First published in 1967, One Hundred Years of Solitude, marked out Colombian author Gabriel Garcia Marquez as a leading figure among the notable Latin American writers of his generation. Now, the long-anticipated Netflix adaptation of this epic saga comes to our screens after first being announced in 2019. It does not disappoint in its scope or ambition.
Reported to be one of Netflix’s biggest-ever productions, the original novel has been split into two halves, each comprising eight hour-long episodes. This splicing of one narrative into two seasons mimics the platform’s successful formula for hits such as Bridgerton season three or Outer Banks season four.
The bonus here is that the visuals alone are well worth the wait. Involving more than 20,000 extras, 15 filming locations in Colombia, and more costume changes than it is possible to count, the adaptation lives up to its Netflix predecessors’ high standards.
For this reason there was a careful casting process, resulting in an all-Colombian cast, few of whom were professional actors before this production. This is a first major role for Marco Gonzalez who plays Jose Arcadio Buendia in his youth, and his wife, Ursula Iguaran, is played superbly by the professional dancer Susana Morales. In later life they are played beautifully by Diego Vasquez and Marleyda Soto, while well-known Colombian actor Claudio Catano appears as Colonel Aureliano Buendia.
This is exactly the kind of authenticity sought by García Marquez’s sons, Gonzalo and Rodrigo, who acted as consultants and co-producers on the series in exchange for the rights of the novel that even Garcia Marquez himself believed could not be adapted for the screen.
Alex Garcia Lopez, who directed five of the episodes in the first season, stated that his intention too was “to create something authentic, with the calibre of an international production, because the story deserves it”. It is clear how faithful the directors wanted this series to remain to the book.
Having sold over 45 million copies and been translated into 44 languages, it was One Hundred Years of Solitude that gave some Latin American authors – later known as the “boom” generation – an international readership. So it is safe to say that many viewers will come to the series as fans of the novel.
While Netflix’s commitment to period dramas is well-known, this series will also attract fans of its fantasy, dystopian, and historical productions. Colombian director and screenwriter Laura Mora, who directs three episodes of season one, notes that, “bringing this work to the screen … I feel proud to open a window into our country to a global audience”. Its reflections on the themes of conscience, fate and the arbitrary nature of conflict will strike a universal chord.
Starting in the unnamed town where Jose Arcadio Buendia and Ursula Iguaran were born, the book and series show the couple founding the fictional village of Macondo as dreamed up by Garcia Marquez. It is here that the story of the Buendia family plays out, and the novel’s characters, settings and many plotlines come to life over the course of a century.
The timeframe of the novel is said to span the 1820s-1920s, but within both novel and series time itself is seen to be elastic and circular. The adaptation glosses over these issues, leaving us with a timeless piece which is often impossible to pin down chronologically, all the while maintaining narrative coherence.
The Netflix series follows Garcia Marquez’s story in an exacting way, including the famous lines which provide the memorable opening to the story:
Many years later, as he faced the firing squad, Colonel Aureliano Buendia was to remember that distant afternoon when his father took him to discover ice.
From there it covers the numerous sequences of personal and political events which affect the Buendia family. Where possible, the series enacts the book word for word, either through the voiceover which takes on the role of omniscient narrator, or through the dialogue itself. The costumes and styling of the characters and the minutiae of background detail are taken straight from the pages of Garcia Marquez’s imagination and rendered in sumptuous visual glory.
While the novel is a complex volume, the series adds even more narrative depth. It draws out scenes that Garcia Marquez passes over in a page or two; some characters who only have brief appearances in the book are given just as much screen time in certain scenes as the Buendia family protagonists. In many ways, this makes watching the adaptation a more cohesive experience than reading the book thanks to these clear links between characters and scenes.
It seems impossible to write about Garcia Marquez without mentioning magical realism. While hotly contested, magical realism traditionally refers to literature where magical events occur within a realist narrative, and which are presented as real to the characters and the reader.
More recent criticism, according to Professor Leslie Bary, has focused on how this concept exoticises Latin America, viewing Indigenous and other cultural practices and beliefs as supernatural and, therefore, primitive.
Although its roots lie in Cuban author Alejo Carpentier’s The Kingdom of This World, it is undeniable that this genre is largely associated with Garcia Marquez’s writing and with One Hundred Years of Solitude in particular.
The magical and supernatural elements of the novel are certainly something that the Netflix series had to contend with, but while the adaptation keeps in all the fantastical elements of the novel – the blood of the son running straight to his mother’s door after his death, the plague of insomnia and then amnesia that befalls Macondo – it also treats them with respect and understanding within the plotline, maintaining their visibility without further comment.
Through a faithful and detailed retelling of this fictional fantasy of rural Colombia’s past, Netflix’s One Hundred Years of Solitude weaves its magic on screen, and those who love the novel will not be disappointed.
Liz Harvey-Kattou is Senior Lecturer in Spanish and Latin American Studies, University of Westminster.
This article was first published on The Conversation.
