The nonlinear narrative isn’t a new concept and has been practiced by the entertainment industry since the 1900s. But this storytelling tool really saw an uptick in the 2010s—I blame Christopher Nolan—and now almost every movie and show seems to be broken up into several timelines because the artists in question think it gives the story a layer of complexity. But the thing is, there’s a massive chasm between something that’s complex and something that’s convoluted. Since I have brought up Nolan, allow me to use his movies as an example. Most of his stories are pretty straightforward, but he makes the narrative structure complicated so that the journey to the heart of his characters has a sense of intrigue and thrill to it. In Memento and Oppenheimer, this approach of his was at its most efficient. Meanwhile, in Dunkirk and Tenet, it was clunky as hell. Now, instead of learning from Nolan’s mistakes and achievements, I suppose storytellers keep taking the nonlinear route because replicating his methods will help them achieve greatness. On that note, let’s talk about The Crystal Cuckoo.
Jesus Mesas and Javier Andres Roig’s The Crystal Cuckoo, which has been adapted from Javier Castillo’s novel, with the episodes being directed by Laura Alvea and Juan Miguel del Castillo, unfolds across three timelines. In the 2020s, we have Carla, a medical resident from Madrid, who suffers a heart attack and is saved by an emergency transplant. Although it’s customary to keep the donor’s identity a secret, Carla manages to learn about Carlos and takes a trip to Yesques in order to meet his mother, Marta, and his brother, Juan, and spend some time with them as a sign of her gratitude. It doesn’t take too long for her to understand that the small town has been ravaged by mysterious disappearances for quite some time now, with no signs of improvement. This is when we are taken to the 2000s, where we are introduced to Miguel, Marta’s husband and the father of Carlos and Juan. The family is struggling with Carlos’ brittle-bone disease, and Miguel is trying his best to be there for his family. But when a house burns down, killing Luisa (the wife of Gabriel, who is the uncle of Rafa, Miguel’s friend and colleague), Miguel is compelled to reopen the cold case of his sister Magdalena’s disappearance. Why? Because the necklace around Luisa’s neck is similar to the one that Magdalena wore. To trace the origins of that necklace and the source of all of Yesques’ problems, we are then taken to the 1980s to explore the relationship between Rafa and Gabriel.
When I lay it out like that, The Crystal Cuckoo doesn’t seem all that bad. You see the state of this small town and how it’s trying to cope by organizing cultural fests because the best way to “fix” a problem is by ignoring its root cause until it goes away on its own. And every time the clock is turned back 20 years, you get closer to the source of violence against women in that town. I haven’t read Castillo’s novel, but I can totally imagine this style of storytelling working in the literary format. The main issue with the storytelling is when and where the flashbacks are placed. Again, as I haven’t read the book, I can’t say if the flashbacks in there are as random as they are in the screenplay. But the timeline-jumping is so erratic in the miniseries that it never allows you to fully take in the gravity of the situation. Every time you think you are about to get emotionally invested in one plot thread, the writers kick you into another time period. Since this happens multiple times, the overall viewing experience gets ruined. The only thing that’s worse than the flashbacks is the character of Carla. The manner in which she is shoved into this story is so nonsensical. You can try and peddle her as an extension of Carlos’ soul all you want—their names match as well, but that makes Carla and Juan’s romance very weird—I’m not buying it. Maria, Carlos’ girlfriend, was right there. Why couldn’t she have been the protagonist? I guess we’ll never know.
Like a lot of Netflix murder mysteries, The Crystal Cuckoo’s attempts at evoking some sense of complexity are limited to its narrative, because visual storytelling is something that “noobs” care about. Recently, I watched the amazing The Beast In Me, and I realized that if murder mysteries on this streaming platform want to look great, they can. It’s just that the showrunners are too confident that the story will do most of the heavy lifting, meaning they don’t have to care about the cinematography and editing. And I don’t understand the reasoning behind this kind of mindset. The place, which has been turned into the fictional town of Yesques, is clearly so scenic. The architecture shows that the town has its feet both in the past as well as the present, which is in line with the themes of the miniseries. So, why not extract every ounce of potential that such a setting has to offer? Is it a budget issue? Is it a fear of failure? Or is it just good old complacency? That’s a greater mystery than the one in the show. When I read a book, and it triggers my imagination, I start thinking about all the creative ways in which it can be depicted in the live-action or animated format. These showrunners have the means and the resources to actually put their imagination onto the small screen, and all they have to offer is one blandly composed image after another. What a waste.
The performances from the cast of The Crystal Cuckoo are just fine. I don’t have anything else to say about the actors other than that. What’s fascinating to me, though, is that this miniseries serves as a The Gardener reunion for Ivan Massague and Catalina Sopelana. Yeah, apparently I am watching so many trashy Spanish miniseries that I have started recognizing actors almost instantly. And it’s quite possible that I am jumping the gun here, but is there a typecasting epidemic going on in the Spanish entertainment industry? It’s either that or there’s a dearth of diverse stories over there, which is why the same group of actors are being cast in similar stories. Well, I hope these actors are securing that bag, because if they are not getting paid their due after showing up in one run-of-the-mill convoluted murder mystery after another, then what’s even the point? With all that said, do I recommend giving this miniseries a watch? No, not at all. I am sure there are good murder mysteries with non-linear narratives out there that you should spend your time and energy on. If the idea of searching for such titles sounds too taxing, and you just want to watch a goddamn murder mystery right now, then check out The Beast in Me. At least it understands the difference between complex and convoluted.
