“When forced to pick between truth and legend, print the legend”. Allegedly, Tony Wilson said that, and it’s perpetuated, no, ingrained, into popular culture because of 24 Hour Party People, an anti-biography (!) from 2002, directed by Michael Winterbottom. Serving as both a chronicle of the Madchester scene and a critical assessment of Tony Wilson‘s persona, it relishes on lying to the audience for the sake of entertainment, while being honest about it. “I’m being postmodern. Before it was fashionable”, declares Tony Wilson, via Steve Coogan at his most Alan Partridge, whilst breaking the fourth wall. It’s cheeky, but also honest. He even acknowledges that he wasn’t neither a loyal husband nor a good father.

I find no such honesty in Sin querer queriendo, an eight episode miniseries on HBO that summarises Roberto Gómez Bolaños show, Chespirito, and the toll fame took on his personal life. Well, that was the intention. In reality, it suffers from a conflicted nature: his embellished autobiography, Sin querer queriendo, published in 2012, and the wealth of information and testimonials knocking about, all marring his persona.

That itself presents a problem: autobiographies seldom paint a whole picture, and in his case -I had to read it for this review- it rarely goes deep into his own faults. They feel glossed over or oddly justified. I understand, with age even the darkest spots glimmer, but I wouldn’t place Gómez Bolaños autobiography in the non-fiction shelf.

The two major flaws that Sin Querer Queriendo commits are cardinal mistakes for a miniseries: spinning its wheels, and showing, not telling. The first three episodes are the ones most troubled by this, and although it improves on form, the inevitable fall into telenovela-style storytelling mangles any historical aspirations the show had.

Sin querer queriendo becomes as formulaic as Chespirito, structured as:

1. Gómez Bolaños is a dreamer and very funny, you guys!
2. He struggles.
3. Time jump to Acapulco, the apparent final level of this quest.
4. Gómez Bolaños writes. Whimsical music tells the audience that he is inspired. We are not shown anything.
5. Strawman in a position of power doubts him.
6. Weird cringey moment re-enacts a mannerism from his characters.
7. Gómez Bolaños somehow manages get the upperhand on Strawman, everyone calling him a genius and funny. This is told to us, the audience, never shown.
8. Episode ends with a cutesy montage over the credits.

That structure repeats itself later, but in a less egregious way, as the path clears towards the well-known infidelity Gómez Bolaños had with the notoriously litigious person whose name I won’t even type. We get the odd glimpse to a sketch or a nicely-composited montage, but it’s all crumbs.

Show, don’t tell. It’s probably a tired criticism by now, but it rears its ugly head through the entire show. We are constantly told Gómez Bolaños is a genius, that his work makes millions of people happy, and all the platitudes you can think of. We’re never shown this, and the smattering of sketch recreations barely support all the praise the characters shower him with. The sobering family drama veers into telenovela territory, and I understand it sells, but it lowers the bar for what could’ve been prime television.

Sin Querer Queriendo‘s faults come to a pinnacle by episode eight. Personal conflicts are hand-waved away. Even if there’s a clear and well-developed dovetailing of his divorce and how his extended tv-family began to unravel, it’s all quickly shushed to the side. No, it was making “people happy” what justifies his actions. It’s so…unseemly. Are we even supposed to sympathize with him? We barely have screentime with his children or his former wife by then.

We hardly see any of the fallout of his messy divorce, and although its hinted that his scripts were getting repetitive, this is also brushed to the side. A cheap, morally confusing montage wants to celebrate his work whilst justifying how terrible of a person Gómez Bolaños was, and we are left with a bitter aftertaste. Was it really worth it? All the praise, all the admiration, all the merch sold…for what?

A second season is supposedly being developed, and much like 2019‘s Un extraño enemigo, I don’t see what’s the plan. Un extraño enemigo narrated the build up toward’s the Tlatelolco Massacre, which happended, weirdly enough, under Gustavo Díaz Ordaz presidency. Díaz Ordaz was Gómez Bolaños uncle, twice removed. Un extraño enemigo‘s second season moved at glacial pace and I’m afraid Sin querer queriendo‘s second will suffer the same fate, as the morbid parts are already accounted for.

Now, for that political part y’all be waiting for: there’s nothing in the show about it. No mention of the Chilean dictatorship ruling when Gómez Bolaños and his troupe visited. No mention of the -alleged- narco-parties he entertained. Nothing about Tlatelolco or Corpus Day Massacre. If something, there’s a slight remark from Angelines Fernandez (played by Andrea Noli) that hints to the horrors she endured as a maquis, the group of people who fought tooth and claw against Francisco Franco‘s brutal regime. Again, a missed opportunity.

I guess it’s fitting that the show will only focus on Gómez Bolaños, and not the trail of people he hurt on his path towards something. Anything. It’s never clear what he wants, and he acts like a total asshole to his wife, Graciela, on repeated occasions. We have to be told -again- that he only wants “millions of people” to laugh. God must be laughing at this plan.

Any positives? Production design goes for the full hog, and the show should be proud about it. Casting is excellent, and even when the cast has to telenovela-their way out of a tricky dialogue situation, they do the best with the material provided. Many a meme has been made about the cringe-inducing “aha!” moments for the traits of his characters, but I think the subtle hints about inspiration from Chaplin are there. I wish the show had focused more on that aspect, how Gómez Bolaños copied and riffed on classic vaudeville material, like Laurel & Hardy, The Three Stooges, Abbott and Costello, and the Marx Brothers. That would’ve made for a better show.

When I was kid, I spent almost every holiday in Tampico Madero. By then, Chespirito was already passé and if it wasn’t a repeat, it was a “new” episode, with jokes and routines rehashed so many times you could see the actors internally screaming at the fusty script. My grandfather wouldn’t let us watch the show, as he said it was a “show for dumb people”. Then again, he religiously watched Benny Hill Show, so what can I say? Sin Querer Queriendo does claw at the morbid curiosity we naturally have for drama, and as a flashy telenovela, it hits the mark. As a biographical show, I’m afraid it’s playing out of its league.

—Sam J. Valdés López