Midas' favorites: when the best is the enemy of the good

There is a new type of series, more and more common by the way, that looking interesting, even posing serious moral dilemmas and even being entertaining in its weaving and unweaving of plots should by force, and due to the crazy use of the gerund, be good .

Nothing indicates otherwise.

;

the scenarios of a lot of glass luxury, and the use of both drones and generous extras.

And by good, and without getting dizzy, we understand the same as the algorithm, which is something like the most platonic of ideas but without the slightest substance.

And so.

But no.

Despite everything, despite appearances, despite even the gerund, this new sub-genre of series determined to transcend its transitory status as a fast consumer product ends up being, and against all odds, not as good as it claims.

You can, as it were, his desire to impress, his desire to do everything right,

, his excessive lack of measure.

His confused and excessive submission, conscious or not, to the algorithm.

'The Midas favorites', by

, is a good example.

Based on a short story by

, from the first second it puts the viewer in one of those situations that, however uncomfortable, they always like.

How would we react to the dilemma of paying or seeing how our blackmailers eliminate a person from the wide world?

Be careful that it is not a relative, a friend or a simple acquaintance or neighbor.

No, the victim is someone we know absolutely nothing about.

Would we pay or would we just look the other way?

Disturbing.

And it is because at the end of the day that is more or less the crossroads that many of us, as first world citizens, face every day.

It is not so much a metaphor, but also as evidence.

.

It is so.

Just look at the Mediterranean.

Or much closer even.

Well, the artifact of the new

places

at the center of that blackmail

.

He, the top executive heir to the presidency of a large company, is each one of us.

Without exaggeration, of course.

He is hurt by the dilemma of yore and he will have to decide whether to look the other way or try to do something.

Even if it's a little bit.

Every time he refuses to pay, yes, a new corpse.

In between, a tormented policeman played by

, a more than just a journalist who is given life by

and a production design that, in principle, it is difficult to doubt.

Everything should fit, but it doesn't.

The problem is self-awareness,

.

Each luxury setting, for example and because it is abundant, is reconverted into a universe so typified (all the houses of the rich seem taken from a catalog of homes for soccer players) that it ends up being something unreal.

And the same is true for newspaper editorials taken from the series of poorly dressed journalists, as for the police stations where the police imitate nerve agents from other much worse series.

And that

!

It is difficult to understand the sacrifice of verismo or simple verisimilitude, in favor of a well braided plot (yes).

The most painful thing of all is the lackluster work of the actors.

Neither the always immense Tosar, nor the permanent worried face of Toledo, nor the forever sad look of Belmonte at times find neither their place nor their justification.

And hurts.

Few such diaphanous examples of a series so successful, timely and original in its approach as finally discouraging in its excessive gravity.

.

Say the algorithm or your swineherd.

According to the criteria of The Trust Project

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