‘Thistle’: Santa Ana Rujas | Television | The USA Print

The second seasons are not usually good, like the second parts of the movies. The more unpredictable and original a series is, the more difficult it is to keep it on the air without the set-up collapsing or interest waning and the story moving along by inertia, like one of those married couples sleeping in separate beds. Anyone who has tried to write a long story knows that the easy thing is to start it and the difficult thing is to continue it. That is why open endings were invented, to save the honor of the narrators who get lost in the forests that they themselves planted.

The first season of Thistle It was a straight in the jaw with a closed ending. Not only was it okay to leave the story there, but it seemed impossible to continue it. For this reason, the three episodes of the second season that I have seen (today the fourth is posted on Atresplayer) have made me a devotee of the anarchism. I break my head in front of the talent of Ana Rujas, who tells us a story of loneliness and redemption like we have never seen before, with a freedom and an absolute lack of complacency towards the viewer, who she leads by the hand —sometimes, sometimes trails—by certainly uncomfortable andurrials that are beyond the kitschfrom jail and from Carabanchel.

Rujas and her partner, Claudia Costafreda, are authentic and postmodern, extremely local and universal, comical and tragic. They say out there that the series portrays the generation born in the 1990s. I think it only portrays itself and its characters, the anguish of that María recently released from prison and talks to a neo-baroque Christianity that does not It seems like nothing, just those verses by Teresa de Jesús to which she entrusts herself as we give ourselves to Santa Ana Rujas.

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