Rating: 3 out of 5.

Sneha Jaiswal (Twitter | Instagram)

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned

Griselda Blanco is an angry young woman, betrayed, humiliated, and belittled by her mafioso husband over a debt he couldn’t settle. So she kills him and flees the country with her three sons to start her own drug empire in the city of vice – Miami. But it’s the 1970s, so the road to becoming a lady narco is one hell of a ride.

Loosely based on real events, the 2024 Netflix series “Griselda” stars Sofía Vergara as its titular star. Episode one begins with a punchy quote from Colombian drug lord Pablo Escobar: “The only man I was ever afraid of was a woman named Griselda Blanco.” The words disappear to make way for a tense opening sequence, featuring an injured Griselda attempting to dress her wound while plotting her escape from Medellín to Miami, with her three young sons in tow.

Titled “Lady Comes to Town,” episode one immediately establishes a violent, gritty pace for the series, with the cinematography echoing the warm, burnt tones of crime-capers. While Griselda and her goons go about selling drugs and killing rivals, a parallel sub-plot follows Juliana Aidén Martinez as June, a police officer investigating drug cartels in Miami and figuring out a new woman in town is spreading her tentacles in the cocaine trade. This juxtaposition of two different women trying to rise in male-dominated industries, one in criminal circles and the other in law enforcement, culminates in poetic justice, where one ‘bitch’ (in June’s words) outdoes the other.

Over the course of six episodes, Sofía Vergara transforms from being a desperate, protective mother looking to start afresh to a ruthless criminal, killing everybody who stands in her way. However, this personality switch occurs too slowly, and there’s an unwitting sexism in the story execution – as if Griselda’s role as a mother supersedes all her other characteristics, which isn’t true at all. For the first four episodes, the creators prop up Griselda like some great wronged mother figure who is extracting her pound of flesh for her sons. One would expect a drug queen to be cold-blooded, calculated, and filled with unhinged rage, but instead, Griselda is often skittish, scared, and teary. The ruthless bloodlust mixed with cocaine-fueled madness only emerges in episode 5. For the first four episodes, the creators try hard to paint her as a benevolent ‘Godmother’ and then take a 180-degree turn, finally letting her be a dreaded, vicious linchpin.

Sofía Vergara as Griselda Blanco.

Sofia Vergara shoulders both these personalities with aplomb, but she makes Griselda seem a lot more humane. The character needed to manifest the Jekyll/Hyde personality switch from the start, a woman who is compassionate to her friends and family, but brutally savage to others. Griselda was already knee deep in the drug business in Columbia and commits matricide in her opening scene, so treating the character with kid-gloves was unwarranted. And once you see what the real Griselda Blanco looked like, it also becomes too apparent how the creators unsuccessfully try to cake Vergara with make-up to make her look less attractive (a completely futile attempt) and more intimidating.

The series is choppily paced —while the plot moves at lightning speed, slow dramatic shots focusing on character expressions and movements create a sense of slowness. Episodes 2 & 3 delve into Griselda’s rapid ascent in Miami’s drug world, where she taps into an untouched market, namely “Rich White People” (also the title of episode 2). By episode 3, she emerges as a formidable force, securing a generous buyout plan from a wealthy drug cartel aiming to monopolize Miami’s cocaine business.

Episode 4 witnesses Griselda consolidating absolute power, but the subsequent two editions focus on her rapid downfall, leaving a conspicuous absence of the “good times.” After the considerable effort spent propping her up, one would anticipate the protagonist savoring some success, yet the series skips three years in a time jump. Griselda is now the ‘big bad wolf,’ living in a sprawling mansion lined with guards, throwing lavish parties where lines of cocaine are served as starters. The 70s disco era, glitz, and glam are all present in the mafioso lifestyle, creating an atmosphere reminiscent of a Godfather-like aesthetic, but with more bling.

In this one-woman show, only a few others leave their mark with their limited screen time. Alberto Guerra is memorable as Dario, who starts off as Griselda’s rival, eventually becoming her bodyguard and lover. Martín Rodríguez is low-key amusing as Rivi, once a rival who swears loyalty to Griselda, turning into her whispering man, always putting ideas into her head. Martin as Rivi is sexy, dopey, slightly cuckoo, and undergoes the best character development in the show. He is barely noticeable in the first few episodes, only to evolve into Griselda’s right-hand man, akin to a snake in Medusa’s head.

Juliana Aidén Martinez delivers a measured and professional portrayal of June, the lone woman cop determined in her pursuit of a possible woman mafioso in town. Her colleagues, bound by stereotypical thinking, dismiss the idea that a woman could be anything other than a girlfriend or a wife in the underworld. However, the creators take considerable creative liberty with the investigating plotline, making June’s involvement in the case more personal than necessary. Nevertheless, in the grand scheme of the drama, it effectively unfolds as a compelling “woman versus woman” tale.

Despite all the character development flaws, “Griselda” is entertainingly formulaic, and in a genre jammed with megalomaniac crime lords, this series manages to be a fresh tale of a woman making grown men cry, crawl, and die at her feet. If only all episode could’ve had the unhinged energy of the last two episodes, “Griselda” would’ve been so much more fun.

You can stream the series on Netflix.

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