La Máquina Is A Delightful Buddy Comedy With Your Favorite Latine Actor Duo

Estebán “La Máquina” Osuna (played by Gael García Bernal) was once Mexico’s greatest boxer, but after he loses a key fight to a younger boxer, he’s at rock bottom. Struggling with the realities of middle-age and what he can no longer do in the ring, La Máquina is an impressive character. An alcoholic who is trying to stay sober despite the stress of his career, he has decades of fights and addiction under his belt, two kids, an ex-wife, and a burgeoning neurological condition that causes him to hallucinate regularly. In Hulu’s first Spanish-language series La Máquina, Osuna is helped by his agent Andy (Diego Luna), who has a very serious plastic surgery addiction and spends most of his life maneuvering Osuna’s career to both of their benefits.

This is the first time Luna and Bernal are working together onscreen since their breakthrough roles in Alfonso Cuarón’s 2001 film Y Tú Mamá También, an erotic romp that explores a love triangle as two teenagers take their love interest on a road trip. Y Tú Mamá También is widely known for catapulting Luna and Bernal into international fame, partly because of the chemistry they have with each other. Thankfully, time hasn’t changed this chemistry: I’m happy to report that Luna and Bernal are back — albeit in a very different context. Unfortunately, there’s no sexy scenes in La Máquina, but both actors play off of each other wonderfully and had me laughing out loud several times.

As Osuna goes through a midlife crisis, questioning his past and present, as well as hallucinating about his abusive childhood regularly, Andy is being threatened by a faceless organization he hired years ago to fix Osuna’s fights. He is forced to come clean to Osuna that much of his wrestling career is a fraud. As the pair tries to negotiate with “Otras Personas,” the show becomes about corruption and the darkness of Mexico’s wrestling world. This is great fodder for a drama — and indeed, it makes for very compelling television — but it’s really Luna and Bernal’s banter that makes La Máquina a show worth watching. We’ve all watched wrestling stories about fight fixing and the corruption behind the sport — particularly in Latin America, where American TV producers love to place their corruption-filled storylines — but the duo makes the story hilarious to watch. 

Luna is almost unrecognizable under all the prosthetics that simulate a hyper-botoxed face, which makes acting a bit of a challenge. Still, he manages to deliver some of the funniest lines in the show, mostly when arguing with Bernal. Bernal has really stepped into his gray fox era, using his (extremely handsome) looks to lean into the vexation of his character’s age and past. Luna and Bernal play up their relationship, making the show feel like two old friends who are trying to get out of the trouble they created themselves — while also dealing with their midlife crises — and I’m here for it. 

The show has plenty of serious, dramatic turns, particularly when we follow the character of Irasema, Osuna’s ex-wife who maintains a special connection to the wrestler. Irasema (Eisa González) is an investigative journalist who, concerned by the amount of knockouts that happened in the last decade of wrestling, starts looking into the corruption behind the matches that most likely gave Osuna his trauma-induced hallucinations. Despite everyone’s advice not to dive into this world, Irasema can’t leave the mystery alone.

I really appreciated that a woman character is the conduit to some of the most dramatic turns of the story, leaving the comedic relief to Luna and Bernal. It adds to the playful relationship between the two actors and gives González space to shine. It also unsettles the roles women are usually put into in these kinds of shows — Irasema isn’t relegated to being just Osuna’s wife and the mother of his kids. She’s a journalist who has other interests outside of family and the father of her kids — yes, the bar is low, but I loved to see it.

Stories about wrestlers are so common that they’ve become almost its own genre. I was expecting a darker, even more violent show, but La Máquina really stands out as a series that makes fun of itself. Bringing these two actors together was smart. I hope viewers watch La Máquina for them, but also stay for the unfolding mystery and midlife crisis reflections. 

Most of the characters are Mexican, but there are two Brazilian characters — Osuna’s wrestling enemies — which I really love to see. Apart from this, La Máquina doesn’t have a lot of regional diversity, which makes sense with the story the show is telling. 

The way Luna and Bernal talk to each other is so satisfying to watch. There wasn’t a lot of diversity in language or code-switching (since the whole show is in Spanish), but the dialogue between Osuna and Andy felt very natural and streamlined, which I believe can be credited to the actors who have a seamless relationship with each other. It’s important to note that this is Hulu’s first original show that is fully in Spanish, too – I hope more productions like this take flight.

There was some shade range, but this show is still guilty of centering white Mexicans as the main characters. This isn’t surprising, but I wish Spanish-language productions would try harder to include diverse characters in their stories.

I loved how unafraid Irasema is as she investigates a subject that puts her life at risk. This differed from the usual ways wives of wrestlers are portrayed in these kinds of stories. However, there were no queer or trans characters that were featured.

I really enjoyed how La Máquina doesn’t take itself too seriously. It’s really tiring to watch TV shows that portray Latin American countries as inherently corrupt, but the way the show frames it as a buddy comedy really subverts the genre. Yes, what a corrupt world — but it’s also kind of these two doofuses' fault. 

La Máquina had me laughing out loud several times. I think it’s really incredible to have these two actors work together again in a narrative that explores the passage of time and the fickleness of professional success. It feels kind of meta.