They were hidden in a very (very) deep recess of memories, silent for nearly 30 years.
You never listened to those songs again, you never sang them again.
But suddenly you’re there in front of the computer, repeating them all, every word, every turn of their melodies. The 44-year-old adult you are now – who once boasted of being an exquisite music listener, who had overcome the ballads and pop music of the adolescent and post-adolescent phase – discovers himself playing all the lists of reading by Luis Miguel on Spotify. Then you realize he was just as tenderly young as you, maybe a few years older, when he made you learn all those rancheras and boleros on the versions he performed in the early 90s with the musical arrangements of Armando Manzanero.
You only had to watch “Luis Miguel, the series” on Netflix to break all the prejudices and start singing the tunes again.
You recognize the phenomenon of how such an online TV platform taps into the influence of the World Wide Web to resurrect your old emotional memory – or to convert a killer like Pablo Escobar into a fashionable media star of Hollywood – and how it makes it possible for a comeback from an artist who disappeared from the public eye seven years ago when he was once the most famous singer in the Ibero-American market.
You didn’t even know that Luis Miguel remained as silent as those songs in your brain. The man who sold more than 100 million records in the era of LPs and CDs – the first Latin American to receive a gold disc in the United States for an album made in Spanish – had been sued for breaking up contract for not showing up for performances. He had stopped giving interviews. “The Sun of Mexico, LuisMi“ had hidden.
And now it’s back thanks to the work and grace of Netflix.
Luis Miguel, 48, is currently on tour in Spain. He has given performances in Mexico City, the majority of which sold out (will be repeated next fall), as well as in Texas, New York, California and Las Vegas. He recorded a new disc, “¡México por siempre!”, in November last year, as a prelude to the series and perhaps as a premonition of its success.
Yes, he’s back. In the meantime, we viewers have a better understanding of why he was so private and why he cultivated such an arrogant reputation.
“Luis Miguel is reborn after hitting rock bottom,” Javier León Herrera from Spain, the author of the biography on which the series is based, told DPA. The singer has licensed this book, “Luis My King, the exciting life of Luis Miguel”, as well as the Netflix show.
The series just wrapped up its first season on Sunday. These are 13 episodes that revealed those details of Luis Miguel’s life that had remained a mystery. Unusually for a digital TV platform, the show grew slowly, just one episode a week (it also aired on traditional Telemundo) like the old fashioned way. telenovelaswith all the suspense until the next episode.
But it tells a real, but brutal, story. The life of young Luis Miguel and his brothers was marked by domestic violence, carrying with them the burden of a tragedy: the disappearance of his mother, without a trace to this day.
Luis Miguel Gallego Basteri was born in Puerto Rico in 1970 and grew up in Mexico. The show reveals how his father, Spanish musician Luisito Rey (who died in 1992) exploited his own son. As Luis Miguel’s manager, he drugged him as a child to improve his performance and ripped him off when he was an 18-year-old celebrity. Luis Miguel’s Italian mother, Marcela Basteri, whom Luisito Rey also abused, disappeared in 1986. The last person to see Marcela alive was Rey. The common thread of the first season of the show is the disappearance of Marcela and her search, even with the help of the Mossad.
The series is a clear allegation of macho violence in tune with all of the “No more!” movements against male abuse. Peruvian feminist writer Gabriela Wiener lucidly states in a New York Times op-ed: “Suddenly we care more about a celebrity’s biography because it’s rooted in the same silence that made male violence invisible, in one of the most dangerous continents [Latin America] be a woman. »
Everyone is talking about Luis Miguel now, even himself – or his community manager – as a shy social media user.
Digital outlets review each episode as if it were fiction. They report what is new in the life of Luis Miguel. Every Sunday, the public – curious and nostalgic viewers, but also millennials who watched the show with their parents – gathered under the Twitter and the Instagram hashtag #LuisMiguellaserie. They made Luisito Rey Mexico’s public enemy number one. The last episode of the first season did not reveal everything about Marcela. There were a few details left for next season.
Marketing is also seizing the opportunity. In Ciudad Juarez, in northern Mexico, an artisan piñata company created the piñatas of Luis Miguel and his father. “I’m a fan of the show and I thought to myself: you have to give people the opportunity to release their anger against Rey,” Adilene Sanchez, the director, told EFE.
The entertainment industry is riding the wave of a global clamor for justice and against silence, and at the same time it is driving the return of a cash cow, all at once, all within the semantics of the modern era.
You see it. Time has passed, you have changed and so has he. Still, you don’t want to stop singing.