In the eloquent words of Julio Torres, "fantasmas" transcends the mere translation of ghosts from Spanish to English, echoing a deeper etymological kinship with "fantasy" and "phantasm," hinting at the ethereal, the phantasmagorical—a fleeting apparition, perhaps. While "ghost" conjures a more tangible image, rooted in breath rather than mere vision, the nuances of language have blurred these distinctions, rendering them but whispers in the wind of linguistic evolution. Thus, I would staunchly resist any overzealous translator's urge to transform Julio Torres's captivating HBO series, "Fantasmas," into the mundane "Ghosts."
The premiere of "Fantasmas" is a tapestry woven with dreamlike threads, promising a continuous odyssey through the surreal. Reality, here, is a gentle illusion, not a falsity but a question mark, pondering the essence of dreams and fantasies alike. We find ourselves adrift in a world that is undoubtedly not ours, a possible future where Julio's robotic companion, Bibo (portrayed by Joe Rumrill), stands as a testament to technological advancements. Yet, the era feels incidental, a backdrop for a deeper narrative.
Imagine a dystopian society where the mere act of proving one's existence becomes a grueling task, akin to obtaining a Real ID but fraught with added complexities. Julio, however, finds himself devoid of this crucial document, defiantly resisting the suffocating expectations of a reality that threatens to engulf him.
My interpretation of Julio's dream, or its culminating moments, paints a vivid picture: the walls closing in, a sense of claustrophobia, and his solitary escape route—shedding the fanciful hat, embracing a drab puffer coat, and melting into the anonymous crowd trudging through the snow. I eagerly await the revelations that the Dream Analysis Kit, which Julio intends to submit, might unveil. It would be remarkable if it failed to reveal the underlying theme—Julio's struggle against the pressure to conform, a tale as timeless as the ghosts that haunt our collective imagination.
Julio acquires the enigmatic Dream Analysis Kit from Chester, aka Tomas Matos, whose primary occupation seemingly revolves around being the sole driver for a ride-sharing service named, ironically, "Chester," not the ubiquitous Uber. This detail hints at a subtle intrigue, as if Chester is secretly juggling his duties with Uber while stealthily steering passengers towards his own venture. The intricacies of this arrangement, though intriguing, aren't quite the focus here.
Let's sketch the contours of the first episode of 'Fantasmas' that weaves a tale of neglect and impending doom. Julio consistently shuns envelopes stamped with the ominous word "URGENT," blissfully unaware of their significance. It's only when Bibo, with a touch of trepidation, reads one aloud, that Julio realizes the gravity of his situation: his apartment stands on the brink of extinction as the building transforms into a General Mills Residency. This revelation casts a looming shadow over his life.
However, the charm of 'Fantasmas' transcends its plotline, basking in the eclectic personalities of its characters and the surreal vignettes that pepper its inaugural episode.
Enter the backseat sitcom, 'Melf,' a hilarious parody of 'Alf,' staged within the confines of Chester's car. The scene opens with a larger-than-life puppet named Melf (portrayed by Marc Petrosino), who unexpectedly materializes in a family's living room one fateful night. Melf's appetite for cookies and spaghetti is legendary, but what ensues is even more unconventional—a romantic entanglement with Jeff (played by Paul Dano), the patriarch of the household. Their clandestine affair blossoms, hidden from Jeff's unsuspecting wife, Nancy (Sunita Mani), until a fateful day when Nancy stumbles upon them locked in an intimate embrace within the confines of a closet. This absurd yet endearing subplot adds a delightful layer of absurdity to the already surreal world of 'Fantasmas.'
Jeff and Nancy's divorce serves as a backdrop for a sensational tabloid headline splashing across the screen, proclaiming an extraterrestrial's daring abduction of a husband from his spouse's arms. The narrative then abruptly shifts to seventeen years later, where Toast (played by the versatile River L. Ramirez) gracefully visits Jeff, bearing the news of their impending union. Jeff's clumsy attempts to navigate the revelation that Toast is marrying a woman underscore the delicacy of the moment, while Toast tactfully adds that a certain individual, Melf, won't be gracing their wedding day.
Just as the air hangs heavy with intrigue, Melf enters, laden with groceries, and Jeff steps outside to assist, inadvertently leaving the stage for a playful exchange between Melf and Toast over cookies and spaghetti. Here, I've deliberately refrained from assuming Melf's gender, respecting the ambiguity inherent in the character and the actor's choice to employ they/them pronouns. The distinction between the persona and the performer adds a layer of depth to the narrative.
Moreover, the brief encounter with Melf in the opening episode of 'Fantasmas' is absurdly packed with narrative twists, akin to Julio racing through the series' highlights in a fleeting car ride with Chester. Yet, amidst this madcap energy, the sequence subtly interrogates gender roles and expectations. It's not a thesis statement carved in stone but rather a playful exploration, embodying the essence of 'Fantasmas'—a show that thrives in the realm of imagination and experimentation.
Further delving into gender dynamics, Amina's (portrayed by the captivating Eudora Peterson) narrative arc in Episode 1 introduces another thought-provoking layer. As a schoolteacher, she finds herself in the Boys' bathroom after hours, her gaze inadvertently lingering on a graffiti of a penis—a depiction that seems to convey a sense of shame and retreat. This enigmatic image haunts her, posing questions that linger: Who was the artist behind this secretive sketch, and what untold story does it hold?
The revelation unfolds in the guise of a bullying figure named Michael, embodied by Jeter Rivera, who, in a moment of raw honesty and vulnerability, confides in Amina that his jerkish demeanor is a façade he wears to be noticed, rather than a true reflection of his character. Despite this confession, she embraces him, only to have the tender moment shattered as his peers take notice, prompting him to abruptly shove her away, hurling an insult, and then physically displacing another student to the ground. This sequence, at first glance, might seem like a cliched illustration of "hurt people hurting others," but Fantasmas deftly deepens the narrative upon Amina's return home.
There, her boyfriend, Bardia Salimi, indulges in petty complaints about their conversation, his insecurity manifesting in Amina's vision as a humiliating caricature of a shriveled penis superimposed over his form, as he lounges on their bed. This encounter prompts us to ponder the fragile constructs of feigned "masculinity," arising from a void of genuine confidence and self-assurance.
Remember, we're not delving into a thesis here; rather, we're immersed in a play of emotions and experiences. Later, as Amina and Julio share a Chester, she innocently inquires about his profession, mirroring her own status as a teacher. Julio's reply, both whimsical and profound, reveals that he simply "Julios." His enigmatic agent, Vanesja (Martine Gutierrez), who Julio playfully describes as a performance artist he hired to act as his "agent," yet has transformed into one in her own right through the years, further explains. Today, Julio lent his expertise as a consultant to Crayola; tomorrow, he might be collaborating with NASA on renaming constellations. His unique perspective on the world serves as a testament to his unconventional and captivating existence.
As we witnessed Julio's captivating session atop the "Cookies and Spaghetti" segment with Crayola, it unfolded into a delightful display of his artistic prowess. He was tasked with embodying facial expressions that mirrored an array of hues, each one striking a remarkable chord of accuracy. Then, he ventured into uncharted territory, proposing the creation of a transparent crayon, asserting that "clear" is indeed a color, ever-present in our surroundings. As he gestured towards a glass of water, the Crayola team found themselves intrigued, yet grappling with a naming dilemma. Julio, ever the innovator, offered "Fantasmas," eliciting a chuckle about its plurality, though the episode's playful subtitle hinted at his defiant stance.
During their ride, Julio imparted another of his quirky insights to Amina, this time centering on the alphabet's eccentricities. He contended that the letter Q was a misfit, prematurely positioned amidst the orderly ranks, belonging instead with the eccentric crew of X, Y, and Z. Our imagination soared as we witnessed an extended fantasy where Q, embodied by Steve Buscemi, struggled as a struggling musician, contemplating a sellout to become an O. As X, Y, and Z soared to fame, Q's despair deepened, until a heartwarming intervention from Z (Evan Mock), acknowledging Q's indispensable role as a trailblazer, restored his spirit.
I found myself oddly swayed by Julio's logic; his argument that Q indeed belonged further down the alphabet's line, among its eccentric compatriots, resonated deeply. It's a peculiar conviction, yet one that speaks to the whimsy and charm that permeates every moment of this enchanting narrative.
The inaugural episode of "Fantasmas" is a delightful blend of quirkiness, surrealism, humor, and sheer entertainment—a potpourri of emotions that seamlessly intertwine, captivating me with its unparalleled style above all else. Julio's fate looms, with the possibility of eviction looming large and the prospect of acquiring that dreaded Proof of Existence looming even larger, yet I fervently hope this doesn't transpire. Regardless, I yearn for Julio to continue being Julio—a testament to resilience and optimism. It feels rejuvenating, instilling a sense of hope that transcends the realm of mere fantasy. In the realm of "Fantasmas," such aspirations are not merely pipe dreams but the very fabric of its enchanting narrative.
