It’s been a while since I’ve seen a series as poorly written as Pact of Silence. I did not remember a fiction in which everything, absolutely everything, was stated or underlined by the dialogues of its characters, who at times seem like they are going to address the camera directly to, from a post-postmodern position, propose a double artifice. This, which could turn this Mexican Netflix series into a nice self-aware artifact, does not happen.
In Pact of Silence, when a character says things it is because the series believes that, if not, the viewer will be lost. “Hey, I’m not stupid,” I said out loud to the screen. I was watching the series on my iPad, on an AVE journey. If Pact of Silence were the meta-series that I wanted, that scene would be part of the script. But this creation apparently without scriptwriters (you have to look for their names in the end credits) is neither The Orchid Thief nor Fleabag. Just citing those two masterpieces in this text gives me hives. Excuse me Susan Orlean, Charlie Kaufman and Phoebe Waller-Bridge.
In Pact of Silence, an influencer (Camila Valero) plots revenge against her own mother, who abandoned her as a newborn. But her mother could be any of the four friends who, at school, hid the pregnancy of one of them. The viewer knows (or thinks he knows) who Brenda’s mother is, but that doesn’t matter. The plot twists of the series (you know: the oyoyoyoyoy effect) are either talked about before they happen or explained afterwards, lest we be stupid and/or pay more attention to the drinks cart on the train than to the series on our tablet.
Being insulted by Netflix like that is, however, strangely relaxing. The main message one receives from Pact of Silence is that you will not have to hit the stop button if you want to get up for a moment to go to the bathroom. When you come back, the series will find a way to tell you what just happened. Also what will happen afterwards, lest you need a new visit to the toilet. Netflix cares about your intestinal transit.
The content on that platform that has a structure of that, intestinal transit, is becoming more and more common. Food boluses in the form of a series that travel through its plot-tract with the carelessness of a dish rich in fiber. Sex/life, Who is Erin Carter?, Obsession or Gypsy have passed through the ‘Top 10 most watched series’ section on Netflix and then fell into oblivion. Or in the cup. Next to them, bimbos like Valeria shine as if they were Women’s Weapons and Sex in the City at the same time. Pact of silence is the audiovisual equivalent of olestra, that substitute for dietary fats that, in theory, offers tastyness without calories. It promises instant pleasure to the palate but is neither fattening nor nourishing. That’s the theory. The reality is that it is like eating Vaseline. Pact of silence is like eating lip gloss. Or how to relax to lose weight.
