment for me, over several months. I think Chris was even getting into it more than she’d admit, as she drifted through and got ready for work. It may be a while before I have the stamina to start the next season, however. For there’s ninety-three episodes in that…

Creator: Roberto Stopello
Star: Blanca Soto, Litzy, José Luis Reséndez, Lincoln Palomeque

La Reina Del Sur: season two

By Jim McLennan June 29, 2020 June 26, 2020 Review

★★★½
“The Queen comes home”

Nine years after the events of the first series, Teresa Mendoza (del Castillo) is no longer in the world of crime. She lives in Italy under a new identity, where she makes marmalade, has a hunky boyfriend and is concerned more with bringing up her daughter, Sofia (Sierra). But where would the telenovela fun be in that? Therefore. it’s not long before Sofia is kidnapped, and used as leverage to drag Teresa back into the murky world of narcotrafico. Except, it’s as much a political game this time, with her previous adversary, Epifanio Vargas (Zurita), is now running for President of Mexico. He orders Teresa to bring down the main rival for that position, by joining the gang of the drug-lord who is backing his rival’s campaign, and finding evidence which can exposie their connection. It’s not even that “simple”, with a lot of people who have long-standing scores to settle with Teresa, and the DEA lurking in the background, pulling strings on behalf of the American government.

It is certainly quite jet-setty. Perhaps because of del Castillo’s well-documented problems with the Mexican government, I’m not sure how many of her scenes were actually filmed locally. As well as Italy, it bounces around between her old stomping-ground of Malaga, Spain and Russia (reuniting Mendoza with Russian mob ally, Oleg Yosikov (Gil), though eventually settles down with the bulk of the action does take place in Mexico. There, Teresa has to round up some other old pals, to give her the necessary resources to infiltrate her target. Meanwhile, Sofia is proving quite the chip off the old block, and causing no end of problems for her captors – who include someone playing a rather dangerous double- or even triple-game. However, despite the plethora of plot threads – and the above is well short of being an exhaustive list – the script does generally pull off a very good job of delineating them without confusion.

Initially, it seemed like we might be in for a more action-oriented brand of Teresa, the first episode (embedded at the bottom, with English subs) ending with her chasing a car on a motor-bike and a rather spectacular stunt. Sadly, it only sustains this pace intermittently thereafter. To make up, we do get the very impressive Manuela, a.k.a Kira, played by Paola Núñez. A disgruntled former DEA agent, she’s one of those with a grudge against Ms. Mendoza, holding her responsible for the death of some family members. She’s definitely a bad-ass, and it’s always a pleasure seeing her and Teresa go toe-to-toe. There were some aspects of the story I did have issues with. For instance, in about a two-episode spell, we get three different cases of someone who should be dead, turning out not to be. That gets old. But all told, it’s a nicely-paced bit of television, that sustained my interest over its 60 episodes – even if it took me approaching six months to get through them all.

Star: Kate del Castillo, Humberto Zurita, Antonio Gil, Isabella Sierra

Jhansi Ki Rani

By Jim McLennan September 4, 2019 October 28, 2020 Review

★★★½
“I can only apologize.”

Not for the show, I should stress. But as a Brit… Wow, were were really such utter bastards to the Indians when the country was a colony? I was under the impression it was all tea and cricket. But the British, as depicted here, appear largely to be working entirely for the East Indian company, treating the local population with, at best, disdain, and often brutality. All the while, seeking to manipulate local politics (with, it must be said, the help of some Indians) to their own advantage. After 70 episodes of this, such is the guilt, I can barely enjoy my chicken tikka masala without giving it reparations.

I say 70 episodes, but the entire series is considerably longer. Wikipedia lists it as 408, but those are apparently 25-minute shows. Netflix seems to have doubled it up (bringing its length into line with the more traditional Hispanic telenovelas which I’ve previously reviewed). Yet even allowing for that, to this point they only seem to have about 30% of the show. They also shortened the title from its full name, Ek Veer Stree Ki Kahaani… Jhansi Ki Rani, which translates as Story of a Brave Woman… The Queen of Jhansi.

Simply based on the level of intrigue here, this feels like an Indian version of Game of Thrones. Albeit without the incest. Or the dragons. Or the budget. And is based on a real character, Lakshmibai. But it’s quite easy also to draw a line between Arya Stark and the teenage heroine here, Manikarnika (Gupta) a.k.a. Manu, neither caring one bit for ‘traditional’ behaviour. Manu, in particular, objects to the occupying British forces and their disrespectful treatment of the native population. So she crafts a secret identity, Kranti Guru, and uses this to fight back against the Brits, even (gasp!) desecrating the Union Jack. She’s helped by her mentor, Tatya Tope, who occasionally dons the mask as well, when necessary.

However, a literally stellar horoscope leads to Manu being betrothed to the Maharaja of Jhansi, Gangadhar Rao (Dharmadhikari). And this is my biggest issue. Cultural differences be damned, there is no way in which a prepubescent girl marrying a middle-aged man can seem appropriate, or other than incredibly creepy. Manu gets her first period in one of the final episodes, and the reaction of everyone can be summarised as, “Good, now you can give the king a heir.” [The reality was slightly less creepy: Lakshmibai did, indeed, marry the king at age 13. However, they didn’t have a son until she was in her twenties]

The British – already unhappy with Manu’s rebellious outbursts – are far from happy at the prospect of her marrying Gangadhar and continuing the line. Even before she arrives at the palace, there are backroom conspiracies involving some of his relatives (not least his own mother), who ally themselves with the colonialists for their mutual benefit. These schemes go up to and include multiple assassination plots against the king, and indeed, his bride-to-be. Time for Kranti Guru to come out again, particularly to face off against gold-toothed British psychopath Marshall (Verma). His relentless pursuit, without regard for who gets hurt, earns him Manu’s undying enmity. [Weirdly, he’s played by an Indian actor in “white face”, as are some – but not all – of the other English officers, some of whom are dubbed.]

To be honest, Manu’s action scenes are a bit crap, mostly consisting of her waving a sword around in severely choreographed battles. She’d last about two minutes against other teenage warrioresses, like Hanna or Hit-Girl. Still, she has a certain charm, not least for her razor-sharp intellect, which lets her argue with – and usually kick the mental ass of – religious scholars, politicians and the king. She also has an unshakeable faith that everyone is redeemable, and more than once, turns enemies into loyal allies. Most notable is dacoit (bandit) Samar Singh, initially hired to murder Manu. When the tables are turned, and she forgives him, he abandons his life of crime. That’s the level of devotion she inspires.

Run away, foreigner, run away!
This brave Manu riding the horse is Lakshmi Bai
Fire will rain on you, now you are doomed.
Look at the colourful India, India will defeat you.
She has come to claim your head, the Queen of Jhansi has come.
Run away foreigner, the Queen of Jhansi has come!

Despite its origins, there are no song-and-dance numbers, though the music still plays a significant, if repetitive part. The song quoted above shows up in every other episode, and the re-use of certain cues could be turned into a drinking game, e.g. take a shot every time that “sad trombone”-like arpeggio sting is heard. However, the most defining style element is the reaction shot. It seems nothing dramatic can happen without everyone present in the scene subsequently being ready for their close-up – sometimes multiple times. And considering how often such moments happen in the king’s court… it takes a while. This does lighten the intellectual burden required to keep up. Chris was usually present for only about one-third of the screen time each day, yet she was able to hang in there, with only minor explanations from me.

For the great majority of the time, it’s light stuff, with Manu escaping every pitfall her enemies set for her. Then, the hammer drops: to extend the GoT comparison, it’s the Rani equivalent of the Red Wedding. Fewer bodies, to be sure – just one – yet the resulting emotional wallop was still brutal, sending me through multiple stages of grief during the subsequent fall-out. “No… Surely they haven’t… It’s got to be a dream sequence.” All told, it was easily the most impactful death in any of the telenovelas I’ve watched, regardless of their origin, and the repercussions ran on for multiple episodes. As do the reaction shots. So. Many. Reaction. Shots.

I wonder if the 70-episode cutoff point was chosen by Netflix, being the point at which Manu “grows up”. It appears she is played by an older actress (right) in the latter stages of the series. As it stands, however, it’s an interesting approach to have a series apparently aimed at adults, with a 14-year-old character as the lead. While I can’t say it was wholly successful, it proved a remarkably easy watch, and I was genuinely sorry when I ran out of episodes.

Creative Director: Sujata Rao
Star: Ulka Gupta, Sameer Dharmadhikari, Vikas Verma, Ashnoor Kaur

Undercover Law

By Jim McLennan July 15, 2019 February 21, 2020 Review

★★½
“The law of declining returns.”

This one had a good deal of promise, to the extent that even Chris expressed an interest in watching it [she bailed on discovering it was 60 episodes in length!]. However, it almost completely fails to go anywhere much: what you see in the first ten episodes is, by and large, what you get over the remaining fifty. It’s the story of four women, all of whom work as agents in the Colombian police, and are trying to take down the local drug cartel. This had been run by a man called Lerner, before he was killed by the authorities; now, his son Junior has taken over the business. The women seek to infiltrate various parts of his operation, from the jungle manufacturing arm, through the distribution side to the money laundering and finance wing, and discover the identity of the mysterious “Bluefish”, who heads the cartel from the shadows.

Which would be fine, if the show had actually concentrated on this aspect of their lives. Unfortunately, it doesn’t. Each of them have their own soap-drenched subplots, typically involving family members, love lives, or some combination thereof. For example, one has a child whose parentage is uncertain. Could the father be her police partner? Or could it even be Lerner himself? I hope you care, because this storyline is stretched out over the entire duration of the series. Other elements which are similarly used include a junkie sister and her daughter; the search for a long-lost father; and a troubled marriage resulting from the commitment required to be an undercover officer. At times, the whole policing thing seems almost to be forgotten.

Being undercover is clearly going to limit the opportunities for overt action: when you’re pretending to be a cook, a nightclub owner’s wife or a fitness instructor, you’re not going to be kicking down doors and blowing away the bad guys. I understand this. But the characters – and the writers – need to decide what’s important: their personal lives or their work. Too often, the story instead resorts to cliché. For example, when a character gives an impassioned speech about getting out of this dangerous job and settling down, it’s absolutely no surprise they’re killed in a gun-battle, immediately afterward. [Admittedly, this remains one of the show’s few genuinely memorable sequences] Similarly, I’ve seen enough telenovelas to know that when a character is supposedly dead, unless you see their corpse, there’s about an even chance they will return. And weddings never go off smoothly and without a hitch.

It’s a bit of a shame, since most of the central performances are solid, just deserving better material with which to work. And the commitment to focusing on the side of law, rather than glamorizing the lives of criminals, is laudable. Yet it’s so poorly-written, even the identity of the gang’s “mole” in law enforcement is an opportunity for tension, squandered to the point of being almost completely wasted, and the revelation of “Bluefish” was absolutely no revelation at all. Maybe it suffered by comparison, being watched in the same period as the far superior Netflix series set in Colombia, Narcos. Or maybe it just isn’t very good.

Star: Valeria Galvis, Juana del Rio, Viña Machado, Luna Baxter

La querida del Centauro

By Jim McLennan November 28, 2018 October 29, 2020 Review

★★★
“This land is Yolanda…”

A sold enough entry, this benefits from a well-written script, but gets marks taken off for having a heroine who is rather too passive. Yolanda Acosta (Paleta) is sent to a higher security facility when she is recaptured, following an escape from her previous prison. It’s a mixed-gender facility (common in Mexico), and she comes to the attention of Benedictino Suárez (Zurita), a.k.a. “Centaur”, a local crime boss who is also incarcerated. He falls hard for Yolanda – the title translates as “Centaur’s Woman” – and when his escape plan comes to fruition, offers to bring her along with him, to the ranch on which he’s hiding out. And that’s where the problems really start for Yolanda.

Firstly, her teenage daughter, Cristina, is on the outside, being taken care of by Yolanda’s sleazy step-mom., who is trying to sell off Cristina’s virginity. Second, is the ensuing power struggle between Centaur and a rival; using Cristina as leverage, Yolanda is coerced into going undercover at a local gym where they operate. Third? Local cop Gerardo Duarte (Brown) who wants to use Yolanda to arrest Centaur. Initially, he offers immunity to her, but eventually their relationship becomes more… personal. Finally, and by no means least: did I forget to mention Centaur is married? And his wife, Julia (de la Mora) does not take kindly to rivals; on her orders, one of Yolanda’s cellmates has an eye gouged out.

You have to feel for the heroine, whose chief concern is simply wanting the best for her daughter. But every time Yolanda tries to do the right thing, circumstances conspire to foil her, and she inevitably ends up mired in deeper trouble. It reaches almost Shakespearean level of tragedy, with death following in her wake, from prison to the ranch. Even Duarte ends up believed by most to be dead, though this is mostly for the benefit of his health. since there’s a mole inside the police department who is funneling information to the cartel. He’s left to carry on his investigation as a “ghost”, with the help of allies on the force, which complicates his efforts to help Yolanda and Cristina extricate themselves.

The performances are solid enough, and the characters here almost all occupy a morally grey middle-area. You may not endorse their actions, yet you can see why they decided there was a need for them. I was particularly impressed by de la Mora, whose portrayal of Julia puts her over as both smart and brutal. She knows her position as Centaur’s “legitimate” woman leads to both power and risk, and wields the former to mitigate the latter. She also keeps incriminating evidence about Centaur elsewhere, with a “dead woman’s switch” of regular text messages, and instructions to release it in the event the messages stop. That’s genius.

I’d like to have seen Yolanda be rather more active. Admittedly, her options are limited, especially once her daughter comes under the control of Centaur as well. However, she is set up in the prison as a character with no qualms about getting tough when necessary. Once she’s back on the outside, that physicality seems almost to evaporate for 30-odd episodes. When she goes undercover in the gym, she ends up having to face Lola, a relation of Centaur’s rival who has taken a dislike to Yolanda, in an unsanctioned match. Otherwise, she seems curiously reluctant to get her hands dirty, even in defense of Cristina, and with no shortage of firearms around, of which she could take advantage.

The rest of the show, however, is quite savage for a TV series; one death in particular is by head-shot of impressive nature, more befitting The Walking Dead. It ticks along quite nicely, though it’s never less than obvious whereabout we’re going to end up, more or less from the point Yolanda arrives on the ranch. We eventually get there, and the table is set for a second season. Not sure the sequel will exactly become a priority, yet I’ll leave this show on my Netflix watch-list for potential viewing.

Created by : Lina Uribe and Darío Vanegas
Star: Ludwika Paleta, Humberto Zurita, Michel Brown, Alexandra de la Mora

Dueños del paraíso

By Jim McLennan April 1, 2018 February 28, 2020 Review

★★
“The main powder here is soap, not cocaine.”

Business is on the streets, check it out.
Survival of the strongest they’re the ones in charge
It’s at gunpoint, it’s outside the law.
Your word is your bond and you know it, man.
How many lives have been lost to loyalty?
If you’re my partner take care you can’t fail me
Honor comes before love.
The streets are fierce because they know I’m here.
We’re the masters of this dream, All American dream
I’m brave not merciful, I’m bad to the bone
By steel, tequila and blood we’ll be the masters of paradise

Based on the above theme song, and credits which are a fast-paced montage of gun-fights, explosions and chases through the Everglades, you’d be expecting a action-packed creature that will keep the adrenaline pumping. The reality? Not so much. Indeed, just about every gun-battle in the 71 episodes here could be fitted into the opening credits. Despite this being the much-touted return of del Castillo to the genre, after her success in La Reina Del Sur, she is just one in a slew of characters, and while central, is arguably not the focus.

The title of this 2015 show translates as “Masters of Paradise”, and it occupies a not dissimilar time and place to the previous year’s Viuda Negra: Miami during the infamous cocaine wars of the late seventies and early eighties. Rather than taking some inspiration from the actual character of Griselda Blanco, this Mexican-Chilean co-production invents an entire set of fictional characters. At the core is Anastasia Cardona (del Castillo), the wife of a Mexican drug lord who is forced to flee the country after war breaks out with a rival group of traffickers.

They try to set up shop in Florida instead, which brings them to the attention some of well-established local rivals, the Quezadas, led by Leandro (Varoni). While Anastasia’s husband soon bites a bullet, the twist is, it’s not the enemy who are responsible: Anastasia herself killed him, in a fit of jealousy. Not that this stops Leandro’s chief hitman from taking the credit, or from attacking the funeral, stealing the corpse and then dropping it from a helicopter into the courtyard of his house – to make some kind of point, I guess. They follow up by kidnapping Anastasia, leaving her for dead in the swamps, and when she eventually recovers, vows to take revenge.

If this was what the show was about, it would be fine. However, it’s much more about the everyday lives of her various minions and their families, in particular, Conrado San Miguel (Zabaleta) and Adán Romero (Torre), the latter of whom is just as newly arrived in Miami. These all unfold against a backdrop of Anastasia’s quest for power and revenge, but the latter feels more like an afterthought. Think of it as similar to the way Zombieland was a road movie, that just happened to unfold against a backdrop of the zombie apocalypse. So this is a soap opera, that just happens to unfold against a backdrop of drug dealing and vengeance.

So, we get things like Adán’s daughter having issues with a jealous classmate at her new school. Conrado’s wife, Erica, is an aspiring actress, who is lured in by a sleazy producer into material of a more, ah, “adult” nature. An interfering mother-in-law. Unwanted pregnancy. A sprinkling of sexual tension. It’s mostly generic stuff, blandly uninteresting and little more than background noise as far as drama goes – though I was amused by the first name-check of B-movie director Russ Meyer I’ve heard in a telenovela. Another problem was the Chilean co-production elements, which keeps diverting the film off to that South American country, almost inevitably at the worst possible moment, just when things are getting going in Florida.

All told, probably less than a third of this is what I’d call “the good stuff”. Much of that is down to del Castillo, who is as solid as ever, and has plenty of opportunities to deliver her trademark stare, capable of melting a hole in sheet metal. I also note the presence of Oscar-nominated actress Adriana Barraza as Anastasia’s mother, Irene Medrano, who has an entire graveyard worth of skeletons in her closet; that’s certainly a better pedigree of supporting cast than most series can boast. Other positive elements include the husband and wife “cleaners”, who have a thriving business disposing of all the dead bodies, and occasionally effective moments, such as when one character is given the news of her mother’s death, in medium-long shot, and told almost entirely in her reaction.

However, the scripting in particular seems to be remarkably sloppy. At one point, Leandro Quezada appears to be stricken with a terminal disease, but this plot-line appears to be casually discarded, almost as if it never happened. The time-frame doesn’t make a great deal of sense either: there’s a gap of seven months when Anastasia recovers from her kidnapping, during which Quezada and his clan are doing… apparently nothing, when they have a perfect opportunity to bury their enemies for good. It performs another great leap forward for the final couple of episodes as well, skipping over two years, for no clear purpose. And that ending supposedly offers a big twist, yet is incredibly obvious: while I’m usually no good at spotting these things, even I saw this one coming from a long way off.

It never quite became irritating or annoying enough for me to give serious consideration to giving up, and was, at least, relatively consistent in its tone and style throughout. My disinterest was mostly a result of the content. It feels as though the makers didn’t want to tell a story about crime and criminals, so much as bolt the elements of a traditional soap-opera onto a hot topic, seeking to exploit del Castillo’s previous work and reputation, rather than capitalizing and building on it. Definitely a disappointment.

Creator: Pablo Illanes
Star: Kate del Castillo, Miguel Varoni, Jorge Zabaleta, José María Torre

Camelia La Texana

By Jim McLennan February 1, 2018 October 28, 2020 Review

★★
“Approximately 900 times longer than the song which inspired it.”

“A woman, if she loves a man, can give him her life.
But you must be careful if this woman is hurt,
For betrayal and smuggling are incompatible.”
— Contrabando y Traición, by Los Tigres del Norte

I almost gave up after 20 episodes, as it had largely degenerated into a telenovela version of American Idol. [Seriously: the heroine had partnered up with a wannabe singer, trying to break into show-business] But literally in episode 20, Camelia finally got her act together. She gunned down both a corrupt Border Patrol officer, then pumped seven rounds into her boyfriend after he announced he was going back to his wife and child. Ok, I’ll watch a bit further. Turns out, the show seemed to operate on 10-episode arcs. Episode 30 saw a Godfather-like wedding massacre, which rewarmed my interest. By part 40, we had a former Interpol agent, who had taken the veil and was hiding out in a convent, while still having her “very particular set of skills” And at the 50th show… Well, we were close enough to the end – the series had 60 episodes – it seemed kinda pointless to stop.

The problems were the nine episodes in between, which were much more a chore than a pleasure. The basic story has Camelia (Maldonado) being seduced away from her family in San Antonio, Texas, and ambitions of a career in dentistry, by hunky Emilio Varela (Hayser). He’s working for drug lord Antonio Treviño (Gama), who is actually Camelia’s father, and who wants her to join him in Mexico. Emilio’s mission diverts badly off-book, and ends up dying in a Californian back-alley. Thereafter, it’s a meandering tale involving the battles for turf between Don Trevino and his rival, Arnulfo Navarro, as well as the extended families on both sides, and various other elements, such as corrupt Army officer General Urdapilleta, who may (or may not) also be a serial killer.

This will happen: significant expansion is obviously needed when you adapt a three-minute song into about 45 hours of TV drama. For the inspiration here was 1972 song Contrabando y Traición, by Los Tigres del Norte. While colloquially known as “Camelia la Texana,” the original title of this narcocorrida – a genre once described as “gangster rap with tubas and accordions” – translates as “Smuggling and Betrayal.” That’s a fairly accurate summary of both the song and the series. It tells of a couple who drive from Tijuana to LA with marijuana in their car tires. There, as in the show, Emilio tells Camelia he’s breaking up with her after they cash in their cargo. The result? “Seven gunshots rang out, Camelia killed Emilio/All the police found was a discarded pistol/Of the money and Camelia, nothing more was ever known.”

The song had previously been adapted into a 1977 film, starring Ana Luisa Peluffo and Valentín Trujillo – though the dynamic was rather different there, with the leading lady being a couple of decades older than her lover. (More than 20 years earlier, Peluffo had caused a significant scandal, when she appeared nude in 1955’s La fuerza del deseo, the first such scene in Mexican cinema) The song was also adapted into an opera in 2008, and has been acknowledged by Arturo Pérez-Reverte as a significant inspiration for his novel, La Reina Del Sur. The author said, “The day I heard Camelia La Tejana, I felt the need to write the lyrics of one of those songs myself.“

It’s an interesting decision to set the series in the seventies, at the time the song was released, rather than in the contemporary era. Though, outside of the cars and the preponderance of vintage facial hair, it’s easy to forget this is a period piece. The story is little more than a hodge-podge of telenovela cliches, semi-randomly stitched together. Emilio has a twin brother! Unexpected pregnancies! Long-lost siblings. And vengeance. Damn. So much vengeance, to the point that it was more of a surprise on the rare occasions when somebody didn’t have a deeply-held grudge. Emilio’s wife Alison against Camilla, for killing her husband. Don Trevino’s current wife, Lu, against the previous occupant of the position, Camilla’s mother, for rendering her infertile. Navarro against Camilla, for burning his face at a cockfight. And so on.

Hell, even ten-year-old blind girl Alma (Ana Paula d’León) is seeking revenge on those who killed her parents, before her adoption by Don Treviño. She’s actually one of the more interesting supporting characters, because she seems to have second sight, able to see things before they happen, and act to prevent them. It’s a shame the story lose sinterest in her entirely during the second half, because this concept could have developed in a number of intriguing ways. Someone with Alma’s talent would be a great weapon for any drug cartel, effectively keeping them one step ahead of their enemies. She’s not the only decent supporting character: “Queens of the South” La Nacha in the first half, and Concepción “La Cuquis” Olvera during the latter stages, both demonstrate it’s not just a man’s world.

Unfortunately, these delights are all rather minor. The great bulk of the episodes are unaffecting, not least due to a heroine whose middle names appear to be “Questionable Life Choices”. If there’s a poor decision to be made… Camilla makes it, with an inevitability previously associated only with characters from 19th-century Russian novels. Up until the very last episode, she’s less an action heroine than a reaction heroine, and you would probably need two hands to count all the female characters elsewhere in this show, who are more interesting than Camelia. The series seems tacitly to accept this, hence falling back on a tangle of subplots in which the supposed heroine is only tangentially involved.

The series ended as it had consistently done throughout: another 10-episode arc, ending in interest being piqued once more. [Spoiler warning] Camelia became the head of the Treviño family, and took her revenge on Navarro, spitting out the line, “No man made me a legend. I chose my own life, and I’ll choose my own death.” But there was also a schism, with Alma and Lu heading off, suggesting they would go up against Camelia in a second series. However, it has now been more than three and a half years since the first season ended, and the chances of any sequel seem increasingly slim. It isn’t too surprising. Adapting a three-minute pop song into a movie can be done: Convoy and Harper Valley PTA come to mind as examples. Stretching it into something of this length, however, is likely a remix too far.

Star: Sara Maldonado, Erik Hayser, Andrés Palacios, Dagoberto Gama