Paloma Rando already celebrated in this same place how good she was Eric (Netflix), and I agree with your recommendation. I have enjoyed this disturbing and daring series in which Benedict Cumberbatch shines in a borderline role, and an impeccable Gaby Hoffmann, who transmits infinite exhaustion in half a gesture. The work has many juicy aspects to sink one’s analytical teeth into, but I want to stay with a tangential impression. More than an impression, an uncomfortable itch.
Eric It takes place in 1985 in a New York in tatters, and the protagonist is a puppeteer inspired by Jim Henson, creator of a program emulating Sesame Street. We can anticipate the premise from the credits: this world of fantasy and candor hides a sewer that swallows up children. It is enough to scratch a little to reveal addiction, perversion and pure evil.
This premise is so assimilated by the audience of 2024 that the series does not even present it with intrigue. The plot does not disabuse the viewer, it does not say: sit back and wait, you will not believe the filth under the dolls. The viewer already knows, he is just curious to know what kind of filth it is: sexual filth? Sexist filth? Homophobic filth? Without spoiling anything, in Eric there is a tutifruti of all those filths, to use an expression from the eighties.
Not long ago, the Yo fui a EGB phenomenon capitalized on the nostalgia of the generation X (adults, with their mortgage paid off and eager to spend a lot of money on Olé, olé and Tino Casal junk, and thus relive their youth, albeit with original luxury editions, instead of re-recorded TDK cassette tapes), but the pendulum is now in the other direction, thanks, among others, to Bill Cosby. Boasting about having gone to EGB instills suspicion in young people. To EGB, you say? Did you go to EGB? bullyingyou bought heroin at the candy stand, you beat up homosexuals and you raped your friends?
I would say that the truth is closer to this apocalyptic vision than to the previous nostalgia: we children of the eighties already joked about the flour that covered Chema’s apron in Sesame Streetassuming it was another substance that made him very talkative and enthusiastic. Both images are false. That the dark version prevails today speaks more of today’s fears than of yesterday’s traumas. Eric It is also an unconscious reproach: look how barbaric you were, people of the eighties.
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