Would a 'True Detective' work but with the Civil Guard?

Based on the novel of the same name by Sergio Sarria, When no one comes to us It presents itself as another of those crime series that strives to stand out due to its geographical context and the more sober tone of its premise. We find ourselves in Morón de la Frontera, a town in Seville known for Holy Week and for the air base that still serves as infrastructure for the United States Air Force. These customs and locations lend a unique character to the plot.

The first episode of this Max production begins with the hara-kiri committed by one of the town's inhabitants, a well-known martial arts teacher and enthusiast of Japanese culture. Added to this strange death is the disappearance of a soldier from the air base and that of a young local man. In addition, some participants in the Holy Week processions experience delusions and aggressive behavior, possibly due to the effects of a new drug. All these mysteries will be solved by Civil Guard Sergeant Lucía Gutiérrez (Maribel Verdú), with the help of a US Army agent, Magaly Castillo (Mariela Garriga).

The series puts two women at the head of an investigation with multiple branches. Procedures led by female figures are by no means a novelty. But here this change in the usual roles is emphasized: they investigate a case in which the victims are (in principle) only men, in a plot that ends up exploring the repression of non-hegemonic masculinities in traditional environments such as the army or Catholic societies.

Created by Daniel Corpas, one of the attractions at first sight of When no one comes to us is that the firm Enrique Urbizu, the director responsible for invigorating the thriller Spanish from the turn of the century with titles such as Box 507 (2002) and Life stains (2003). As the episodes progress and the plot becomes imbued with tragic fatalism, it becomes clear why the Basque filmmaker was interested in the proposal. As is his trademark, the series moves at a leisurely pace. But here there is a noticeable heaviness due to the fact that Urbizu seems to have lost the impeccable pulse he once displayed. This lack of spirit is even reflected in the characters. Verdú is an excellent actress who here adopts a register similar to that of Helena Miquel in There will be no peace for the wicked, also directed by Urbizu, a rigor that often becomes excessively rigid. Dani Rovira, a civil guard under the protagonist's command, thrives on his restrained acting and demonstrates that he can take on roles that are the polar opposite of those of the current Spanish comedy. That's why we miss his character's charismatic supporting role that he was destined to be. Perhaps not coincidentally, the most powerful episode is the one in which the American characters and performers take center stage, and where much of the mystery is revealed.

Despite taking care to generate a disturbing atmosphere rooted in a specific cultural landscape, When no one comes to us is far from becoming the True Detective Andalusian woman she aspired to be. In the final episodes, moreover, it veers toward the exaltation of the Civil Guard as a security force. While in the American army we find all kinds of characters, from the exemplary to the corrupt, all members of the Civil Guard demonstrate exemplary and efficient behavior. Anything for the sake of fiction.