A Rashomon episode of Los Espookys would fall somewhere between “illuminating” and “incomprehensible,” so different are the perspectives from which each of our Espookys sees the world. (I would still like to see it, if anyone from the show is reading this.) And sure, to a certain extent, we’re all living in a simulation of our own design. But getting on Andrés’s vibrational level, let alone Tati’s, would be impossible for most human beings without psychedelic drugs — or witchcraft.
It’s October, so I’m going to lean into the occult analysis here and say both Tati and Andrés intuitively understand that magic (“magick,” if you’re witchy) is about little more than bending the subtle forces of the universe to your will. Andrés is an expert in creating his own reality in this way; it might just be the wealth and privilege, but he gets what he wants when he wants it without even trying. He also maintains his own version of an animist type of practice, as seen in his friendship with the moon (Yalitza Aparicio) and hiw more tenuous social connection to a famous comet that’s scheduled to pass by the Earth. Andrés amid a crowd of naked Wiccans singing hymns to the moon is a very silly thought, to be sure. But while the fashion senses are wildly different, the intent isn’t too far off. Andrés’s world is thrillingly alive, and he works it like a cocktail party.
Andrés is also living his best life as a wicked stepparent from a fairy tale this week, gently placing tarantulas in bouquets and switching off the moonlight to teach little Alberto and Manuela (or whatever their names are) a valuable life lesson about the joys of terror. The little shits don’t appreciate Andrés’s gift, which shows how insensitive they are to his affliction of not giving a shit about them. At least he got to feel his evil-queen fantasy for just a moment, stepping out into the garden as children ran away from him screaming.
But Tati is the show’s most powerful wizard. She’s able not only to tailor her reality to fit her fantasies but to get the world to play along. (This is Andrés’s greatest Achilles’ heel; people get sick of his entitlement after a while, forcing him to come down to their level.) Of course Romeo and Juliet: The Tati Edition and One Hundred Years of Solitude: The Tati Edition are reshaping the world in Tati’s image. She operates on exactly the right frequency of inanity to make it all click into place in Los Espookys’ absurd world. It’s tempting to assign more intention to Andrés’s witchy ways than Tati’s just because of how Tati is. But if this show has taught me anything, it’s never to dismiss whatever’s going on in Tati’s brain, even though she is an objectively terrible negotiator.
And although season two of Los Espookys emphasizes comedy over terror, a horror movie has been unfolding in front of Úrsula’s eyes all season. She is both an idealist and a reasonable person, which means that it pains her on a deep personal level to be stuck in the Kafkaesque nightmare of being surrounded by idiots 24/7. “She’s a lonely girl, and you can feel that about her,” Cassandra Ciangherotti says of Úrsula in a recent interview with Rotten Tomatoes. It’s “the price of being aware and awake.” And yet she still tries.
With her sister, Tati, she doesn’t have much of a choice; Tati drifts on a donut-shaped pool float down the lazy river of life, and Úrsula makes sure they both have food to eat and beds to sleep in. That’s the curse of being the responsible sibling. But assisting Mayor Teresa Lobos with her campaign was a voluntary project — and given that Mayor Teresa has now let her down twice, hopefully that’ll be it. For a moment during this week’s disastrous debate, I thought maybe Úrsula would get up to the podium and replace Mayor Teresa as a presidential candidate. But things like that don’t happen to Úrsula, just to her friends.
Renaldo is in a similar situation, though his inability to find a moment for himself may be self-imposed. His mom and sister don’t ask a lot of him, really — just bathe Frutsi (a joy, I’m sure) and keep Monica busy as Los Espookys’ office-manager-ish person. And though Tico’s still just hanging around looking for new meaning in his life, he also keeps himself busy enough with little projects that he’s not jumping down his nephew’s throat all the time. (Renaldo’s little sister, Beatriz, is going to hate that dress, but it’s sweet Tico tried.)
Renaldo did do something for himself on this week’s episode, opening tabs on his computer to watch gay, straight, and bisexual porn as well as a video called “Deaf man hears his wife’s voice for the first time.” But rather than providing clarity, all that did was bring the ghost of Nuestra Belleza Latina back to the forefront of Renaldo’s consciousness. That raises a few possibilities: Renaldo might be asexual, he might have a fetish for mysteries, or — and this is the tricky one — he might be fixated on her because she’s dead. I’m inclined to give him the benefit of the doubt and say he’s not a necrophiliac, however, for no other reason than it being a darker, crueler joke than we usually see on this show. (Yes, it’s spooky, but the writing is also quite low key.) That being said, Pepito, the client who tried to hire Los Espookys for weird sex stuff in season one, is back and popping open tombs, so who knows?
The reason I’m thinking about perspective and the little cages we make for ourselves this week is mostly due to the return of another client from season one: Dr. Lucrecia (María José Illanes), introduced as the uptight scientist who hired Los Espookys to pretend to be aliens so she could fool her bosses into giving her more grant money. Both Andrés and Úrsula hated Dr. Lucrecia the first time around, so the fact that they’re working with her a second time means either they’re not in a position to turn down a job or Renaldo is being too nice again. (It’s probably a mix of both.)
Regardless, Dr. Lucrecia has decided that her husband is the cause of all her problems, even the ones from before she met him. And she will not be deterred from this perception. “It’s very hard to take responsibility for my actions when I’m still married to my husband,” she complains, but that’s exactly why she’s doing it. Trying to cut through her bullshit and get her to actually take responsibility for the fact that she’s sick of this man and should probably just divorce him (it’s fine! It happens!) is impossible. So everyone just goes along with her because it’s easier than trying to bring her back to reality.
It’s a casually profound statement on human nature — and, yes, politics — much like the sexy-lady signs last week. This is how bullshit like Alex Jones and QAnon gets mainstreamed: by wearing people down until they just give up on trying to disprove even objectively absurd statements. Reality is malleable in whimsical ways and frightening ones. With that in mind, who can begrudge someone who just wants to make theirs a little more interesting? Those kids didn’t actually get hurt …
It’s Me, Tati
• A search for “huge sun hat” turned up a surprising number of gigantic-yet-affordable options on Amazon dot com, if Andrés’s school-pickup look gave anyone else ideas. Look at this one! It’s enormous!
• Another search, this one for “mystery-solving fetish,” led me to a soft-core gay detective novel called Death by C*ck, the existence of which I simply could not keep to myself. You’re welcome!
• I finally got around to listening to Ana Fabrega and Julio Torres’s recent appearance on Las Culturistas, which had some really interesting insights into the making of Los Espookys season two. The facts to take away are these: First, the reason season two took so long is production was shut down by the COVID-19 pandemic in March 2020 — an obvious insight, perhaps, but the details are interesting. (Fabrega specifically mentions that the Shakira statue scene was shot pre-lockdown, for example.) Second, apparently rich people in Chile, where the show is filmed, are obsessed with Marilyn Monroe. So picture giant lipstick prints and faux Andy Warhol portraits just out of frame at Juan Carlos and friends’ palatial pads.
• The location of the Latin American city where Los Espookys takes place is vague. It might even be fictional! But if I recall my New Orleans ghost tour correctly, it’s probably below sea level because — as in New Orleans — the residents of this city bury their dead above ground. (Anti-work icon Oliver Twix is also very lazy, so we have to factor that in as well, of course.)
• One reason I suspect Los Espookys might take place in a dimension adjoining our own are the tweaks to pop-culture character names. This week, Renaldo mentions “Mickey Moose,” and the season premiere had an appearance from “Harvey Potter.”
• Although this episode was typically light on horror, there was some great, spooky mood-setting camerawork when Dr. Lucrecia’s husband gets off the bus and is confronted with a gas station full of people with his face — until the doctor ruins it, as she does everything.
• If Sonia gets bored with good old-fashioned cybersquatting, she might excel in the world of patent fraud.
• A couple funny details from Mayor Teresa Lobos’s campaign office: She and her cousin using a cootie catcher (that’s what I grew up calling them; you might have a different term) to forecast the election — another example of magical thinking — and the basket of eggs on the table.
• I’ve been loving the music that plays over the end credits of each episode this season. This week: “Magnétique,” from Mexican dark-wave band La Bande-Son Imaginaire.
