Katarzyna Petru
It's time to abandon stereotypes: sports are not just about sweat, discipline, and records. In "Olympo," the new Spanish Netflix series from the producers of "Elite," sports serve as a backdrop for drama, sex, intrigue, and... suspiciously well-lit scenes in the locker room. It's a bit like "The Hunger Games" meets "Top Model," only with pecs.
Zoe dashes onto the track but ends up in a lion's cage
The main character, Zoe (Nira Osahia), is chosen to train for the heptathlon at the High Performance Center in the Pyrenees (HPC). The problem? Everyone around her is a victory-driven cyborg. And Zoe, who runs not only in front of the finish line but also from her past, has trouble finding her place in all of this.
Right from the start, she encounters a wall of silence – her roommate Renata (Andy Duato) doesn’t even try to talk to her. Two handsome musclemen from the rugby team – Charlie (Martí Cordero) and Sebas (Juan Perales) – turn the gym into an obstacle course full of humiliations. And the coaches? They resemble heartless controllers more than mentors.
Bodies that scream "look at me" – and a plot that sometimes falls silent
Let’s not kid ourselves – “Olympo” revolves around physicality. The cameras glide over the bodies of the actors as if filming a lingerie ad. Slow-mo, sweat, pool, sauna, shower. There’s a lot to see – and Netflix knows this perfectly 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 practically crackles with tension. Then we have a homoerotic sequence of a rugby match interspersed with a possible kiss. And when the kiss actually happens – naked, in the shower – things get hot. In the literal sense.
Amaia and Her Drowning in Ambition
Amaia (Clara Galle) is a perfectionist who turns synchronized swimming into a battleground. She tries to secure sponsorship from Olympo for herself, but at the cost of her relationship with her partner Nuría (María Romanillos) and the rest of the team. And although her mission to "discover the truth" about HPC seems noble, it's hard not to get the impression that it’s more about her own ego.
The 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 saying what they really think. Gossip, snarkiness, tensions. Zoe shines with her honesty, Roque charms with authenticity, and Amaia and Charlie are irritating yet attention-grabbing.
The plot sometimes limps, although the acting is stable...
Although the series has ambitions – doping, homophobia, the pressure of success, sex as a form of escape – it often veers into banality. The dialogues could be better if they were given a bit more depth. The investigation in the fourth episode, instead of raising tension, slows down the action. The topic of transgender athletes has also been completely overlooked – it would have been fitting to include at least one sentence.
Nira Osahia as Zoe is the emotional center of the series – she draws you in, experiences, asks the questions you ask yourself. Clara Galle as Amaia acts well, but her character is too irritating to really sympathize with. Sebas and Charlie steal every scene they are in – whether with their eyes or (in Charlie's case) with a strip-style dance.
Verdict? A bit like a cheat meal after a workout...
“Olympo” doesn’t unveil America. But it doesn’t have to. It’s a show about beautiful people in beautiful places with not-so-beautiful intentions. It’s easy to watch, sometimes almost too easy. But if you just want to fire up something light, visually intense, and with a hint of scandal – this is it.
Don’t expect an Olympic gold. But a bronze medal for guilty pleasure? Absolutely.
