TV Review: The Sweet Charms of "Acapulco"
The Apple TV series joins the ranks of other sitcoms that are, simply put, an absolute joy to watch.
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Ever since Schitt’s Creek ended in 2020 I’ve been on the hunt for another show that would give me that same warm and comfy feeling, that same mix of sweetness and joy that was always one of Scitt’s Creek’s greatest strengths as a sitcom. Abbott Elementary hits some of the same notes, but it’s a different kind of sitcom than Schitt’s Creek, mostly because it’s more knowing and sly (it is a mockumentary, after all). Ted Lasso came closer, but it lost its way through the third season, with far too many plot lines and far too little focus.
And then, about two weeks ago, I finally started Apple TV’s Acapulco. I’d seen trailers for it for years, ever since it started in 2021, but for some reason I just never got around to watching it. As soon as I finished the first episode, however, I knew that I’d found what I was searching for. It’s sweet and endearing and charming, and it’s the kind of show that is beautifully utopian in its sensibility, wearing its beautiful heart right on its sleeve.
Acapulco takes place in two different times. In the present, billionaire Maximo Gallardo Ramos (played by Eugenio Derbez) recounts for his nephew, Hugo (Raphael Alejandro) his time working for the opulent Las Colinas Resort in the 1980s (his past self is played by Enrique Arrizon). When he goes to work at the hotel, he soon falls under the spell of the charming Julia (Camila Perez), even as he also has to contend with various crises at the hotel, slowly working his way up the corporate ladder. Meanwhile, his best friend Memo (Fernando Carsa) also goes to work at the hotel, where he labors under the dour Lupe (Regina Orozco) who becomes even more dour after he falls for her niece, Lorena (Carolina Moreno).
I think it would be a bit simplistic to say that Acapulso is sentimental, though it is definitely more than a little nostalgic for the glitz and glamor of 1980s Acapulco. However, this makes sense diegetically, since it’s clear that the Maximo of the present yearns for the simplicity of the past, before he became the heartless billionaire he is today. There is also an innocence to the portions of the series that take place in the 1980s, much of which is conveyed by both Arrizon and Orozco, who are perfect avatars for a refreshingly nontoxic version of teenage masculinity and angst. When it comes right down to it, they’re both upstanding young people just trying to do their best, and Maximo in particular remains devoted to his family and their well-being, both his mother, Nora (Vanessa Bauche), sister Sarah (Regina Reynoso), and eventual stepfather Esteban (Carlos Corona).
Moreover, there are real stakes in the stories that Acapulco chooses to tell, particularly when it comes to Sara. In addition to being a teen rebel, she’s also a secret lesbian, and though she doesn’t experience any emotional anguish over her identity, she definitely clashes with her mother once the latter discovers her secret, even going so far as to move out. The series handles this entire storyline with remarkable grace, allowing Nora to grapple with the moral complexity of being a devout Catholic while also continuing to love her daughter unequivocally, while Sarah has to decide whether to run away with her lover or reunite with her family. Though Sarah does end up choosing her family over her love life, it’s clear from her story in the present that she does eventually manage to find romantic happiness and that her mother continues to be a part of her life. In a lesser show than this one this resolution would feel trite and unearned, but in Acapulco it feels honest to the characters and is thus all the more emotionally rewarding.
Much like Schitt’s Creek, there are no real villains in Acapulco, though characters can obviously act like jerks at times. Hotel owner Diane (Jessica Collins), for example, could be a one-dimensional tyrant lording her power over her underlings, but she’s so much more. Sure, she is sometimes insensitive to the needs of others, particularly Don Pablo (Damián Alcázar), who essentially gave up his family in service to the hotel, but she eventually realizes that he needs to be able to spend time with his family. What’s more, it’s revealed that she misses her son, Chad (Chord Overstreet), when he goes away for a while. For his part, Chord is a well-meaning but oblivious doofus who is for a time the impediment to Maximo’s relationship with Julia but has his own arcs. Even Hector, who begins the series as Maximo’s superior and loves making his life miserable at first, has more emotional depth to him than one might expect.
Narratively, Acapulco is also far more complex than might at first appear, and it excels at getting us as viewers to feel invested in both Maximo’s journey in the past and his grappling with his mistakes in the present. As the third season has already made clear, Maximo’s relationship with Julia ended at some point, and he ended up having a daughter with another of his love interests. Much like Hugo, we find ourselves on the edge of our seats as he slowly unspools the “truth” about his past, even as we also await his reckoning with those he managed to alienate during his time at Las Colinas. Derbez’s undeniable charm radiates off the screen any time in which he appears, and one can see glimmers of his younger self in his sparkling eyes. In one notable scene in the third season he tries to tell his younger self to avoid the mistakes he made but, like so many of us, he’s powerless to prevent the future from unspooling as it will. As his younger self says, he has to make his own mistakes and learn the hard way. It’s a remarkably melancholic note in what is otherwise an optimistic series.
Suffice it to say, then, that I simply adore Acapulco. It’s one of those shows that quickly casts its spell over you and invites you, like the many guests who swan their way through the bright pink halls of Las Colinas. I sincerely hope that it gets a fourth season but, until then, I’ll simply enjoy this little bit of joy in the world.