The pleasure of the finale is in watching Vergara say goodbye to this character, whom I expect will be a career-changer for her, or at least ought to be. The fire largely extinguished, the crack pipe put down, she’s first stonily defiant, and then simply emptied out. She’s still Griselda, but you can feel that something vital isn’t there anymore. There’s no big breakdown either — it’s like someone let the air out of her, and she’s flopping along the highway at 15 miles an hour to her inevitable destination. And with that, we’ve reached ours as well, our eyes opened to Vergara’s potential and our drug-drama jones fully satiated. Not a bad outcome at all, for us anyway.

I reviewed the series finale of Griselda for Decider.

All this craziness gives Sofía Vergara her best chance yet to just go absolutely nuts on screen. The comparison that springs to mind for me is watching Jon Hamm in Fargo Season 5 after watching him in comedies for a decade. Who the hell is this terrifying maniac, this delusional tyrant plagued with paranoia and arrogance and the inability to let go of a grudge? For god’s sake, she takes a golden uzi and forces a man to strip nude and bark like a dog while forcing two other guests to fuck in front of everyone, and you believe it. It’s not funny, either, not campy, and don’t let anyone try and tell you otherwise. The show may not be going for realism, but that rage, that compulsion to humiliate and terrorize in order to feel in control? That’s real. Vergara makes it real. 

It’s kind of like once it starts coming out, she can’t make it stop — certainly not until she stops chain-smoking crack. Vergara portrays Griselda as a woman hurling herself from one experience to the next: having an off-camera threesome with Rafa Salazar’s manipulative party-girl wife Marta (a captivating Julieth Restrepo), gazing dumbstruck at the fireworks display she arranged for her suddenly estranged husband, nearly choking her best friend to death, hitting the pipe over and over, shooting up Dario’s beloved Cadillac, sexually assaulting her guests, berating her son Uber for trying to be a voice of reason like Dario, perseverating on the idea that she still has an informant in her organization despite a ruthless mass murder campaign against any potential rats, accusing virtually everyone who cares about her of being said rat…she’s mainlining first dopamine and then adrenaline to a dangerous degree. 

I reviewed episode 5 of Griselda for Decider.

Director Andrés Baiz at no point loses sight of the fact that he’s pointing his camera at Sofía Vergara. Slight prosthetics notwithstanding, she’s a stunning actor, and we’re reminded of this constantly when she’s here at her moment of triumph (at least until the last minute or so). Reclining on a sofa, luxuriating in a bath with an enormous classical nude behind her, out in the twilight tracing the orange cherry of her cigarette through the blue of the night air…It’s kind of like how you could tell how much everyone who directed Mad Men loved shooting Jon Hamm. In this role, Vergara is a person you just don’t get tired of looking at.

I reviewed episode four of Griselda for Decider.

And Sofía Vergara is terrific. I haven’t even mentioned how she’s been rendered off-model by makeup effects, particular around her jawline. She uses this at times to hide her beauty, leaning into the bulldog underbite and its accompanying air of tenacity. (The scene with the dealers, where she rallies them with a fiery speech, is a case in point.) She’s excellent at playing a woman for whom beauty has undeniably been a great advantage, but also a source of constant aggravation, harassment, underestimation, and ultimately danger. She makes Griselda seem like she needs to rotate her new nickname, “The Godmother,” in her mind a few times before she can fully believe it. And that glare at the end, ooh-wee.

I reviewed episode 3 of Griselda for Decider.

Normally, meanwhile, I’d complain about the show’s overreliance on the dull Obama-era blue-and-orange digital color scheme. (True Detective Season 4 is another offender in a trend I thought we’d left behind as a species.) Look closer, however, and you’ll see that Baiz is doing much of this in-camera. The Griselda team populates every shot with blue and orange props and costumes and set elements: shirts, jackets, dresses, walls, signs, taxicabs, the wheels of a bicycle, a painting of a beach at sunset on the wall of a hotel room at one point. I’m not saying this is Asteroid City, but nor is it just slapping a filter on top of what they shot. Thought went into this. Care went into this. It’s Something!

I reviewed the second episode of Griselda for Decider.

I didn’t know what to expect going into Griselda, beyond a general raised-hackles sense that someone was pulling a fast one by not just making a new season of Narcos already. What I got was a surprising performance in a glamorous and gory hour of TV with a banging soundtrack. You cut that kind of thing into a line on my glass table and you bet I’ll be inhaling it.

I reviewed the premiere of Griselda for Decider, where I’ll be covering the whole show. Sofía Vergara is up to something special here.

SPOILER WARNING

Frankly, I’m still processing how I feel about writer and showrunner Carlo Bernard’s choice to go down this road. In dramatic terms, ending the episode on Walt’s scummy sting operation—at first we’re led to believe he’s confessing his personal failings and the evil he’s done in the DEA to his ex-girlfriend Dani, but he’s just lulling a target into a false sense of security—is a much more impactful choice. Moreover, it fits in better with the bitter tone of the show overall, which has always been about how the War on Drugs is waged by criminals on both sides, though it just so happens that some of them carry badges and bear the blessings of the United States government. 

Teasing the idea that Amado lives on? That turns him from a cartel boss—a more likeable and genteel cartel boss than any of the others we’ve encountered since the Escobar days, but still, a cartel boss—into a living legend. It’s fitting that a narcocorrido about Amado accompanies this final scene: Like that genre of music, this ending portrays Amado as a sort of folk hero, a guy who saw that there was no happy ending for anyone who stayed in the game, and who boldly chose to get out on his own terms, to live happily ever after. 

But maybe that’s as fitting an ending, in its way, as Walt’s squalid fate. It’s hardly a controversial statement to say that Narcos and Narcos: Mexico, which ends its own three-season run here, have capitalized on the glitz and glamor of its drug traffickers’ lives, from the Arellanos’ rich narcojunior allies all the way to Pablo Escobar’s imported hippopotami. Is there life after death for a narco? Look no further than the existence of this show for your answer.

I reviewed the season/series finale of Narcos: Mexico for Decider. How about that ending, huh?

“Narcos is always at its best when it’s simultaneously at its most elegiac and most cynical.” I wrote those words about the Season One finale of Narcos: Mexico, an alternately languid and brutal episode in which Félix Gallardo sold out his friends, the American government in the form of Walt Breslin doubled down on their disastrous drug war, and DEA Agent Kiki Camarena turned out to have died for nothing, nothing at all. It was confident, engrossing filmmaking designed to destroy the myth of the War on Drugs by any means necessary.

I think many of the same things can be said about this penultimate episode of the show’s third season. Narcos: Mexico Season 3 Episode 9, titled “The Reckoning,” does not settle all of the show’s accounts—there’s still one more episode to go, after all. But there’s something genuinely mournful in the way it chronicles the failures of so many of its main characters: Walt, Victor, Amado, General Rebollo. Representing nearly every side and level of the War on Drugs, they’re all revealed to be grim-faced failures in the end.

I reviewed the penultimate episode of Narcos: Mexico for Decider.

Without an episode-ending shootout to anchor it, this episode’s real highlight is simply the performance of José María Yazpik as Amado. For my money, with the possible exception of Alberto Ammann’s Pacho Herrera, he’s the most interesting narco since Wagner Moura’s Pablo Escobar, with his signature all-black ensemble and lanky frame a mirror image of Pablo’s dorky sweatshirts and doughy physique. Pablo was a terrorist who dressed like a guy running to the store at 10:30pm for groceries; Amado is a daring narcobillionaire whose cool and confident exterior masks how ill at ease he is with his success. You get the feeling some part of him wishes he’d gotten in that plane on that long-ago airstrip and simply flown away.

I reviewed episode eight of Narcos: Mexico Season 3 for Decider.

One plot point I did not relish was the inevitable breakup of Walt and his Long-Suffering Girlfriend, Dani. As I’ve written many times before while covering the Narcos franchise, Long-Suffering Significant Others are the only kind the lawmen on this show have—or the only kind the writers know how to write. Maybe I was foolish to think there really was a chance that Walt would finish his Mexican mission and rejoin Dani in Chicago, but either way, the whole storyline is wasted time, and Dani existed just so Walt could have something to be sad about.

I reviewed episode seven of Narcos: Mexico Season 3 for Decider.

In a plot- and action-heavy episode such as this, Narcos: Mexico rarely has time to let things breathe, cinematically. It relies heavily on the careworn faces of actors Luis Gerardo Méndez as Victor, Scoot McNairy as Walt Breslin, and José María Yazpik as Amado to convey emotion and depth beneath the slick, violent surface. In that respect, the show succeeds, as the camera lingers on each face as they process the dilemmas in which they find themselves: These guys really are able to anchor the action in recognizably human ways. When the world is coming unraveled around them, that’s no mean feat.

I reviewed episode six of Narcos: Mexico Season 3 for Decider.

The action ends with a lingering shot of the ranking member of the Arellanos now that Benjamín is on the run—not Ramón, not Francisco, but their sister Enedina. The Narcos franchise has seen its fair share of would-be women crime bosses, but few if any of them were given the resources and the blessing of their predecessors that Enedina now enjoys. Along with the matter of whether Amado Carrillo Fuentes’s grand plans for the Juárez cartel will work out (a matter deferred entirelyl for this episode), the question of Enedina’s leadership is one of the show’s more intriguing storylines at this point. For her sake, and for the sake of the story, let’s hope her own merger of crime and business goes better than her brothers’. After all, there’s a lot more Narcos: Mexico left to come.

I reviewed the fifth episode of Narcos: Mexico Season 3 for Decider.

To me, the Narcos franchise is only rarely a series that offers up thought-provoking imagery, though when it does, it tends to connect in a major way. I mean, I still think regularly of the signature shot associated with Pablo Escobar, a semicircular spin around the druglord as he gazes off into the distance, plotting his next move, and the last one of those happened four seasons ago. So the episode-closing closeup on Amado, quiet and confident, is lingering with me. Amado’s a killer, no doubt—but so is, like, every president America has ever had. Could it be possible that there’s a kinder, gentler way to profit off the cocaine trade? And could Amado hold the key?

I reviewed the fourth episode of Narcos: Mexico Season 3 for Decider.

You can file this episode of Narcos: Mexico in the “boys will be boys” department. Entitled “Los Juniors” (and directed by none other than Wagner “Pablo Escobar” Moura himself), this ep of the long-running crime franchise officially introduces us to the clique of rich kids who’ve formed a mutually beneficial relationship with the Arellano Félix brothers in Tijuana—the “narcojuniors,” as our narrator, dogged reporter Andréa Nunez, dubs them. These pampered princes of the city get to taste the life of a gangster, while the narcoseniors gain access to their rich parents. When her newspaper editor asks her why the parents would get in bed with cartel bosses when they’re already rich, Andréa cheekily replies “Rich people always want more money—that’s why they’re rich.” Truer words, Andréa, truer words.

I reviewed episode three of Narcos: Mexico Season 3 for Decider.

I love it when Narcos goes Casino mode. Remember how Martin Scorsese’s mob epic opens with a full first act explaining the ins and outs of the mafia’s Las Vegas operation in general and Ace Rothstein’s casino in particular? The Narcos franchise became a Netflix stalwart, I believe, in large part because of how well it apes that format, right down to the voiceover narration. 

We’re not quite at that point in Narcos: Mexico Season 3 Episode 2—there’s not some new method of coke distribution to detail, or some brand-new faction whose rise needs chronicling, at least not yet. But in this episode (“Como La Flor”) we’re treated to a narrated who’s-who of the cartel world. And though the cast of characters is a bit dizzying to keep track of—lots of familiar faces returning, several new ones emerging—the plot is simplicity itself. 

I reviewed episode two of Narcos: Mexico Season 3 for Decider.

That’s kind of the thing about the Narcos franchise: It’s an aggressively mixed bag. At times, specifically the opening two seasons of the original Narcos, centered on actor Wagner Moura’s portrayal of Pablo Escobar, it’s been as good as anything Netflix has aired. It also maintains a bitterly cynical view of the War on Drugs, a view that this misbegotten and murderous policy has well and truly earned over the decades since its launch. There really aren’t any good guys on this show; even the noble DEA agents who’ve anchored it since its inception are complicit in ruining lives, and sometimes ending them outright. This is a welcome departure from your average cops-and-robbers show, even if it still has cops and robbers as its beating heart.

And to be sure, this episode has a handful of impressive cinematic moments. The opening car chase, the raid on the drug house, and the murder of Aguilar are all shot in single takes, alternately immersing us in the action and giving us a god’s-eye view of the violence. I could get used to a show that’s this thoughtful in its deployment of “oners,” in industry parlance.

On the other hand, it can sometimes feel that, like Amado’s crashing plane, the franchise is coasting on fumes. Narcos’ third season, focused on the Cali cartel in Colombia, never reached the heights of the Escobar material; Narcos: Mexico’s first two seasons focused on Diego Luna’s Guadalajara cartel founder Félix Gallardo, a character who never amounted to much more than the sum of his suit-wearing, chainmoking, unsmiling parts. 

But Félix is gone now, powerless and imprisoned, while his former capos like Amado are free to make their moves (and plunge Mexico into bloodshed). If the original Narcos suffered when the charismatic crime boss at its center was removed from the playing field, there’s an equally good chance that Narcos: Mexico will benefit from Gallardo’s exit, as power grows diffuse and more interesting bosses emerge. Here’s hoping that a more powerful show emerges as well.

I reviewed the season premiere of Narcos: Mexico, which I’ll be covering all season, for Decider.

I’ve heard Narcos and Narcos: Mexico described as the platonic ideal of a Netflix show: eminently bingeable, instantly forgettable. I don’t know if that’s entirely fair, particularly (as I’ve said before) for the Wagner Moura/Pablo Escobar seasons. But here we are at the end of a season that I enjoyed watching from start to finish, but would be hard pressed to, like, recommend to anyone for any particular reason, aside from maybe all the screentime Scoot McNairy got. He was right: This story does not have a happy ending.

I reviewed the season finale of Narcos: Mexico Season Two for Decider. Good but pointedly not great.

There’s one episode left in this season of Narcos: Mexico, and there’s over thirty years of actual narcos in Mexico remaining before the series gets up to date. So there’s plenty of room for final twists and turns in the season finale, which may or may not see the fates of Félix and his plaza bosses sealed, to say nothing of Walt back in Sacramento. All we know for sure is that, to quote Dune, the spice must flow. The only question remaining for this ruthlessly plot-driven show to answer is who will control that flow, and who will act to shut it off.

I reviewed the penultimate episode of Narcos: Mexico Season 2 for Decider.

There’s one more moment that sticks with me from this episode. When the representative from the opposition notices that the government’s tech guy is entering secret passwords for separate sets of results, he gets so angry he starts cursing. The Minister of Defense, who’s in the process of colluding with a druglord to conduct this massive fraud at that very moment, chides him for his language. It reminds me of the bit from Apocalypse Now when Brando says “We train young men to drop fire on people, but their commanders won’t allow them to write ‘fuck’ on their airplanes because it’s obscene!” From Saigon to Mexico City, civility is barbarity’s shield.

I reviewed the eighth episode of Narcos: Mexico Season Two for Decider.

I don’t know if it was deliberate or just dumb luck, but my favorite part of Narcos: Mexico Season 2 Episode 7 (“Truth and Reconciliation”) doesn’t come up in conversation between the characters. It’s not a plot point either, or a particularly striking shot. It’s just rain, that’s all—a gentle patter of rain.

The rain falls on the windows of a truck as DEA Agent Walt Breslin is driven back from a meeting with Juárez plaza boss Pablo Acosta by his girlfriend, Mimi. Spurred by her secret pregnancy and by her love for the man himself, Mimi called in a tip to the U.S. Embassy that Acosta might be willing to play ball and help bring Miguel Ángel Félix Gallardo down. Walt dutifully hears the man out as they hang out on his roof and share beers—and stories of their brothers, both of them led to their deaths by drugs. Mimi explains to Walt that she hasn’t told Pablo about her pregnancy because his decision to walk away from his life of crime must be made for his own sake. As she and Walt talk, little drops of rain plink down the windshield—droplets of life and hope in an arid landscape. Again, I don’t know if this was an artistic choice, but how much of any work of art comes down to choice, anyway?

I reviewed Narcos: Mexico Season 2 Episode 7 for Decider.