![]() The show’s conscience is Michael Peña as DEA agent Kiki Camarena, who arrives in Guadalajara as Gallardo’s operation is gaining momentum, and is aghast at his new colleagues’ inadequacy. It boasts an all-time great “not even caring as the cops burst in” bloody farewell for a knackered villain, more than one textbook bacchanalian party in a criminal’s spectacular but tacky mansion, and several corking scenes where a seasoned triple-crosser huffily realises, just before they get shot in the face, that someone else has quadruple-crossed them. Narcos: Mexico also knows which more conventional set pieces will bring viewers the guilty rush we crave. ![]() The sequence where these two idiots dance delightedly as Karma Chameleon plays on their brand-new CD player (“It doesn’t skip! It doesn’t skip!”) is the sort of outright comedy your average drug drama wouldn’t have the balls to attempt. As he tries to stay organised, impetuous tearaway Rafa (Tenoch Huerta) and jowly old deviant Don Neto (Joaquín Cosío – if it were an American character you might cast Richard Kind or Rip Torn) constantly threaten to screw everything up. Meanwhile, Gallardo and his close confidants form an endlessly amusing sitcom trio. Mexico in the early 1980s is a carnival of broad eccentrics and wild style choices, starting in episode one with a pair of angry weed-dealing brothers sporting ludicrous Dumb & Dumber haircuts. The first thing it gets right is that it’s funny: like all ill-educated, self-made businessmen, gangsters tend towards garish absurdity, and that’s heightened here by the era and location. It’s the same story, but they’re all entertaining in their own way and Narcos: Mexico is a bigger buzz than most. ![]()
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