Scale e serpenti

Snakes and Ladders has its own, unique style and very entertaining characters that will keep you hooked until the last episode. If you enjoyed Casa de Las Flores and other Manolo Caro shows, you are probably going to like this one.

Fun, excellent production, entangled stories and an intelligent script that sets it apart from telenovelas and American soap dramas.

If you are not convinced by the plot, give a chance to the talented cast and the charismatic presence of Cecilia Suarez and the actress who plays "Martha Sanchez" working together. There could be a whole Netflix comedy show just with those two.

Having an inside look into the wealthy society of Mexico, for the first time a production of my country takes place in another location of Mexico out of the capital city, Guadalajara. The cast was perfect, all of the actors and actresses, specially the lead one, make an exceptional work in portraying their characters and making them enjoyable and in ocations, funny. Combining the satirical-comedic-dramatic- and political genres, the series capture a very good aura. It also has a good soundtrack and a very well-included social diversity. It was also refreshing to see familiar faces like Benny Emmanuel, Loreto Peralta, Michelle Rodríguez, Marimar Vega, and Luis Felipe Tovar, as part of the cast. A very good Mexican production. If you don't have any kind of social prejudice, I recommend you to watch it.

This director and writer always does the same thing, Use homosexual scenes to convince his frustrated lifestyle. He want to be the new "Almodovar" but always fails, he always makes mediocre and unfunny things, nor does he fulfill the objective of the genre he wants to make.

Most of the acting feels fake and I don't think it's their fault, but rather the film's director's.

Having great actors who have had good reviews in these movies or series are a separate issue and they do it so differently, they don't look comfortable.

I hope it improves over time, because it has had opportunities in America and Europe.

Snakes and Ladders is not just another series. It is a daring exploration of ambition, betrayal, and human complexity delivered through the vivid lens of Manolo Caro, whose visual and narrative style reaches new heights in this extraordinary production.

But what elevates Snakes and Ladders from brilliant to unforgettable is the tour de force performance of Luis Felipe Tovar. His portrayal is nothing short of magnificent. Tovar brings to life a character that is equal parts vulnerable, cunning, charismatic, and broken. Every glance, every pause, every explosion of emotion feels deeply lived-in, never performed. This is an actor in full command of his instrument, delivering what may very well be one of the best performances of his career.

Caro's direction is fearless. He weaves a multi-layered tale that manages to be both intimate and operatic. The script is sharp, with dialogue that cuts deep and lingers. The cinematography is lush and symbolic, using color and framing to evoke the dizzying highs and crushing lows of the game that is life - or survival - for these characters.

The ensemble cast is equally remarkable. There is no weak link. Each actor adds a distinct energy to the puzzle, contributing to the series' tightly woven emotional tapestry. Special mentions go to whose chemistry with Tovar is electric and unforgettable.

There is elegance in the chaos, poetry in the pain. The series doesn't just entertain - it challenges. It reflects back to the audience the cost of power, the fragility of loyalty, and the unpredictable nature of fate, like the very game that gives the series its name.

If you are looking for something that is visually arresting, emotionally resonant, and superbly acted, Snakes and Ladders is a must-watch. And if you are a fan of Luis Felipe Tovar, this is your moment to witness a master at the height of his artistic powers.

Bravo to Manolo Caro and the entire team. This is television elevated to art.

The series is a kind of audiovisual salad: it kicks off with a premise that very suspiciously recalls Le Dieu du carnage, which Roman Polanski adapted for the screen in 2011 as Carnage. Its aesthetic and characters feel like the offspring of an unlikely Wes Anderson-Pedro Almodóvar collaboration-especially channeling the madcap spirit of Almodóvar's Los Amantes Pasajeros. Yes, it's entertaining... until it isn't. By the end, the tone shifts so abruptly that the final episode feels ripped straight from Luis Estrada's personal archives-pamphleteering included. It's as if the first few chapters were built with genuine care, only to tumble headlong into a forced, hurried conclusion.