Associated with the brand of Juan Antonio Bayona or even Guillemo del Toro thanks to the scripts Shelter D Impossible (also in his feature directorial debut with Bone Marrow Mystery) Sergio G. Sanchez presents a specific product in its first series for Netflix. To his concept of horror cinema, based on the psychodrama of all these titles, Soul adds a dose of enduring romance and youthful identity, perfect for this target audience to gain a foothold on the screen, but does so with its own character and love of sentiment that separates it from other series of superficial fast consumption.
The opening, in which the school class is involved in a fatal bus accident, is a clear nod to the initial bloodshed of the saga. Destination (with a shot destined to stay in the head… in the head of the viewer, not in the head of a certain character). But that’s not quite what Soul will tell later: the story of a traumatic loss, mortality and grief, the story of the girl who gave the series its name (Mireya Oriol), who lost her memory in a tragedy, who will try to pick up the pieces of what happened before … including some strange presences that we could call ghosts.
SoulNo matter how hastily he collected his own fantastic mythology, nevertheless, he is distinguished by a fairly clear idea of u200bu200bthe supernatural. Here and there, storylines appear, designed to lengthen the story and possibly build a second season (format Netflix oblige), but the emotional and sentimental center of the nine chapters that make it up is clear and transparent. His wonderful seventh chapter, in which most of the riddles are revealed, embellishes the story with poetic and folkloric representations, and almost serves as a satisfying conclusion to the riddle.
All in all, the overtly romantic and melodramatic style—sometimes overly melodramatic—of horror work is adequate, and the result is a story of pain, loss, and identity that fits perfectly with the radical plot twists that a streaming series demands. Sánchez makes excellent use of the Asturian landscape, exploiting the melancholy and mystery that Fernando Velázquez’s elegant music (with any reference to Goldsmith?) carefully enhances without emphasizing.
Together with Quique Maillo, another driving force behind a Spanish commercial thriller, Soul It turns out to be a more elegant product than a cunning one, able to piece together plot puzzle pieces, juxtapose versions and narrative points of view, with an idea of supernatural horror based more on pain and loss than poignant (which would also be nice). As imperfect as it is, it’s a nice and elegant surprise that tries to combine the popular and the folklore without going beyond copy-paste of close references.