Initially, biopics were probably made with the intention of shedding light on the stories of unsung heroes whose contribution to some profession or other has gone unnoticed. Or they were made in order to celebrate a well-known figure and educate younger generations about who they should be indebted to when they do the most ordinary stuff in life. But somewhere along the line, this genre turned into a hub for either propaganda, whitewashing, or defamation. This also led to a decline in the filmmaking and storytelling departments as artists took the blandest approaches to tell a tale “inspired” by real life so that these movies and TV shows could influence even the most smooth-brained individuals out there. Thankfully, there are outliers where the subject matter has been shown in a way that doesn’t seem like a blatant glorification of their exploits. I am talking about Amar Singh Chamkila, Baby Reindeer, The Aviator, Tetris, Tesla, Elvis, Spencer, Rocketman, Narcos, The Social Network, and more. Superstar does fall into the same category; however, it’s so audacious and mind-boggling that it is in a league of its own.
Nacho Vigalondo’s Superstar is based on the life of Yurena, the Spanish pop star who attained fame in the 2000s after the success of her song “No Cambie,” got embroiled in a bunch of controversies, crashed out, and then made a compelling comeback in the 2010s. If you want a more or less factual representation of her life story, Netflix has released a companion piece to this miniseries, which is a documentary on Yurena called I Am Still A Superstar. If you want to have a fantastical sensory overload while going on an emotional rollercoaster ride with all the people that influenced Yurena and were influenced by her, then and only then should you stick around. I guess the first thing that’s going to throw you off is the structure or format of the show: it’s anthological. You are introduced to Yurena through the eyes of her mother, Margarita. Then, in the second episode, you learn about her collaborator, Leonardo Dantes. That’s followed by a deep dive into her manager, Arlekin, and Loly, the girl whose career Yurena apparently “stole.” After that you meet Paco Porras, whose sole aim was to “silence” Yurena. Then there’s an Avengers-esque team-up, led by Tony Genil, to humiliate Yurena just when she had hit rock bottom. And lastly, we are taken into an alternate reality to learn about Marimar, a version of Yurena who never became a pop star… Yeah, it’s a lot.
I sat down to watch Superstar with no expectations. I hadn’t seen the trailer. I knew literally nothing about Yurena. The only thing I was mentally prepared for was a by-the-numbers retelling of a story that her fans were already familiar with, which’d be palatable enough to impress new fans and boost Yurena’s sales. What Vigalondo, Maria Bastaros, Paco Bezerra, and Claudia Costafreda presented was anything but that. I mean, let’s talk about the first episode. It’s a pretty simple premise involving a mother assisting her daughter through the various stages of her career, thereby highlighting the universal experience where a parent sees their child as a child no matter how popular they become. But then the setting shifts to a haven for all those mothers who have suffered an existential crisis while trying to navigate the ups and downs of their respective daughters’ lives. And that transition is undoubtedly jarring, but since the writers keep a firm grip on the emotional throughline of the narrative, as a viewer, you rarely feel alienated. The same can be said about the rest as well. Leonardo’s episode is kind of like the Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Loly’s episode is extremely Lynchian. Paco Porras’ episode is very Eyes Wide Shut-esque. And Marimar’s episode is reminiscent of Coraline. In comparison to all of that, Tony Genil’s saga is relatively grounded and straightforward. Hence, it’s clear that the writers have taken some really wild swings here, but since it serves a singular purpose—which is painting a vivid picture of the world that Yurena and the people around her lived in—the overarching themes and underlying commentaries consistently feel pointed and relevant.
If the writing in Superstar is hard to describe, you can only imagine how difficult it must be to talk about the visuals conjured by Vigalondo and Costafreda. I think I spent 90 percent of the show’s runtime just exclaiming “What!?” because I couldn’t believe what I was looking at. In the first episode itself, Vigalondo and his hugely talented team of VFX artists, SFX artists, production designers, cinematographers, editors, and art designers come together to treat a window like a slideshow of the world around us. And just when you have familiarized yourself with that concept, they bend reality to mess with your mind. The techniques that they use are simple, but it’s the suddenness with which they employ said techniques that’s impressive. Arlekin’s clown costume is an integral part of his narrative, and the way the diamond-shaped patterns on it serve as an indicator of his declining “aura” is so effective. Paco’s journey into the misogynistic underbelly of Spain is filled with so much phallic and yonic imagery that, if you are a prude, you are going to blow a gasket over it. Miramar’s confrontation with Yurena heavily utilizes projectors and TV screens to hint at the characters’ underlying sentiments, and it’s nothing short of masterful. It might seem like I am undermining the potency of the Tony Genil episode, but I think it exists to give the audience a bit of a breather after all the chaos they’ve sat through; hence, it doesn’t do anything too crazy. That said, it offers a heavy dose of cringe, and you need to brace yourself to deal with that. In addition to all that, the songs, the sound design, and the world-building are all top-notch. I have no complaints when it comes to the technical departments whatsoever.
Coming to the acting, it’s a slam dunk, through and through. Ingrid Garcia-Jonsson has delivered a career-defining performance. The stuff that she does in that final episode is jaw-dropping. The effortlessness with which she shifts gears in a matter of 60 minutes is phenomenal. It is one of the best performances that I have seen this year. Secun de la Rosa is excellent as Leonardo and Dantes. In any other movie or show, a character like this would’ve been relegated to the sidelines, but here he gets to be in the spotlight, and Rosa makes sure that not a single second of his screen time goes to waste. Carlos Areces, who plays Paco Porras, clearly has no inhibitions. I mean, the whole cast is willing to push the boundaries of entertainment to its maximum, but Areces is a cut above the rest when it comes to being unhinged for the sake of storytelling. Julian Villagran and Natalia de Molina’s portrayal of heartbreak, betrayal, and misfortune is truly something. Also, I think they would’ve made David Lynch proud if he were around to watch the show. The best way to describe Pepon Nieto’s performance is by calling him a human machine gun. The speed, efficiency, and loudness with which he delivers dialogue is insane. Rocio Ibanez in the role of Margarita is simply splendid and puts every cliche depiction of a mother in a biopic to shame. Sofia Gonzalez’s casting as Tamarita might be controversial; I understand the intent behind it, but it dangerously walks the line between exploitative and provocative. The rest of the supporting cast is brilliant; please, sit through the credits after each episode to respect their work and also appreciate the effort that’s been put into creating the end credits.
Superstar is definitely not for everyone. It’s weird, abstract, zany, frenetic, disjointed, overambitious, overindulgent, unwieldy, and at times, incomprehensible. But I think those are the very things that impressed me. I am not going to sit here and pretend that I understood everything that the showrunners were throwing at me; I am not that smart. However, what I appreciate is that they did something different. If you are okay with bland adaptations of Wikipedia articles of your favorite celebrities, that’s fine, I guess. I don’t like that kind of biography, though. I want something that does more than just explain what life was for the real-life counterpart of the subject of a movie or a show. I want to be transported into their mind and see life through their eyes. I don’t want to be told how chaotic things were for them; I want to experience that chaos. I don’t want some surface-level exploration of their body of work; I want an unnecessarily in-depth exploration of it. Superstar gave me all that and more. And that’s why I can’t keep myself from giving it a perfect score. I hope more biographies, feature-length or episodic, aspire to be like this. If they can’t, maybe they shouldn’t. Because, for me, this is the benchmark that needs to be surpassed now.
