Netflix’s Griselda Is a Stylish and Absorbing Crime Ballad

It’s been over two years since Narcos: Mexico ended, and so far, there’s no definite word on when (or if) the El Chapo spinoff will happen. But the good news is that we got the next best thing. Created by Eric Newman, Doug Miro (co-creator of Narcos), Carlo Bernard, Ingrid Escajeda, and directed by series regular director Andres Baiz, Netflix’s Griselda serves as the latest (unofficial) entry in the franchise. The miniseries may not bear the brand name but in essence has everything we came to expect from that quality title: a painstakingly-adapted real-life story, an inimitable Hispanic vibe, and a mesmerizing, vicious portrayal of a drug lord larger than life.

If there was any doubt whether a female narco can be as intriguing as the infamous men (Escobar, Gallardo, Fuentes) we’ve already seen on the screen, Griselda shatters it upfront with a Pablo Escobar quote before the first scene: “The only man I was ever afraid of was a woman named Griselda Blanco.” With that kick-off, the show immediately evokes the fearsome vibe of the Colombia we got to know almost a decade ago in Narcos and never lets it flicker out.

In the following scenes, we see Griselda Blanco (an unrecognizable Sofía Vergara) rush back home in Medellin to tend to a nasty wound she suffered after an altercation with her second husband, Alberto Bravo (Alberto Amman). Before things can escalate to more severe consequences—given what she did to the man who’s a known drug trafficker—she packs up, grabs her three teenage sons, and flees to Miami. Once there, she secures a room in her old friend Carmen’s (Vanessa Ferlito) apartment until she gets on her feet to find her own place. And her first step to do that is to sell a kilo of cocaine she stole from her spouse.

Before long, despite promising Carmen to escape that lifestyle, Griselda embarks on the road to becoming La Madrina (The Godmother) and The Queen of Cocaine in Miami, the first woman from Medellin to run a drug trafficking organization. We see her rise from the first drug deal that goes catastrophically, to running things from a motel with an army of prostitutes smuggling cocaine in their bras, to turning into one of the most feared and insane drug queens in the history of “War on Drugs.”

All this unfolds smoothly in a classic gangster biography manner (as the writers pick moments wisely, both big and small), though it’s impossible not to miss stuff when such a fierce life has to be condensed into six hour-long episodes (which were all provided for review). Still, it’s impressive how many of Blanco’s major life events the creators included here despite leaving out much of her early years and the devastating background she came from.

Years that distilled a tenacious toughness and resilience in Griselda: a former thief and prostitute, trapped by violence and crime from the moment she was born. Although we don’t see and only hear about her rough upbringing in snippets, Vergara conveys a persona shaped by ferocity with an arresting charisma and domination she rarely got to showcase in her previous roles. Buried under a mountain of makeup and prosthetics, she still oozes a palpable sexual energy and effervescent beauty that seeps through the rugged exterior nevertheless. Due to the Hollywood-ified (rough but still glamorous, evocative of the inspiration but pointedly still Vergara beneath it all) look, though, she doesn’t always come across as formidable and terrifying as the real Blanco must have been. Not to mention that Griselda was also a “chameleon,” often gaining and losing massive amounts of weight to throw off her enemies and disguise her appearance in public, which the series dismisses entirely. It’s an element that could’ve been interesting, but it’s also understandable why the creators chose to leave it out.