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.

Even so, it couldn’t be more evident that the show’s portrayal is a celebration of women (gangster style, of course), devoted to highlighting the strengths and determination of every female character (on both sides of the law), no matter how big or small their roles are. It’s easy to see why: in a criminal underworld famously ruled by cruel and savage men (as much on television as in real life), Griselda Blanco was able to triumph and become a respected and feared leader no one wanted to mess with. Thus, the male business associates, enemies, lovers, and helpers are only allowed to exist in the shadows here and emerge when the plot makes it necessary. That said, however, some of the miniseries’ most captivating characters are exactly these men who make every moment in the spotlight memorable.

Alberto Guerra’s hitman, Dario—first an enemy, then an ally—is one of the show’s most compelling characters. A conscientious, complex, and, at times, conflicted sicario you could easily build a show around. Right next to him is Jorge “Rivi” Ayala (played with toxic charm by Martin Rodriguez), an indecipherable killer and conspirator whose words can be just as lethal as his hands. But these are just two examples of a vastly talented pool of Hispanic actors who bring their best to assist in a story centered around a powerful woman. It’s thanks to their united effort that Griselda truly feels like a true peer to Narcos at its best moments.

But it wouldn’t be right to ignore what draws most viewers in when it comes to stories like this. After all, Escobar didn’t fear Griselda for no reason. Some of her wicked methods and the sheer volume of murders she ordered as a “solution” to most of her problems are showcased here in apt gory fashion. The lifestyle of Colombian drug lords might be romanticized when it comes to television and film, but as we know, there’s no glory or anything cool about overt violence. Beheaded corpses, rivers of blood, and quick, undignified deaths are what are left in the wake of Blanco’s chase for power and greed. Not to mention the innocent and often way-too-young lives that became collateral damage to her. Griselda doesn’t shy away from these brutalities (even if its depiction is far less excessive than Narcos fans are used to) and shows what being The Queen of Cocaine meant and the price she had to pay—losing the very people she started all this for in the first place.

Overall, Netflix’s Griselda delivers another absorbing crime ballad about a Colombian drug kingpin with style, dedication, and a stellar cast that likely won’t disappoint fans of the genre. Though it’s no Narcos, it’s pretty close—and that’s high praise any TV show should be proud of.

Griselda premieres January 25th on Netflix.

Akos Peterbencze is an entertainment writer based in London. He covers film and TV regularly on Looper, and his work has also been published in Humungus, Slant Magazine, and Certified Forgotten. Akos is a Rustin Cohle aficionado and believes that the first season of True Detective is a masterpiece. You can find him talk about all-things pop culture on Twitter (@akospeterbencze) and Substack (@akospeterbencze).

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