In Julio Torres’ series Fantasmas, survival in the future is an intricate, corporate-owned game of feeding your identity to the machine.
The avant-garde weirdness and practically created artistry of Fantasmas — Max’s new series from Problemista writer / director Julio Torres — makes it seem infinitely more whimsical and lighthearted than most other TV shows about people living in the robot-filled near-future. But in addition to being a story about a misunderstood artist trying to survive in a world hostile toward creativity, Fantasmas’ first season has been one of this year’s most brilliant examinations of the torturous experience we commonly refer to as “being (too) online.”
The rent is long past due as Fantasmas first introduces multidisciplinary artist Julio (Torres), who, after multiple threatening letters from his landlord, finds himself in desperate need of a Proof of Existence ID in order to keep his apartment. In Fantasmas’ heightened spin on New York City, getting ahold of one’s Proof of Existence is easy enough if you can provide a social security number, a credit score, or demonstrate that you’re an exceptional individual like Beyoncé.
But aside from Julio’s agent Vanesja (Martine Gutierrez) — the “J” is silent — few people can appreciate his raw talent for designing things like clear crayons and communicating with bodies of water (Tilda Swinton). And while the ID’s kind of necessary to live freely and get a job, the idea of having to prove that he exists is so mind-boggling to Julio that he insists on going without one on principle.
Because Julio’s robot assistant Bibo (Joe Rumrill) isn’t trying to kill him, and his need for an apartment becomes subsumed in a quest to find a lost oyster-shaped earring, Fantasmas doesn’t look or feel like many other recent stories about dystopian futures. But the show’s jokes about Zappos becoming a film studio and Exxon getting into the multi-family real estate business both underline the degree to which people’s lives have become ensnared in corporate-owned systems that technologies like the Proof of Existence feed into.
Though Fantasmas isn’t going for a Matrix-style narrative about humans fighting machines, it becomes easier to read as a story about resisting the commodification of one’s entire being as Julio encounters other eccentrics like Chester (Tomas Matos) — a cab driver rallying against Uber with his one-man ridesharing service — reluctant to sign up for Proof of Existence.
Fantasmas offsets the heft of its deeper themes by using a series of absurdist skits to build an entire fantastical world around Julio. His social media manager is a minuscule gnome who refuses to take any feedback, and his hunt for the earring leads him to a former queer hamster nightclub that has been gentrified into a tiny CVS. The show revels in its own silliness as much as it does its cleverness, which is part of why it seldom feels as if it’s speaking down to you about the perils of trusting social media algorithms (Dominique Jackson).
As batshit (positive) as Fantasmas might seem, with its plots about soul-sucking demons catfishing men on Grindr and dresses for toilets, the show presents them as things that people have become inured to with time and constant encouragement to accept the new norm.
That last point in particular has a fascinating way of making Julio’s journey feel very similar to the experience of being bombarded with noise on the internet that’s really just meant to extract engagement rather than giving you something you actually want. But in a world like ours that’s currently so committed to cranking that noise up at every opportunity, Fantasmas’ willingness to poke fun at it has made the show a surprising summer TV gem.
Fantasmas’ first season is now streaming on Max.
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