Numerous recent series, such as ‘Fleabag’ or ‘Cardo’, have in recent years told the tragicomedy of being thirty years old in the 21st century. ‘Many people have to die’ is one of them, but it has something special. That something is the intelligent script by Victoria Martín, who adapts her novel of the same name for Movistar+, building a story about three friends whose relationship begins to crack when adult life proves to be nothing like what they had imagined.
Bárbara (Anna Castillo), Maca (Laura Weissmahr) and Elena (Macarena García) are three childhood friends who, now in their thirties, seem like girls trapped in adult bodies. Bárbara suffers from depression, she is addicted to pills and no one values her work as a screenwriter; Maca fails to make her way as an actress and survives by working as a waitress; and a very pregnant Elena appears to lead a perfect life while, inside, she is a real human wreck. Married to a man thirty years older than her, she is not even sure that she wants to be a mother when she is about to give birth.
The series navigates a fine line between traditional humor, cynical comedy and an almost surreal caricature, especially through the exaggerated – and almost implausible – character of Elena, capable of changing personality like someone pressing a button.
However, the series never loses touch with reality thanks to the subtlety of the script, both in the dialogue and in its portrait of the labor and emotional precariousness of an entire generation. The moment when Elena holds her newborn baby and Bárbara asks if it is really hers is a brilliant portrait of the dissociation caused by depression, and one of the many moments in which Martín demonstrates an enormous ability to observe everyday life.
In fact, Bárbara’s depression ends up becoming almost the fourth character in ‘Many people have to die’, and there we must praise the work of Sofía Otero interpreting the darker voice of her protagonist. The girl accompanies Barbara everywhere to remind her of her worst fears and confirm all her insecurities. Bárbara’s great challenge will not be to make it disappear, but to learn not to believe it. The give and take between the two generates some of the most hilarious moments of the series, but also some of the most touching, especially during their final confrontation.
With this character, Martín achieves an unusual feat: creating extremely dark humor without anyone really getting hurt. We all have terrible thoughts about others, but they tend to stay in our heads. ‘Many people have to die’ gives them body and voice, and precisely because they remain in the realm of thought they can allow themselves to go much further than other comedies. The result is sharp, cruel humor that never betrays the humanity of its characters.
There are many comical discoveries that make one laugh throughout these six half-hour chapters. Elena’s constant taunts towards her husband about their age difference are hilarious; Maca works precisely because it never tries to break the stereotype of the lesbian, but rather inhabits it with absolute naturalness; and Barbara turns her depression into an inexhaustible source of memorable outbursts.
Each of the three protagonists is complex separately, but together they build a very vivid portrait of a generation that has reached thirty without really feeling adult. Being 30 was this, really?
Through scenes such as those from the program ‘Menudo lío’ or the delirious retreat with the ladies of the commune, Victoria Martín gradually dismantles her characters’ defenses until leaving them completely exposed. The story does not finish closing – perhaps because it trusts the viewer to fill in the gaps, perhaps because it is crying out for a second season – but it does leave the feeling of having found one’s own voice within a genre that is beginning to be very busy.
