Netflix’s Superestar: An Audacious Autopsy of a Media Phenomenon

At the turn of the 21st century, Spanish television was hijacked by a cultural phenomenon as inexplicable as it was captivating: ‘Tamarismo’. For a few chaotic years, the laws of fame were rewritten by a bizarre constellation of personalities who, until then, seemed destined for ridicule but instead achieved a strange and powerful stardom. At the center of this vortex was Tamara, an aspiring singer who became a national obsession. The new Netflix series Superestar is not a nostalgic look back, but a surreal and complex deconstruction of that era. Created by Nacho Vigalondo and produced by Javier Calvo and Javier Ambrossi, the series is a deliberate “reimagining” of a singular cultural moment, rejecting the conventions of a standard biopic to explore the heart of its protagonists.

A Fantasia of Truth

From the outset, the creators’ mission was to avoid a conventional narrative. The producers tasked Vigalondo with creating something radical, and he responded by filtering the story through the lens of genre fiction. The six-episode miniseries is described as a dramedy and a magical story filled with esoteric conspiracies, eternal nights, and multicolored supervillains. Vigalondo employs fantasy, science fiction, and magical realism not as escapism, but as a tool to access a deeper emotional and psychological truth. This approach is a direct response to the media of the time, which presented a supposed “reality” that was often a highly constructed and cruel fiction. Superestar flips this dynamic; its overt fantasy becomes a vehicle for poetic justice. The series adopts a structure akin to Black Mirror, where each episode is a self-contained world dedicated to a different key figure in Tamara’s orbit, giving each their own “feature film”. This stylistic rebellion is also an ethical one, an attempt to dismantle the “cultural classism” that denigrated these figures by using a visual language—from kitsch, acid-soaked music video aesthetics to references to directors like David Lynch—that is as unconventional as its subjects. The result is a narrative that has much in common with the Spanish literary tradition of “esperpento,” which uses the grotesque and absurd to critique society.

Superestar

The Court of Miracles on Prime Time

The series meticulously resurrects the media ecosystem that birthed “Tamarismo.” It was an era dominated by “telebasura” (trash TV), with late-night talk shows like Crónicas Marcianas and Tómbola serving as both kingmakers and executioners. These ratings juggernauts thrived on sensationalism and public interrogations, creating a fertile ground for personalities who were simultaneously celebrated and condemned. Superestar introduces its ensemble cast as products of this “televisual cannibalism”. Ingrid García-Jonsson plays Tamara, the outsider who became a gay icon and disco diva while navigating public ridicule and a shifting identity that saw her adopt the names Ámbar and, later, Yurena. At her side is her fiercely protective mother, Margarita Seisdedos, portrayed by Rocío Ibáñez as a formidable force and a legend in her own right, famous for carrying a brick in her handbag. Their bond is framed as the story’s central love story. The wider universe includes Secun de la Rosa as Leonardo Dantés, the ambitious composer and showman depicted as a complex “Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde” figure; Carlos Areces as Paco Porras, the celebrity clairvoyant known for his unique method of divining the future through fruits and vegetables; Natalia de Molina as rival singer Loly Álvarez; Pepón Nieto as media personality Tony Genil; and Julián Villagrán as Tamara’s manager, Arlekín. The series portrays this group as a symbiotic ecosystem where fame was codependent, their public feuds and alliances creating a self-perpetuating narrative that prefigured modern reality television.

An Exercise in Empathy

Beyond the stylistic flourishes, the series is anchored by a profound sense of empathy for its subjects. The performances are presented not as imitations, but as acts of humanization. Ingrid García-Jonsson has spoken of the immense responsibility she felt to portray Yurena with respect and affection, aiming to make her feel “valued as a person” after years of public mistreatment. Her goal was to avoid caricature and dehumanization, a mission validated by the real Yurena, who, upon seeing the series, called it a form of “therapy” and “justice”. This meta-narrative of reparation elevates the project beyond mere entertainment. The entire ensemble works to capture the spirit of these larger-than-life figures without descending into parody. Carlos Areces, for instance, immersed himself in hours of footage to replicate specific moments of Paco Porras’s television appearances.

A Radical Act of Love

Superestar is an audacious, complex, and artistically ambitious work that will likely polarize audiences with its experimental nature. It is both a scathing critique of a toxic media culture and a “love letter to those trapped in its machinery”. The series transcends nostalgia to offer a cultural analysis, challenging viewers to re-examine a period they may have dismissed. It has been described as a “radical act of love for the fascinating,” one that uses fantasy as a vehicle for reality. Ultimately, Superestar is more than the story of one woman; it is a portrait of Spain at a chaotic, transitional moment—a story that reveals uncomfortable but essential truths about celebrity, media, and cultural memory.

The six-episode series Superestar premiered on Netflix on July 18.