In the captivating fifth episode of "Fantasmas" Season 1, Julio (portrayed by Julio Torres) finally succumbs to the relentless persuasion of Vanesja (Martine Gutierrez) and steps into the spotlight for the credit card commercial she's been vigorously pursuing. Dressed in a vibrant rainbow suit adorned with a sombrero, Julio stands before the camera, yet despite the director's (Tommy Dorfman) earnest attempts to coax a smile from him, his lips remain stubbornly unyielding. In a creative workaround, the crew resorts to affixing a strip of green tape across his mouth, allowing them to digitally implant a smile of the director's choosing from a tablet's array of options. Later, as the ad graces a bus stop, it becomes evident that the alterations extend far beyond just the smile, transforming Julio's entire visage. Vanesja's candid assessment shatters Julio's hopes of securing the coveted Proof of Existence exemption.
As Vanesja stands near that fateful bus stop, she's unexpectedly hailed by her (former?) art professor (played by the esteemed Amy Sedaris), who, in a moment of familiarity, momentarily reverts to calling her Martine, only to be gently reminded of the artist's newfound identity as Vanesja for her groundbreaking performance art thesis. This Martine, of course, is the very actress portraying Vanesja, her true name a subtle yet significant detail.
The professor's inquiry delves into the possibility that Martine/Vanesja is prolonging her performance art persona as a means of evading the constraints of an art degree that might hinder her quest for a Proof of Existence. Rumors also swirl that she's now ventured into the world of talent agency. Regardless, Sedaris's character imparts a profound lesson, reminding her protégée that the essence of art lies in its ability to reframe perspectives and inspire fresh ways of seeing.
This poignant exchange resonates deeply with Vanesja, perhaps echoing the sentiments shared earlier by Dustin (Dylan O'Brien), a seasoned veteran of "Cunty Little Rich Kids" for a remarkable 15 seasons. Amidst his material comforts, Dustin grapples with a sense of disillusionment, fearing he's lost touch with the real world. He believes the true purpose of artistry is to contribute positively to society, a mission he feels he's fallen short of. In a moment of frustration, he labels Vanesja as a mere suit, uncomprehending of the artist's calling.
Is Dustin an artist, and Vanesja too? She embodies the role of an agent so convincingly that it's difficult to discern whether it's a mere performance or the real deal, leaving one to ponder the audience of this enigmatic performance art. "The Little Ones" unfolds amidst the bustling New York City subway, where a recurring joke delights, mocking the excruciating waits for trains, as if anyone could fathom a 178-minute hiatus for an F train, though a 248-minute L train delay? Not implausible. The G train delay, though plausible, would geographically diverge from the narrative's tapestry.
Episode 5 of "Fantasmas," titled aptly, revolves around a pivotal conversation between Derrrick (portrayed by Michael Graceffa) and Boy Radio, the latter's character shrouded in anonymity, prompting me to imagine he's embodying himself. Boy Radio finds himself cohabiting with an army of "little ones," diminutive creatures reminiscent of Smurfs, their numbers inexplicably swelling. Their proliferation is not sexual in nature, mind you; some even embrace homosexuality. Their obsession transcends pizza consumption; they revel in photographing it, and a visit to the Metropolitan Museum of Art is deemed sacrilegious by their unconventional creed.
Boy Radio's discontent with this surreal arrangement simmers, particularly when he discovers that his recent houseguest, Diego (Juanes Montoya), has formed connections with some of his pint-sized roommates. Despite his attempts to establish boundaries, as fleetingly glimpsed in a flashback, Boy Radio's efforts proved futile. Upon encountering Diego in the subway, Derrrick and Boy Radio decide to abandon the platform's madding crowds for the sanctuary of a taxi, leaving behind the eccentricities of their tiny cohabitants and the enigmatic underworld of "Fantasmas."
Back at Derrrick's abode, a congregation has gathered eagerly around the screen, anticipating the unveiling of 'The True Women of New York.' Among this eclectic mix stands Trish (portrayed by Ana Fabrega), her attention splintered between the unfolding drama and the allure of her smartphone. Craftily, she's posed as her own manager, 'Emily,' commissioning a piece of adoring fan art from Luis (embodied by Jordan Mendoza). This masterpiece finds its way onto a dedicated Trish fan page, meticulously curated by none other than Trish herself.
Under the guise of charity, Trish spun a web of deceit, only for Luis to unravel it when he innocently inquired about recognition for his work on the very post showcasing it. Through the veil of 'Emily,' Trish coldly dismissed his request, igniting a firestorm of revelation.
Luis, swift in his realization, unleashed a flurry of accusations on Instagram, exposing Trish's duplicity. Others, sensing the scent of scandal, joined the chorus, forcing Trish into a panic-stricken spiral. Desperate, she turns to Derrrick for solace, the two retreating to the sanctity of the bathroom.
As Trish spills the beans, Derrrick's amusement morphs into a biting mockery. How could she, a mere mortal without the trappings of fame, resort to commissioning fan art about herself? "I'm finished," Derrrick laments, his tone dripping with disbelief. "I'm absolutely, positively, friggin' dead!" And with that, Trish's frustration boils over, her hands landing with a resounding thud on Derrrick's head, smacking it against the sink's hard edge.
In that moment, I fear the worst. Derrrick, with his name echoing thrice in sorrow, may have indeed met his untimely demise. RIP, Derrrick, thrice the 'R' for the reverberations of this unexpected tragedy.
Julio's anxiety persists, haunting him with the possibility that the mole on his neck could be a sinister sign of cancer. Seeking solace, he turns to a web app, where his virtual consultation with Dr. Sandy Honig offers fleeting reassurance. Yet, amidst the hustle of a subway station, Dr. Honig's attention slips, inadvertently pressing the wrong button. She brushes it off lightly, deeming a biopsy a mere formality, but my heart skipped a beat as Julio, unfazed, prepared to administer the procedure himself. Miraculously, it passes without incident, leaving him with a mere bandage as a token of his bravery.
Deeper beneath the surface, it's Julio's underlying fear of mortality that propels him back to the enigmatic realm of Incorporeal. His eyes light up upon spotting a model ship, adorned with a trio of diamond oyster earrings—a poignant reminder of the one he once lost. Oscar (Ikechukwu Ufomadu), with a mischievous glint, informs him that the vessel would be a treasure beyond measure, were it not for the missing oyster's diminishing value. Here lies the key: if Julio can reclaim that elusive gem, Incorporeal promises to digitize his consciousness, bypassing the need for a Proof of Existence.
Emboldened by this revelation, Julio dives into the depths of the internet, casting a wide net for methods to retrieve something minute from the ocean's floor. But his search yields a daunting conclusion—an insurmountable task, his phone declares. This setback seems to dampen his spirits, momentarily extinguishing the flicker of hope. Yet, as we approach the climactic season finale next week, the question lingers: Will Julio's determination be enough to overcome even the impossible, or will the ocean's secrets remain forever beyond his reach?
As the credit card advertisement failed miserably to secure Julio's elusive Proof of Existence exemption, Vanesja fervently pressed him to pitch an idea to Zappos—a company, I surmise, that dabbles in fantastical films and television series within the realm of Fantasmas (incidentally, I ought to delve into how this series so deftly incorporates real-life brands in unconventional manners, surely with their blessings).
Thus, Julio reluctantly arranged a meeting with Susanna (played by the captivating Natasha Lyonne), who, much to his dismay, couldn't have cared less about his reimagining of The Lion King, centering around a zebra's rebellion against the pride. She bluntly informed Julio that they both knew the score: he sought a mere slip of paper to avert the need for another, while they craved something else entirely.
"Give us your pain," she urged, with a hint of playfulness. "Wrap it in humor, and if you please, sprinkle it with español."
With a heavy heart, Julio reluctantly unveiled an idea he had fervently hoped to keep buried: a script titled How I Came Out to My Abuela. Susanna's eyes lit up, finger-guns blazing, as she exclaimed, "That's a show!" But the glimmer in her eyes belied the fact that this was hardly the project Julio's heart yearned to create.
It seemed Julio faced an ultimatum: either this heartfelt tale or a perilous sea voyage in pursuit of a lost earring, destined to climax in the season finale. My money's on the latter—will Julio discover the elusive oyster, transforming into an ethereal being? Will he finally grasp the exception he so desires? Or will he succumb and obtain the Proof of Existence? With the specter of eviction looming and the specter of melanoma hovering, Fantasmas has plenty of loose threads to tie up as it draws Season 1 to a close. And if Bibo's (portrayed by Joe Rumrill) unexpected acting aspirations somehow intertwine with this climactic narrative, it's a twist I must not overlook.
