La Máquina’s main event is the reunion of longtime collaborators Gael García Bernal and Diego Luna, who first collaborated on 2001’s Y tu mamá también. However, an equally compelling draw of this six-episode Spanish-language Hulu series, premiering Oct. 9, is the latter’s gonzo appearance.
Coated in a fake spray tan that makes him resemble a sunburnt racoon, and pumped up with so much self-injected filler that his nose and lips are swollen to bizarre proportions, Luna’s Andy has a visage only a mother could love—and love it she does, given that she too has a decidedly unnatural plastic surgery-reconfigured countenance. Looking like he’s wearing a Halloween mask of his own mug, Andy is a sight to behold, and a fitting face for this story of two men trying to thrive in a sports and underworld environment where nothing is as it seems.
Created by Marco Ramírez and Fernando Coppel, and directed by Gabriel Ripstein, La Máquina is the Mexico-set tale of Andy, a boxing promoter, and his best friend and client Esteban, whose nickname “La Máquina” translates to “The Machine.” Now at the tail end of his illustrious career, the 38-year-old Esteban is introduced fuming over the fact that Saul (Andrés Delgado), Andy’s right-hand man, has failed to find him the soft drink that he always consumes, pre-fight, for good luck. It turns out that he needed that fizzy charm, since he’s subsequently knocked out in the first round by a younger contender, seemingly bringing his celebrated time in the ring to an ignominious end.
As if that defeat weren’t troubling enough, Esteban is also experiencing strange and unnerving hallucinations that seem to be fragments of memories. Unwilling to confront the possibility that a lifetime of punches to the head have left a lasting mark, Esteban keeps this dawning condition secret from his doctor, Andy, and his ex-wife Irasema (3 Body Problem’s Eiza González), with whom he has two sons and who cares for him despite the fact that their marriage has long been over.
Irasema is the daughter of an investigative reporter and is interested in examining the physical and mental toll that boxing takes on its practitioners, and though this comes across as an oh-so-convenient twist, it’s largely consigned to the background so Ramírez and Coppel can focus on their leads’ relationship and increasingly harrowing dilemma.
Andy lends La Máquina its frazzled, flamboyant energy and Esteban provides its heart, and unsurprisingly, Bernal and Luna share fantastic chemistry as the yin-yang pair, who are bonded by reckless impulses and intense loyalty to each other. In the aftermath of Esteban’s loss, Andy employs underhanded tactics to engineer a rematch. His body and confidence badly bruised, the pugilist has no interest in putting his gloves back on, much less preparing for a fight in a mere 12 weeks.
Nonetheless, Andy’s persuasions and his own pride and competitiveness motivate him to get back in shape—a task that revolves around making weight for his welter championship bout. Fortunately, when he steps on the scales in front of the press, Esteban aces this test. Yet this is concerning to Andy, given that he knew Esteban was excessively heavy and, in response, had tried to bribe the judge to pass him, only to have that payoff rejected. How, then, did this all work out so well?
Following Esteban’s unlikely triumph and reclamation of his title belt, La Máquina answers that question, revealing that shadowy forces manipulated events to clear the fighter. They did this because Andy has long worked with these “Other People” to fix fights, including in Esteban’s favor, and they’ve now come to collect on the promoter’s debt by demanding that Esteban agree to, and throw, an upcoming championship-unifying contest.
Thus, Ramírez and Coppel’s series establishes its criminal thread, which is intrinsically intertwined with Esteban’s burgeoning medical problem and substance abuse (he’s a blackout boozer), Andy’s struggles to conceive a child with wife Carlota (Karina Gidi)—an endeavor made more stressful by his domineering and meddling mom—and Irasema’s efforts to unravel a conspiracy involving the sport’s real puppet masters. Amidst all this, Andy and Esteban’s relationship invariably becomes strained, further complicating their problems.
La Máquina is a genre hodgepodge whose grave and goofy tones don’t always mesh, and despite her inherent charisma, González is frustratingly relegated to sidekick duty; her sleuthing storyline is almost as big an afterthought as Esteban’s budding romance with a dancer. Even so, the proceedings have personality to spare, thanks to Luna and Bernal as well as a variety of supporting players who make the most of their screen time, be it the amusingly slacker-ish Saul or Esteban’s old-school trainer Sixto (Jorge Perugorría). Better yet, it boasts excellent direction from Ripstein, who delivers two episode-opening single takes that are not simply marvels of technical showmanship but speak to these characters’ entangled dynamics and winding paths. From a formal perspective, the series is a cut above, and that helps it speed over any pesky narrative potholes.
If Bernal isn’t wholly convincing as a legendary boxer (he was more believable as an over-the-top wrestler in last year’s Cassandro), he still makes Esteban a sympathetic protagonist, and Luna is electric as the shady Andy, whose belief that he can wheel and deal his way out of trouble proves a potentially fatal flaw. Described as a “condom-faced dude” and decked out in flashy clothes, the promoter is a simultaneously familiar and unique creation, and Luna inhabits him so fully and vigorously that La Máquina frequently coasts along on his energy alone. A far cry from his previous work on Andor and Narcos: Mexico, the actor’s performance is dexterous and magnetic, and his authentic rapport with Bernal sells the show’s rollercoaster developments.
Critics weren’t provided the final episode of La Máquina, so there’s currently no way to judge whether Ramírez and Coppel wrap up their saga in satisfying fashion. Regardless, their streaming series is the sort of sharp and smart affair that keeps viewers on their toes and doesn’t dance around the proverbial ring, biding its time to land its blows; rather, courtesy of Ripstein’s stewardship and Bernal and Luna’s charm, it bobs, weaves, and wallops with precision.
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