“It was that moment when it all fell apart.” The most compelling point made by the season finale of Narcos: Mexico (“Leyenda”) is that just when it looks like the United States is finally getting serious about heeding the warnings, cutting through the corruption, and taking the fight directly to the bad guys…well, they become the bad guys, or just as bad as them, if they weren’t already. The narration that closes this languorous, occasionally horrifying episode doesn’t appear anywhere else in the episode, and its voice finally represented on-screen in the person of a burned-out, gun-smuggling American agent played by Scoot McNairy. Both maneuvers lend extra weight to the narrator’s words, which are accompanied by real-life news footage of heavily armed soldiers and dead bodies. Those words essentially take the emotional logic of how the story of Narcos: Mexico has developed — indeed, the entire moral logic of the War on Drugs itself — and drag it out back to be bashed in the head and dumped in a field.

I reviewed the season finale of Narcos: Mexico for Decider.

What gets me most is the raw, brainless brutality and venality of the whole affair, as two governments and an organized-crime outfit with the profit margins of a Fortune 500 company spend millions of dollars and waste untold lives over a drug war that’s unwinnable by definition, and which isn’t even in full swing yet. Do the people zapping Kiki with a cattle prod and piercing the bones of his hand with an electric drill actually think he knows anything that will help them evade prosecution? Did the agents and soldiers who lit Rafa’s $2.5 billion weed farm on fire think it would materially damage the cartel, let alone affect the overall flow of contraband into the United States? How many people have to die so rich and powerful criminals, on both sides of the law, can stay rich and powerful?

I reviewed the penultimate episode of Narcos: Mexico for Decider. I think it displays some noble intentions but undercuts them by refusing to go all the way with the cruelty involved.

In this episode of Narcos: Mexico, dozens of people are killed so the United States government and its Mexican-government allies can burn a five-thousand-ton marijuana field valued at two and a half billion dollars. Then the owners of that field and their Mexican-government allies, who are also America’s allies when it comes to suppressing the left, kidnap one of the U.S. government agents responsible for the raid and prepare to torture him to death for information the U.S. government’s plans for further action. By this point the U.S. government has decided, by the way, not to take any further action, so as not to embarrass its Mexican-government allies.

Folks, I’m starting to wonder if the War on Drugs was a bad idea.

I reviewed episode eight of Narcos: Mexico for Decider.

Titled “Jefe de Jefes,” after the Lucky Luciano–style “Boss of All Bosses” sobriquet bestowed upon Félix by his high-flying lieutenant Amado, the show’s seventh episode makes ample use of the parallels between its protagonist and antagonist. That, at least, is par for the course. The series began by setting up Gallardo and Camarena as opposite numbers with the same basic makeup: both of them cops, both of them relocating to Guadalajara, both of them hoping to advance in their respective careers after being stymied back home, both of them often thwarted by the established power structure, both of them exceptionally driven to work around obstacles to achieve their goals.

Now, though, it feels both excessive and unnecessary to maintain that parallel structure. Both men are planning to leave town to go back home. Both run into opposition from their Concerned Wives when they decide not to do so. Both make major power plays to defeat the last governmental obstacles to their end goals. Truth is sometimes stranger than fiction, to be sure, but when you’re creating historical fiction based on the strange truth, there’s definitely a point at which “stranger than fiction” becomes “too cute by half.”

I reviewed episode seven of Narcos: Mexico for Decider. Stuff like this is why as good as this franchise can be from time to time, it never quite achieves liftoff.

Displaying considerable moxie, the show chooses G.W. Handel’s stately, morose “Sarabande” to accompany much of the action, particularly the climax in which Gallardo narrowly escapes arrest and then returns home to discover his infidelity has been discovered in turn. Real Kubrick headz know that this is the theme music to the great director’s period-piece masterpiece Barry Lyndon — itself the story of a country boy who becomes rich and powerful through a combination of luck and deceit. I kinda wonder if the filmmakers were gonna go with a more appropriately adulterous Kubrick music cue, Shostakovich’s “Waltz No. 2” from Eyes Wide Shut, before thinking better of it and going for a less obvious choice. (Also, its Netflix sister show Altered Carbon got there first.) At least they didn’t use Strauss.

I reviewed episode six of Narcos: Mexico for Decider.

Actor Wagner Moura’s Pablo Escobar was one of my favorite television characters of the decade — a singular performance that’s all the more appealing and imposing because of how much he underplayed it. It’s funny hearing all of Gallardo’s friends with a foot in the coke world warn him about Pablo being “temperamental,” an assessment with which Escobar himself agrees, because looking at and listening to him you’d swear the guy was coming down off painkillers after a root canal. (Maybe it’s all that weed he’s smoking.)

Cocaine, schmocaine: Pablo’s chief export was the ambition and anger he grew inside himself. But the genius of version of the character we saw on Narcos was that his reserved temperament when encountered in person forced everyone to lean in closer and hang on his every word. It’s more effective, and frightening, than exploding all the time would have been. To reflect this, Amat Escalante keeps Pablo shrouded in darkness and half-light during an outdoor nighttime soirée. It may simply be a workaround for Moura’s post-Pablo weight loss, but it presents a stark contrast with the brightly lit office of the Calí boys, and it gives the character the vibe of a supervillain without requiring him to do anything outwardly supervillainous at all.

I reviewed episode five of Narcos: Mexico for Decider. God bless Wagner Moura.

And for crying out loud, how great is the sequence where Rafa and his partner-turned-babysitter Don Neto have to figure out a way to kill time in their big empty safehouse? The two get massively coked up, and then have a little two-man dance party to freaking Culture Club. As Boy George croons “Karma Chameleon,” Neto (who winds up nearly getting arrested during his drunken drive home, then makes the cop who stops him his indentured-servant driver) hoots and hollers about his new CD player, simply unable to contain his joy that the music won’t skip no matter how much you jump around. In a music-nerd move so amazing I can hardly contain myself about it, Rafa’s reaction is momentarily muted when he produces a stack of vinyl records in their cardboard sleeves and starts ranting about how the album cover will become a lost art when the canvas shrinks to CD size. It’s like he stepped out of every conversation about music I had with my dad in 1990. Writer Scott Teems deserves some kind of award for this scene alone.

I reviewed episode four of Narcos: Mexico for Decider.

The most remarkable thing about the episode, in which DEA Agent Kiki Camarena uncovers irrefutable proof of Félix Gallardo’s massive marijuana operation while Gallardo cements his role at the top of the organized-crime pyramid (sort of), is its patience.

Take Kiki’s journey into the belly of the beast, when makes an unauthorized undercover trip to work in Gallardo’s marijuana fields. First, he drives out to the point in the desert where he’d previously seen the unidentified convoy of blindfolded workers drive past. He sits there in his car for hours, until nightfall. When the convoy approaches, he waits until just after it passes and then pulls into line behind them. He arrives at the staging ground for the operation’s workers — a popular enough spot despite being in the middle of nowhere that it has food carts and bars operating 24/7 — and blends in, during a lengthy steadicam shot that does nothing in particular, really, just follows him into this world. He has a three- or four-beer, five- or six-cigarette conversation with the guy next to him at the bar, but then comes up short on getting any useful intel out of him.

He waits around again, napping, until the start of the workday just before dawn. He manages to get himself on one of the transports to the field with the help of his barfly buddy (who demands half his daily wages in exchange for this favor) and gets trundled out to the fields. He spends the whole day there, picking buds and fucking up his hands and eating bad food and, eventually, hiding from the DFS agents who show up on business and might recognize him from their shared time in the Guadalajara cop bar. He gets back on to the bus after what can best be described as a low-speed chase in which he struggles to stay out of sight and ahead of step from DFS underboss El Azul, who spotted and vaguely recognized him. By the time he’s shipped back to the staging ground and can use the payphone to report his findings to his boss, he discovers his wife has gone into labor.

All of this is done with minimal cinematographic razzle-dazzle, and more importantly, with barely a note from the show’s score and nary a peep from its omniscient narrator. Director Andrés Baiz, a series mainstay, clearly trusts his audience enough to grant them this silence, to let them take in the events of Kiki’s day and draw their own emotional conclusions about what he’s thinking, feeling, experiencing. The few times something unusual does happen from a filmmaking perspective — that long but unshowy take, the reveal of the gigantic forest of weed, the split-diopter shot that juxtaposes kiki’s terrified face against the DFS agents in the background — it hits harder because of its restrained context.

I reviewed the very good third episode of Narcos: Mexico for Decider.

I’ve long thought that the key to Narcos‘ success, such as it is, is just the flow of the thing. I’ve said in the past that whatever the strengths of its stars, from Wagner Moura’s taciturn menace as Pablo Escobar to the mustachioed cool of Boyd Holbrook and Pedro Pascal as his enemies, that slow, sly, sexy, slightly sinister theme song is the production’s true lead.

The show follows suit. With its Scorsese-esque narration, provided once again by an unseen Scoot McNairy, and its use of how-the-sausages-get-made montages, it has the same sit back and sink right into this strange new world appeal as the opening reels of GoodFellas and Casino — only over and over again, hour after hour, one season per year. If you think that dilutes the appeal of those kinds of sequences, that’s fair, and it’s probably even correct.

But there’s something soporifically enjoyable about its rhythms nonetheless. You can always count on some tense conversations, some glamorous coke-fueled excess (Neto and Amado in particular find their first big-city coke soirée to be a real hoot), some cops conducting high-risk raids, a lot of murders and executions, a few that are stopped at the last minute, some sweeping shots of the wildnerness and the city streets, and all the other crime-genre thrills and chills you could ever want.

I reviewed episode two of Narcos: Mexico for Decider.

As an artistic enterprise, Narcos is a bit like the business it chronicles — a simple matter of supply and demand. The show was originally created to tell the incredible true story of Colombian cocaine kingpin Pablo Escobar, who was so rich and ruthless that he essentially conquered the country before losing a bloody civil war and getting hunted and killed like an animal, complete with an American DEA agent posing for a photo with his corpse. With a magnetic lead performance from Wagner Moura as Escobar and rising star Boyd Holbrook as the American who took him down, it became one of Netflix’s bigger and more respected dramas.

Which meant that even after Escobar’s death, the show must go on.

I reviewed the debut of Narcos: Mexico, and presented a people’s history of the Narcos franchise, for Decider.