After waiting for what felt like ages, i finally set aside some time this past Friday to watch Netflix’s new adaptation of Pedro Páramo, the famous novel by Juan Rulfo. It came out on November 6, after a couple of months’ build-up, and let me tell you, I was beyond ready. I remember so clearly back in Year 7 when my literature teacher made us read Pedro Páramo – quite a book, eh? Back then, I could barely grasp half of what Rulfo had written, but there was something about it, something that made me wonder as if there were layers I couldn’t fully see. My teacher even promised she’d bring in the film for us to better picture what we were reading. She brought in the 1967 version, which, don’t get me wrong, was brilliant but nowhere near as psychedelic as this one.
Quick disclaimer before I go on: I’m not an expert on film adaptations and haven’t looked into whether there are other versions besides the ‘67 one. This is just a quick, no-fuss take on the film because, frankly, I haven’t had much time to delve in. Apologies in advance if anything’s missed.
Now, I won’t lie, that book frightened me to bits when I read it, so much so that I ended up bingeing it in a single afternoon just to avoid having to pick it up again night after night. I’d imagine scenes in my head and get all jittery. My mum didn’t understand why the book made my skin crawl, and, honestly, even now as an adult, it gives me an eerie feeling – like there’s a presence around whenever I flip through a few pages at random. Now, having watched Netflix’s new adaptation, I feel like I’ve reconnected with the story, seeing it through more mature, reflective eyes.
Netflix took a gamble bringing Pedro Páramo back, and I have to say, it paid off. While this isn’t the first attempt to capture the surreal, weighty vibe of the novel (the 1960s version did make a good go of it), this modern adaptation offers something different; It breathes a freshness into that eerie, haunting world of Comala –full of ghosts, unresolved souls, echoes from the beyond. There’s a pull, something that grabs you from the start and takes you hand-in-hand into this strange ghost town. The film keeps the grit of the story but doesn’t lay it on thick or exaggerated; netflix found the perfect tone, creating a sense that Comala, and its dead, feel almost real.
Every detail feels carefully done –from the muted colours and tense silences that give you goosebumps to the actors’ portrayals, which are truly something special. Those behind this film understood that Pedro Páramo isn’t a story to dress up with overblown soundtracks or effects; they let it breathe, setting its own pace, much like the book, which takes its time drawing you into the characters’ lives and the despair of a town condemned.
Comparing this to the older adaptation, I feel Netflix got the tone just right, without trying to outdo or erase what came before, but rather paying homage. The 1967 film had that dark, respectful silence to it, and, back then, it made for an intriguing take. But with modern resources, this version takes it up a notch. It’s universal, connecting viewers to themes of loss, unresolved histories, and broken bonds, right along with Juan Preciado as he arrives in Comala searching for his father, Pedro Páramo.
my humble opinion, this is a cracking film, partly because it brings Pedro Páramo to a new generation –for those who, like me, read it in school and couldn’t make heads or tails of it or for those who’ve never read it and now get to experience it in such a powerful way. I absolutely recommend it. Netflix has knocked it out of the park here. The real standout of this adaptation is how well they’ve managed to capture that surreal atmosphere of the book. You constantly feel unsure whether the characters are alive or dead, right from Juan Preciado’s eerie arrival in Comala. Something feels off from the star; a sadness, a kind of weight in the air, a feeling of a place forever trapped in time. Rodrigo Prieto’s visual style brings Comala to life, or to death, depending on how you look at it. It feels more like a dream than a film, just like how the novel’s twists and time jumps leave you in a daze. The dialogue sticks faithfully to the novel, barely altered. If you have the book handy when the film begins, you’ll see what I mean.
they didn’t try to modernise the setting, as they so often do, only to ruin the essence of a piece. This adaptation keeps that deserted, dust-covered feel of a lost town, with its adobe houses, villagers in old-fashioned clothing, empty streets; each scene is designed to make you feel the heat, the dust, and that sense of burden the characters carry. Pedro Páramo is a novel of guilt, sins, and secrets that refuse to rest. This new version lets you feel all that weight, buried yet somehow still pulsing beneath the surface, as if the very walls of those houses are waiting to speak.
And Pedro Páramo himself? What a masterstroke. He’s not your typical villain, but there’s a coldness, a presence about him that’s unsettlin;u you see how he built his power, his influence over the town, and left a trail of suffering in his wake. I found it intriguing that the actor, Manuel Garcia Rulfo, shares the same surname as the book’s author, Juan Rulfo! Garcia Rulfo nails that blend of arrogance and tragedy, conveying the sense of a man trapped by his own choices.
Compared to the 60s film, this one sticks closer to the novel’s flow. There’s no rush, they let the story unfold in those silences, in dialogues that feel like conversations between the living and the dead. The original film was strong in its own way, but this one picks up on nuances that come across so much more visually here, and that makes all the difference. Even if you’ve never read Pedro Páramo, you can now connect with the essence of Rulfo’s work in a way that was a bit elusive before, though the first film still holds its own starkness. This film isn’t something you’ll watch and just move on from; it’s going to leave a mark, i promised you. It makes you think on the weight of choices beyond the grave and the way family ties, even broken ones, shape us. I’m not one for superstition or religious faith, but for those who are, I imagine this will feel even deeper.
The dead linger because of unfinished business, things left unresolved that bind them to Comala. The film captures that idea in a way that makes you think about how everyone carries their own past, memories, regrets –things that hold us back or shape us for eternity—. There are scenes where the only sound is the wind, or maybe a whisper, that make you feel like you’re there, in that emptiness, surrounded by the voices of the past. It keeps you on edge, makes you expect something without knowing quite what. This choice feels spot on 'cause Pedro Páramo is about as much about the silence as it is about the spoken word.
And the supporting characters! Each one adds something to that atmosphere of despair. From the women Pedro Páramo loved and scorned to the villagers, everyone has a story of suffering; It’s clear they weren’t thrown in to fill gaps; there’s a depth to each that helps you understand why Comala is what it is; more purgatory than town.
The director makes you live through the story, forcing you to feel the weight of those lives left trapped in Comala. That’s what I think Rulfo wanted for his readers, and it’s exactly what this film delivers. Netflix has taken a risk with a story that isn’t easy to digest and doesn’t have the snappy pace of mainstream films. Yet, precisely because of that, it feels all the more authentic. This adaptation of Pedro Páramo is like a second chance to understand the mystery Rulfo created, a way to bring Comala to life again and connect us to its characters in a way perhaps only Netflix dared to attempt.
If you have a free evening, I’d definitely recommend giving it a go; it’s well worth diving into this story, feeling the weight of Rulfo’s legacy now brought to life in a whole new way.
I’d recommend it, and not just for those who’ve read the book and are left with lingering questions, but for anyone looking for something different, something that’ll really make you think and feel. Honestly, it’s one of the best things I’ve watched on Netflix in quite a while; an adaptation that not only respects the original material but also turns it into a unique experience for the viewer.
Dear reader, if you’ve got a bit of free time, don’t miss out on this one. It’s worth diving into this story and feeling that weight Juan Rulfo left us with in his book, now brought back to life with this remarkable production.
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