Nonlinear storytelling wasn’t invented by Christopher Nolan; it’s a tool that’s as old as the medium of literature and motion pictures itself. Among the earliest examples are apparently Homer’s Iliad, Vyasa’s Mahabharata, and several stories in The Arabian Nights. When it comes to cinema, Buster Keaton’s Sherlock Jr., Alfred Hitchcock’s Rebecca, and Orson Welles’ Citizen Kane can be credited for both perfecting this gimmick and making it palatable to the general public. As for television, shows like True Detective (the first season), Pachinko, Sharp Objects, Dark, and The Haunting of Hill House are the pinnacle of nonlinear narratives, at least for me, primarily because the timeline jumps gave the themes a lot of depth and fleshed out the characters in a way that wouldn’t have been possible if it was given to us straight. However, much like anything that’s popular, talentless hacks jumped on the bandwagon to milk the hell out of this narrative technique without putting much thought into it, thereby leading to a slew of projects that were just a confusing mess. The latest one to join that pile of nonsense is Delirium.
Andres Burgos and Veronica Triana’s Delirium, based on the novel of the same name by Laura Restrepo, with the episodes being directed by Julio Jorquera and Rafael Martinez, tells the story of Agustina, a budding tarot card reader and professional “explorer of the world,” who falls in love with Professor Aguilar. They begin living together and making love to each other at every waking hour of the day. And eventually, Aguilar decides to introduce her to Antonio and Carlos, his sons from his previous marriage, much to Martha’s (his ex-wife) disapproval, but Agustina ends up being a no-show. That’s because she leaves to attend her father’s funeral, which is where we are introduced to her mother, Eugenia, brother, Joaco, and her first love, Midas. Agustina eventually returns to Aguilar, and the two even get married, but something about her father’s death and her chance meeting with Midas opens up a can of worms that had remained buried for an unhealthy amount of time. As Agustina’s mind unravels, Aguilar commences a quest to get to the heart of the issues in his wife’s life.
Delirium has two main plotlines. One is that of Agustina and her mental health issues, and the other is centered around Midas and his rise and fall as a drug smuggler. Since Agustina and Midas were and are romantically involved, the narrative jumps between their past and present to give us a complete idea of the nature of their relationship. And given how Agustina’s mental illness is a result of generational trauma and many other things, the story also oscillates between her family’s history and her present predicaments. What does this actually achieve? Umm… confusion. Look, if the writers’ intention was to put the audience in the shoes of the protagonist, who has trouble differentiating between reality and fiction from time to time, then mission bloody accomplished. If their intention was to tell some layered tale about a woman who was wronged by her family, then they have failed miserably because that’s eclipsed by Midas’ Nightmare Alley-esque arc where he starts from nothing and returns to nothing. It’s just way more compelling and relatable than some wishy-washy, vague, noncommittal analysis of mental health. Which makes me wonder, what exactly was the point of mushing these two plots together? What was the aim? Did they just do it because they could? Why didn’t they stop to think if they should?
Delirium’s visual storytelling is as confusing as its narrative. The editing, cinematography, production design, costume design, makeup, and even casting rarely indicate what the chronology of the events that are happening is. Sometimes the focus of the episodes alternates between plot threads that weren’t even properly established. The showrunners just throw you into the middle of the mess and leave you to figure your way out of it. For example, there’s a subplot centered around pregnancy and another that’s set in a psychiatric hospital. And the frenetic energy with which they are made to unspool just made me wonder if the pregnancy subplot is a result of the character’s wishful thinking, thereby undermining the emotional impact of the story. I assume that the showrunners were more interested in the gangster plot than the mental illness plot. Hence, you can clearly see that the former is more coherent, while the latter has been haphazardly put together. This affects the overall pacing of the show as well; it’s a tedious watch. Also, what was the point of setting the story in the ‘80s? There’s some hint of political turmoil. Does that influence the rest of the show in any significant way? Not really. Then did they want to invoke some kind of nostalgia? Aren’t we done with that as a society, though? Everything about this miniseries just confuses me.
The performances from the cast of Delirium are sort of the only saving grace here. Juan Pablo Urrego, in the role of Midas, is simply phenomenal. He has great screen presence, and his dialogue delivery is excellent. But the moments where he really shines are where he has to internalize all his emotions. The way he portrays his character’s inability to truly put the pain he is experiencing into words is masterful. Despite the oddball writing, Estefania Pineres is pretty good. Even when the writing fails her, she gets you to empathize with Agustina via her body language and tear-filled eyes. Juan Pablo Raba is sort of the audience surrogate, and he aptly captures the bewilderment that the audience must be feeling while watching this show. His outbursts of pure, unbridled frustration are cathartic. Paola Turbay Gomez, as Eugenia, is regal and annoying at the same time. Salvador Del Solar, as the bigoted Carlos, is subtly villainous. Cristina Campuzano, as Sofia, has a healing effect all over, including on the mind of the viewer. Jose Julian Gaviria unearths new levels of pathetic behavior to portray Joaco. Miguel Gonzalez, Fernando Bocanegra, Norberto Ribera, Carlos Marino, Catalina Arboleda, Angela Cano, and the rest of the supporting cast deliver some incredibly committed performances, which are worth appreciating.
The reason why Delirium feels frustrating to me is because there’s clearly a good story somewhere in there. At the cost of sounding repetitive, Midas’ story is really solid. Nowadays, every gangster movie and show feels the same. They lack nuance, vulnerability, and actual complexity. They just keep building up and up until the franchise or IP comes to a close. They have no real arc or anything relevant to say. Midas offers something that’s rarely seen in this subgenre, and it’s just overshadowed by a hollow story about mental illness. I’m not saying that shows about mental illness shouldn’t happen. But what’s the thought process behind slapping these two plot threads together? What is being achieved by doing so? And then there’s the non-linear narrative. To be clear, that storytelling technique doesn’t automatically make a movie or a show better if it’s wielded without any purpose. It might seem like the constant timeline jumping is making the narrative “complex,” but it actually ends up exposing the hollow core that lies at the center of this unnecessarily elaborate tale. I haven’t read Laura Restrepo’s book, so I can’t say if this is a good adaptation or not. Fellow book readers, feel free to let me know all about it.
