The woman who works at the counter at the Barajas airport has rehearsed the phrase and looks as if what is happening is something normal in her daily life. And the normal thing is that Teresa Lourdes Borrego Campos, Terelu for all of Spain and now for Miami as a whole, wants to invoice the two-by-two portrait that they make of Mediaset’s star presenters and send it to the United States along with her suitcase. Because without seeing her well-lit face (and without her ColaCao) she doesn’t know how to live.
Meanwhile, the rest of their companions (the Kikos, Matamoros and Hernández, María Patiño, Lydia Lozano, Belén Esteban, Víctor Sandoval and Chelo García Cortés) in turn try to invoice the pulpillo —a kind of giant lectern with stairs—which has served to give the best exclusives and the best laughs of the deceased Save me. The woman who serves them at the counter at the Barajas airport smiles a little at such nonsense. And so, ladies and gentlemen, she begins Every man for himself!just released on Netflix.
The first three episodes are an almost perfect example of what to put into a reality set in Florida. All possible colors gathered in a dress, huge sunglasses and always worn indoors. Extensions, false eyelashes, facial fillers fighting sagging, hair grafts, botulinum toxin and hyaluronic acid in industrial quantities. Clearly visible logos, tattoos, many tattoos. Gym and operating room. Grandiloquent buildings, giant and polluting cars. Where were the collaborators of Save me If not to Miami Beach? It is your ecosystem, your holy headquarters, your amniotic fluid. Fantasy, yes, for those who love coffee.
Television collaborators do what they can with the scripts. Perhaps the creators are aware, as any viewer would be, that such creatures cannot be left to run amok, without rhyme or reason. But it is precisely when you leave them loose and oil comes out. When you just landed at the Miami airport, while traveling on the bus on the way to the hotel, magic happens. When María Patiño gawks out the window and says: “Miami reminds me of Australia. It is very beachy.” And Belén, Belén from Spain and wherever she wants, she responds: “But you haven’t been to Australia! Well, Miami reminds me of Paracuellos.” Detail: Paracuellos del Jarama is the town where the town’s princess and queen of our hearts lives.
From the beginning, it is demonstrated that no matter how much they speak Spanish in the city where Enrique Iglesias grew up, there are a thousand and one differences between their culture and ours. To begin with, in the language, because the characters of Save me They are “panelists” here, and not collaborators. Because they warn you, in that excuse that serves as the axis of reality, that of finding a job instead of asking for an appointment at a SEPE office, be careful with what is said, because here the lawsuits and the lawyers are serious and rumors are not accepted, but certainties. And to succeed you need much more than the recipe that has worked for Kiko Hernández since she left the second edition of Big Brother: “Dialectic and bad shit.”
Great characters
The backbone of the program is María Belén Esteban Menéndez, stripped for centuries of that shyness of the first interview that María Teresa Campos did with her on television, when it seemed that she would be the first bullfighter’s wife for whom her husband had set up shop. of bags to pass the time. She now has another face, another body and a husband who is an ambulance driver, a daughter who doesn’t want to be famous and a million new friends. She loves taking photos with other celebrities like many Spaniards, insatiable at the possibility of showing off later with colleagues and especially with enemies. Although Belén defines it as “taking” or “throwing” photos. She is of a frightening purity, capable of being the most ordinary of all and also the most sensitive. Like when she comforts María Patiño while she cries remembering her parents or scolding Víctor Sandoval for the resentment that lingers in him after her failed marriage to Nacho Polo. Another detail: after the divorce she dedicated a song to him that basically consisted of repeating two words very quickly, “Nacho Polo.” And so on.
![Lydia Lozano, in the first episode of 'Every man for himself!'.](https://imagenes.elpais.com/resizer/5kpr4I-YGcl9WeF_ZZSzEJysEcE=/414x0/cloudfront-eu-central-1.images.arcpublishing.com/prisa/KJSNBDP3AVFIHH7YMYZXKGLPHU.jpg)
Sandoval, by the way, is a person who would end Job’s patience, but he is a great television character who cries, who exaggerates, who says that the house in Miami in which he lived for eight years is cursed because the former owner buried her children in the garden. And so, from those fucks come this whole series of misfortunes that happen to him non-stop, including that time when he got bitten by a spider and almost made him log out. “But how do you know about the former owner?” they ask him. “Cristina Tárrega told me,” he answers very seriously. This Spain should be amnestied.
Plots on local television programs turn out to be irregular, no matter how good the intentions. Only Belén knows who Jenni Rivera is (not only does she know it, everything is known about her and her family), Anuel (“the one who was Karol G’s boyfriend”) and boasts about her friendship with Rosalía. The rest of her colleagues have more of an attitude of being on vacation, something understandable in that brutal Benidorm that is Miami. And the panelists there have little experience on a TV like the Spanish one, although we have met some of them on the also deceased Chinese stories by Jorge Javier Vázquez.
You will enjoy the program, laugh and cry if you are one of those people who has seen its protagonists much more than some members of their family. If you know, for example, about Lydia Lozano’s facility for crying, that the two Kikos united will never be defeated, that Chelo García Cortés is accused of passivity and is called Chelordomo for his servile attitude towards Isabel Pantoja in an edition of Survivors. If you know that Terelu has a reputation for being haughty, that Patiño went to Miami as the owner of two chinchillas and one just died. If she cries with laughter when Belén says to María in the middle of a party aboard a yacht: “His name is José Luis, right? “I don’t want to call him El Puma.”
As wonderful as it is indescribable. It’s very beachy.
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