36 The Nation. October 28/November 4, 2019
T
here was no better way to introduce
Los Espookys—the band of horror
aficionados at the center of the new
HBO series of the same name—than
with a spooky quinceañera.
In the show’s first scene, the group’s
de facto leader, Renaldo (played by the
endlessly charismatic Bernardo Velasco),
has recruited his friends, who are skilled
as makeup artists and production design-
ers, to help decorate his little sister’s 15th
birthday party. Quinceañera festivities are
usually marked by pink dresses as full and
fluffy as the frosting on a cupcake. But Los
Espookys have morphed the celebration
into a ghoulish get-together complete with
smoke machines, desserts that ooze blood,
and a dramatic, raven-colored ball gown
fit for an evil Disney queen. The gleeful
spectacle of it all underscores the absurdity
of a ritual centered on young girls trans-
mogrifying into women before a roomful
of guests, and it’s a clever and satirical wink
at a fusty tradition.
The quinceañera is so successful that
the local priest, Father Francisco, en-
lists Renaldo and his friends for another
event. The offbeat crew includes stony-
faced dental hygienist Úrsula (Cassandra
Ciangherotti), pixie-like space cadet Tati
(Brooklyn-based stand-up comic Ana Fab-
rega), and sulky, sapphire-haired rich kid
Andrés (Saturday Night Live writer Julio
Torres), who is heir to a massive chocolate
corporation. A clique of Latinx misfits
putting on scary events is an enticingly
ridiculous premise, in line with the past
work of executive producer Fred Armisen,
the former SNL regular and co-creator of
Portlandia, who created Los Espookys with
Torres and Fabrega. Initially, Armisen and
his compatriots were looking to land the
mostly Spanish-language show on HBO
Latino. However, executives at the net-
work picked up the series for their mainHIGH JINKS
The wild imagination of Los Espookys
by JULYSSA LOPEZ
Julyssa Lopez writes frequently on culture and
music for The Nation.
channel without compromising the lan-
guage, with English subtitles for viewers
who don’t speak Spanish, and Los Espookys
premiered this June.
Throughout its six episodes, the series
delights in oddball humor with a touch of
the supernatural. The story arcs are enter-
taining in all of their wacky (if occasionally
frivolous) bizarreness. However, when the
show strikes a deeper vein, it does so with
quiet nuance, capturing certain subtleties
of Latin American culture, particularly
its affection for the morbid, for magical
realism, and for all things espooky. While in
some instances the show’s interest in hor-
ror and surrealism is used to explore deeper
cultural anxieties like queer identity and
the othering of Latinx people, Los Espookys
is as interested in silliness as it is in social
commentary. The comedy stems from the
wit and precision of the writing as well as
the deadpan delivery of nearly every actor
on the show.A
t first, the horror that Renaldo, Úr-
sula, Andrés, and Tati enjoy seems
more of the craft store variety.
The job from Father Francesco—
he wants to fake an exorcism to
outshine a younger priest who has won
the affection of his parish—is heavy on
costumery and special effects. The group
executes his vision by lathering up Tati in
green paint and having her spew pink vom-
it. Mira Esto, a news show in their unnamed
city, is there to record the whole thing,
after Los Espookys capture the attention
of the program’s host by arranging the de-
livery of a fake severed head to her. While
props and DIY tricks are major parts of the
series, an eerie mystical energy also lurks
in the world of these four friends. Andrés
convenes meetings with a long-lashed wa-
ter demon who lives inside him and holds
the key to his mysterious childhood. At
one point he watches his boyfriend doing
crunches through the use of a magic amu-
let that he wears over decadent robes and
ruffled shirts that are part David Bowie and
part Walter Mercado, the famous Puerto
Rican astrologist who appeared for decades
on Univision. When Tati offers a list of
all the roles and jobs she can do for Los
Espookys, she casually shares the infor-
mation that the crew can light her on fire
if they want. Úrsula chimes in dryly, “Tati
is indestructible.” Most satisfying of all, no
one explains this paranormal side of things;
it is just a part of everyday life.
People familiar with Latin American
culture’s superstitions will appreciate these HBO / JENNIFER CLASEN