The Web of Deception: A Critical Look at Netflix's A Widow's Game

Netflix’s latest Spanish crime thriller, A Widow’s Game (original title: La viuda negra), plunges viewers into a chilling real-life murder case that captivated Spain in 2017. Directed by Carlos Sedes and written by Ramón Campos, the film attempts to dissect the sinister layers behind the murder of Antonio Navarro Cerdán, a man found stabbed multiple times in a Valencia parking garage. While the film benefits from a compelling true story and strong performances, its narrative structure, which shifts between multiple perspectives, ultimately hinders its potential to deliver a truly cohesive and impactful cinematic experience.

A Gripping True Story

The strength of A Widow’s Game lies in its source material: the infamous “Black Widow of Patraix” case involving María Jesús Moreno Canto, known as Maje. The film opens with the grim discovery of Antonio’s body, immediately establishing a tone of mystery and suspense. The initial investigation is spearheaded by veteran homicide detective Eva Torres (Carmen Machi), who, despite the victim’s widow Maje’s (Ivana Baquero) outwardly grieving demeanor, harbors a nagging suspicion. This early focus on the police procedural aspect is engaging, showcasing Eva’s shrewd intuition as she navigates the complexities of the case. Machi delivers a solid performance, embodying the no-nonsense cop who can discern the truth beneath layers of deceit.

The Double-Edged Sword of Multiple Perspectives

However, the film’s ambition to explore the story from three different perspectives—Maje’s, her lover’s, and the police’s—proves to be a double-edged sword. While conceptually intriguing, this shifting narrative can feel disjointed in a feature-length format. Approximately a quarter of the way through, the film pivots to Maje’s point of view, revealing her seemingly idyllic marriage to Antonio, her secret nightlife, and a chilling underlying desire to escape her husband. This segment highlights Ivana Baquero’s impressive portrayal of Maje, who is as enigmatic and manipulative as she is outwardly sweet. Baquero deftly navigates Maje’s dual existence, making it understandable how she could so easily ensnare those around her. The portrayal of her emotional manipulation of various lovers, particularly Salvador (Tristán Ulloa), a colleague at the hospital, is particularly unsettling.

A Disjointed Narrative Flow

The third perspective, that of Salvador, who becomes entangled in Maje’s web of deceit, further complicates the narrative flow. While Tristán Ulloa’s performance as the smitten and ultimately manipulated Salvador is compelling, the constant shifting can disrupt the build-up of suspense and the audience’s emotional investment in any single character’s journey. What might work effectively in an episodic series, where deeper dives into each character’s psychology and motivations are possible, feels somewhat rushed and fragmented in a two-hour film. The film’s desire to show the “why” behind the crime, rather than just the “who,” is admirable, delving into the insidious nature of manipulation and betrayal. Yet, the rapid transitions prevent a truly profound exploration of these dark psychological landscapes.

A Chilling Reminder

Ultimately, A Widow’s Game is a grim reminder of the sinister possibilities of human nature when obsession and deceit take root. While it may not fully deliver on the seamless storytelling of a perfectly executed thriller, its basis in a shocking true crime and the strong performances by its lead actors make it a compelling, albeit unsettling, watch. The film leaves viewers with a chilling sense of how easily truth can be twisted and how far some individuals will go to achieve their desires, even if it means orchestrating a horrific crime.