«Sky Rojo» and threatening clouds

Saturday movie platforms - Kelly Lambiel

A good omen in the evening, a red sky is a bad omen in the morning. As the saying goes, the new Netflix series, «Sky Rojo», seduces at first, perplexes later. Sexy at bedtime, disturbing in the morning; attractive at night, unpleasant in the light of day. Where does the discomfort lie?

A sultry, offbeat aesthetic

For Álex Pina and Esther Martínez Lobato, it was a question of striking hard, while taking advantage of the fantastic platform offered by the worldwide success of La casa de papel to tackle social issues that affect them. While we await the end of the Professor's adventures, the creators once again plunge us into the world of big-hearted anti-heroes. This time, Coral (Verónica Sánchez), Gina (Yany Prado) and Wendy (Lali Espósito) are not criminals. On the contrary, they are the victims. Victims first of poverty, then of their oppressors and, finally, of the system that makes them vulnerable. The theme is dark and harsh, but there's no melodrama on the horizon: even if the central issue is prostitution, the treatment given to the subject remains, to say the least, wacky.

Between humor and violence, tenderness and indecency, suspense and romance, we are forced to follow, almost breathlessly, three young women in their quest for independence and freedom. Chases, weapons, drugs, latin lovers muscular, cartoonish antagonists and nudity. Some are already imagining that this is the umpteenth Fast and Furious; For my part, I see in it all the qualities of a lively, polished narrative, in the style of Guy Ritchie. There's nothing wrong with the form, at least in absolute terms. Admittedly, the short format of the twenty-five-minute episodes, the camerawork, the beauty of some of the images, the scathing lines and the endearing, if slightly ridiculous, character of the characters can be quite compelling and, at first, give the impression that this is an original way of raising awareness and tackling the issue of human trafficking.

Finally, why not «laugh» at what makes you cry? As an avid reader and admirer of the theater of the absurd, I'm quite used to and in favor of bringing a little «levity» to highly controversial subjects. Usually, I find that reverse catharsis - that is, first distancing oneself through pleasure and laughter, and then proceeding to a kind of identification and deeper questioning - is a highly effective weapon. However, it has to be said that, in the case of Sky Rojo, But for me, there's something not quite right, and in a way, even dangerous. From spectator to voyeur, in the end I have the unpleasant feeling of having taken on, for the space of a season, the role of accomplice in this repugnant traffic.

The contrast with a harsh reality

Firstly, because I've watched actresses with their dreamy plasticity, most of the time stripped naked and in positions each more lascivious than the next, denounce the status of women-objects. Not that I'm saying you have to hide your body, be sexy or speak crudely to be credible when you want to defend the feminist cause, on the contrary. But was it really necessary to make the actresses suck fingers in close-up when Coral's voice-over explains that clients are particularly fond of practicing double penetration or sodomy, even if the discrepancy between speech and image can produce an interesting effect? Does seeing young women in garter belts licking and enjoying a giant phallus-shaped cake really help raise awareness of the cause? Could we really do without the sexy car wash scene?

Secondly, because, probably suffering from Stockholm syndrome and Pretty Woman by proxy, I found myself thinking that the love story between the pimp and his employee, or the prostitute and her client, were somehow «sweet» because they were well presented. Again, far be it from me to reduce the world to a simplistic dichotomy separating the good guys from the bad guys, but just because Moisés' (Miguel Ángel Silvestre) good looks and abs are nice to look at, and the young man turns out to be a tough guy with a soft heart, don't make me forget that the guy abuses women!

Certainly, in parallel, other moments and characters ask real questions; demonstrating, with a word or a look, all the affliction, injustice, disgust, unease or hatred that girls can feel for their clients or pimps. It's a real, moving experience. But these are quickly swept aside by a humorous or action-packed scene, such as Wendy's rape. The case is closed in a few minutes, barely enough time for the young woman to realize that even far from the club, she's still being mistreated, and to tell herself, while eating a chocolate bar, that it's better, after all, to be fat.

All in all, although the intention is good (I think), I really wonder what's left of this male gauze, which, in my opinion, has been misused. So yes, we understand the hypocrisy of the system which, officially, denounces prostitution but allows this kind of establishment to obtain legal status. We can also see, without excessive moralizing, that the client, though he may deny it, bears a large share of the responsibility. And what about us, the spectators, when we consume this kind of content? If we insist on portraying the protagonists as «strong women» and avoid at all costs portraying the prostitutes as victims and the pimps as executioners, I'm afraid - even if we get attached to them for their awkward, whole-hearted characters - we'll end up forgetting that behind the entertainment lies a sad reality.

Write to the author: kelly.lambiel@leregardlibre.com

Photo credits: © Tamara Arranz - Netflix