Katarzyna Petru
It's time to ditch the stereotypes: sport is not just sweat, discipline, and records. In "Olympo", the new Spanish series on Netflix from the producers of "Elite", sport serves as a backdrop for drama, sex, intrigue, and… suspiciously well-lit scenes in the locker room. It's a bit like "The Hunger Games" meeting "Top Model", but with a chest.
Zoe sprints onto the treadmill, but ends up in a lion's den
The main character, Zoe (Nira Osahia), is chosen to train for the heptathlon at the Mountain High Performance Centre in the Pyrenees (HPC). The problem? Everyone around her is a victory-driven cyborg. And Zoe, who runs not only from the finish line but also from her past, struggles to find her place in all of this.
Right from the start, she encounters a wall of silence – her roommate Renata (Andy Duato) doesn't even attempt to talk to her. Two handsome beefcakes from the rugby team – Charlie (Martí Cordero) and Sebas (Juan Perales) – turn the gym into an obstacle course full of humiliations. And the coaches? There's more of the soulless controllers in them than of mentors.
Bodies that scream “look at me” – and a plot that sometimes goes quiet
Let’s not kid ourselves – “Olympo” revolves around physicality. The cameras glide over the bodies of the actors as if shooting an underwear commercial. Slow-mo, sweat, pool, sauna, shower. There’s plenty to look at – and Netflix knows this well.
Roque (Agustín Della Corte), the captain of the rugby team and an openly gay athlete, is the most interesting character in the series. In one scene, his “wrestling” moment with a teammate crackles with tension. Then we have a homoerotic sequence of a rugby match interspersed with a possible kiss. And when the kiss really happens – naked, in the shower – it gets hot. In the literal sense.
Amaia and her immersion in ambition
Amaia (Clara Galle) is a perfectionist, turning synchronised swimming into a battleground. She’s trying to secure sponsorship from Olympo, but at the cost of her relationship with her partner Nuría (María Romanillos) and the rest of the team. And while her mission to 'discover the truth' about HPC seems noble, it’s hard not to feel that it’s really about her own ego.
Best moments? Those off the field. In the sauna and at illegal parties (who wouldn’t want to play ‘Beer-minton,’ or beer pong with darts?), the characters drop their masks and start speaking their minds. Gossip, spite, tension. Zoe shines with her honesty, Roque captivates with authenticity, and Amaia and Charlie irritate, yet draw the eye.
The plot sometimes stumbles, although the acting is stable...
While the series has ambitions – doping, homophobia, pressure to succeed, sex as a form of escape – it often strays into the realm of the banal. The dialogues could be better if they were given a bit more depth. The investigation in the fourth episode, instead of raising the tension, slows down the action. The topic of transgender athletes is also completely overlooked – it really called for at least one sentence.
Nira Osahia as Zoe is the emotional centre of the series – she draws you in, experiences, and asks questions that you ask yourself. Clara Galle as Amaia acts well, but her character is too annoying to really sympathise with. Sebas and Charlie steal every scene they appear in – whether with a gaze or (in Charlie's case) dancing in a revealing style.
Verdict? A bit like a cheat meal after training...
“Olympo” doesn’t reinvent the wheel. But it doesn’t have to. It’s a series about beautiful people in beautiful places with not entirely beautiful intentions. It’s smooth viewing, sometimes a bit too smooth. But if you just want to switch on something light, visually intense, and with a hint of scandal – this is it.
Don’t expect Olympic gold. But a bronze medal for guilty pleasure? Absolutely.
