‘Griselda’ Episode 4 Recap: The Big Payback

You can forget just how effective the basic building blocks of gangster cinema can be until you get whacked over the head with one of them. Case in point: The end of “Middle Management,” the seemingly pivotal fourth episode of Griselda on Netflix. It seems Griselda has everything she wanted: the control of Miami, the death of her enemies, and the sincere respect of her rival turned partner, mega-narco Fabio Ochoa (Christian Gnecco-Quintero). He’s not just giving her coke, he’s buying the vision, her whole deal as a woman smart and ruthless enough to outfox and outfight the biggest players in a man’s game. Sure, they’ve had their differences in the past, but that’s nothing the sudden cold-blooded execution of her consigliere and friend Arturo right in front of her won’t settle up.

I don’t know about you, but I audibly gasped. Like I said, sometimes you forget why this crime stuff pulls you in so much until you really feel the hook sink in. Competence is an underrated quality, and the Narcos team are nothing if not rock-solid technicians of gun-toting, explosive-planting, machete-wielding tension, action, and shock. From that first massacre in that first season, these guys came to play. Just became the vibe is different here on Griselda doesn’t change any of that.

The vibe does remain different, by the way. (I assume much of the credit goes to co-creator and co-writer Ingrid Escajeda, who’s the new blood on the team and who comes from the splendid Silo.) That fairy-tale feeling becomes more evident than ever in this episode, as Griselda becomes the Wendy to an army of Lost Boys — the Marielitos, young Cuban refugees (many of whom had been convicted of minor criminal offenses back home) who came over by sea and are looked down upon by basically everybody in Miami. Griselda can relate, she says, since she gets treated like shit as a matter of course due to her gender. (Seriously, someone should count how many times various druglords call her a bitch over the course of these six episodes.)

Rallying them around the empty pool of her new mansion fortress at the magic hour, she delivers a speech straight out of Braveheart, once again soundtracked by composer Carlos Rafael Rivera’s Barry Lyndon “Sarabande” riff. But is she the exiled princess overthrowing the evil overlord, or the wicked queen rising to power in his place? Is she the Fairy Godmother these guys believe her to be, or the Don Corleone–style Godmother Dario worries she’ll become if this keeps up?

It’s not rocket surgery to figure out the answer to those questions — we know how this kind of story goes. But who cares? The point is the pleasures you get along the way. And the tit-for-tat executions Griselda and her Marielitos exchange with the Ochoa organization and its frontman Papo Mejia are a gruesome, nasty, shocking good time. German, Griselda’s Judas of a supplier, gets gunned down in a convenience store. Papo escapes an explosion that kills his dad, has Griselda’s friend Isa beheaded along with her chief Marielito and another working girl (played by pop star Karol G), and eventually gets chopped to death by the slain Cuban’s vengeful cousin on Griselda’s behalf — in front of hundreds of witnesses in the middle of a crowded airport, no less. 

In short, Griselda is raising her banners. From allowing herself to be seen when she executes Papo’s headman to having her henchman kill Papo in public, she wants everyone to know there’s a new queen rising in the realm. I mean, there’s even a mystical sword of alliance — a gold blade gifted by Griselda to her rival, Ochoa frontman Rafa Salazar, as a token of peace. 

The blue-and-gold color scheme that has dominated the show until now shifts according to Griselda’s new status. Ensconced in her mansion, surrounded by a jungle of palms, her scenes are now dominated by forest green. The color suggests a newfound, implacable confidence and strength. She is now a force of nature.

Director Andrés Baiz at no point loses sight of the fact that he’s pointing his camera at Sofía Vergara. Slight prosthetics notwithstanding, she’s a stunning actor, and we’re reminded of this constantly when she’s here at her moment of triumph (at least until the last minute or so). Reclining on a sofa, luxuriating in a bath with an enormous classical nude behind her, out in the twilight tracing the orange cherry of her cigarette through the blue of the night air…It’s kind of like how you could tell how much everyone who directed Mad Men loved shooting Jon Hamm. In this role, Vergara is a person you just don’t get tired of looking at.

Baiz also gets a lot out of the fascinating presence of Martín Rodríguez as Rivi, Griselda’s newfound intelligence source and not-so-secret admirer. Calling her from the desert, where he’s been taking peyote on a daily basis, he talks about the cyclical nature of time — but in a kind of meditative Wheel of Time way, not a Rust Cohle “time is a flat circle” way. He says only very few can break the cycle, clearly implying she’s such a person, and as such she should settle the war by force rather than by truce. He does this while letting a scorpion crawl across his hand and looking dead sexy doing it. (Sexy sicarios are a staple of the genre. I personally don’t have a problem with it.)

Fun, effective, sexy, bloody, sometimes surprising, frequently lovely and thoughtful stuff, with Vergara’s formidable performance at its heart. Long live the queen — at least for the final two episodes.

Sean T. Collins (@theseantcollins) writes about TV for Rolling Stone, Vulture, The New York Times, and anyplace that will have him, really. He and his family live on Long Island.