There’s been a lot of debate around this and nobody can seem
to agree. Are we in or are we out? Is Narcos: Mexico just another
series of Narcos, or is it a different
show entirely? I didn’t even know if I
was supposed to put a colon in the title between Narcos and Mexico. However, I seem to be writing a separate one
of these posts about it, so this is proof at last that’s not just a fourth
series of one programme, but a fully-fledged boxset in its own right. Sure, both exist in the same universe and
both can stand alone, as you don’t need to have seen one to understand the
other, but, if I’ve treated Fear The Walking
Dead and The Walking Dead as
independent entities, then we must be consistent here.
Truth be told I rolled straight into Narcos: Mexico after
finishing Narcos – it was a logical progression and the Netflix algorithm was fairly
insistent that because I watched Narcos I should watch Narcos: Mexico. Confidently, I clicked to play was
immediately devastated that the Colombian Spanish I had subconsciously learned
from Narcos, however, didn’t allow much latent intelligibility with the Spanish
on offer in Narcos Mexico (which, in case you can’t tell, is Mexican
Spanish). My linguistic geekiness was
devastated and I was subsequently forced to pay much closer attention to the
subtitles than I had been intending.
This issue was also compounded by one of the leading cast: Diego Luna. Stepping into the Escobarian shoes of Wagner Moura as chief
antagonist, Luna plays Félix Gallardo, the drugs kingpin whose rise and pursuit
forms the main narrative arc of the drama. When I say play, I mean mumbles, as
he violates his lines as if his mouth is full of muffin and he’s in a rush to
get the words out before taking another massive bite. Before knickers are got into twists, I should
point out my longstanding fandom of Luna; coming across Y Tu Mamá También
on DVD back in my student days, I vowed that his performance in this
influential film would always see him endowed with my utmost respect. I confess that Gael García Bernal
has more fun in the film, and not just because he has a mullet, but the point I
am making here is that everyone should see this film and that Luna is a god for
being in it.
But yeah, his drugs czar lacks something. Whereas Moura got to be all moody stares
while seeming to revel in the bloodlust his career in narcotics required of
him, Luna is dominated by furrowed, sweaty brows, exasperation at his staff and
possessed of a mild imposter syndrome.
I’ll forgive this, though, as it’s a tough part to crack and a tougher
act to follow (though the chronology actually precedes Narcos – confused
emoji). What we do have is a cracking
set of US narcos hot on his trail, clearly undeterred by his poor diction
(including an angrier Ken Cosgrove from Mad Men). Our introduction to their world is delivered
from the perspective of Kiki Camarena, played by the underrated Michael Peña. Mostly wearing what appears to be one of the
awful jackets from Sex Education, Camarena
is quickly het up about the Guadalajara unit’s ineffectiveness in the face of
the biggest marijuana farming enterprise ever seen. But Camarena is ever resourceful and he don’t
always play by the rules, brought to life thrillingly when he sneaks onto a bus
transporting impoverished rural Mexicans to work at the cannabis
plantation. His disguise? He messes his hair up, proving correct the
assumption that poverty is often indicated by bad haircuts.
Providing the kind of hedonism that looks great on screen,
we have Rafael Caro Quintero, Gallardo’s childhood friend and the mastermind
behind the strain of weed that launches the whole operation. A constant loose cannon of a threat to his
pal’s business aims, he doubles the jeopardy at play in any illegal narcotics
operation, not least with his very exciting dalliance with rich girl, Sofía. These two revel in japes that make their
eventual coming a cropper truly inevitable, providing excellent entertainment
along the way.
Further complications come from Gallardo’s political
entanglements, laying bare the rampant corruption that allows him to function
in the first place. With character
traits as sinister as their suits are tacky, these men lurk constantly at his
heels to exacerbate his stress at every turn.
Why anyone would choose such a career is beyond me. You have loads of money, which is nice, but
that only lasts until your violent murder, whereas a peaceful retirement must
surely be a better, if impossible prospect.
Some of his perplexity was shared by me as a viewer though, as I unavoidably
missed some of the subtitles explaining who specifically these chaps were, and
ended up having to accept that men in bad suits dogging him at every turn were
just par for the course.
I’ll conclude that Netflix is mostly right: if you liked
Narcos, you’ll like Narcos: Mexico. It
is simply more of the same.
Heart-stopping drama is punctuated by the same standard tropes:
stakeouts in period automobiles, tense cat-and-mouse near misses, cigarettes
and moustaches. The soundtrack is
gunfire and Spanish swearwords. The
setting is sweaty dust and dusty sweat, though 1980s Guadalajara fails to
excite the traveller in me as much as 1990s Colombia. I couldn’t help wondering what the big idea
was here: are we going to complete an encyclopaedic dramatization of every
illegal substance oligarch South America has ever produced? Either way, until Narcos: Uruguay is
available for streaming, you can get your fix of that narco life with this show,
but if true stories, class As, murders and Mexican sun are not crucial
ingredients in your boxset viewing, then simply viewing Narcos (as in, Narcos:
Original) is sufficient.
