La vedova nera

Netflix offers us a surprising offering, based on true events that shook Spain and Europe in 2017, based on Patraix's Black Widow. Directed by Carlos Sedes and starring Ivana Baquero, Carmen Machi, and Tristán Ulloa.

The film offers a powerful true crime thriller that captivates you as we learn about the brutality of the events and the underlying story of its two main perpetrators. The film is further enhanced by the excellent script and the decision to tell us from the perspective of its three protagonists, concluding with the unfolding of the events that saddened all of Spain in 2017.

Carlos Sedes's direction offers no grand extravaganzas, but it does employ an absolute seriousness when confronting the stories and the rawness of his characters. The director's work, rendered with a documentary essence, helps us truly capture the crime in its entirety, and we want to confront the events with complete unease and uncertainty. His leading trio plays an essential role in making everything work smoothly. Machi, Baquero, and Ulloa give their all to their characters, which means we see the true protagonists of reality in the skin of their cast.

Its two-hour running time, which may seem a bit long, really flies by once we're completely hooked on the events and the way it tells us everything behind the horrendous crime. The use of sound and narration are fundamental pillars that make Netflix's offering a pleasant and well-chosen pastime. The streaming platform surprises with a very interesting film that manages to pique our interest thanks to all its virtues and a story that is effective in every aspect, and whose director knows how to handle everything with the necessary caution, so that the necessary fiction never interferes with the reality of a brutal crime.

One of Netflix's pleasant surprises this 2025.

Currently streaming on Netflix comes this true crime account of a woman, Ivana Baquero (the young girl from Pan's Labyrinth, all grown up!) whose husband is killed in a car park. Baquero is seen happily married to her new husband but behind the scenes the union happened after the hubby forgave her for her past sexual indiscretions but due to some psychological background we never get to identify, Baquero, who then begins seeing a co-worker, Tristan Ulloa, a doctor, sexually & when their lustful clutches get more passionate, Baquero convinces him to kill her hubby which the police, led by an intrepid detective, Carmen Machi, suspect w/some well-placed phone taps, the dominoes sure do fall. What keeps this film in the winners' circle is the weird time signature it adopts to tell the tale, we spend about 40 minutes on the crime & the incipient investigation while the remaining time spreads the wedding & the lead up to the murder out which begs the question why. Is it because the crime is so well known in Spain, the filmmakers decided to try something different? The verdict, it doesn't work even though Baquero gives it her all which is a shame.

As "A Widow's Game" (2025 release from Spain; original title "La viuda negra" or "The black widow"; 122 min.) opens, we are reminded that this is "based on true events". It is August 6, 2017" and in a small city south of Valencia, a man's body is discovered, brutally stabbed to death. Eva, a police officer, is assigned to lead the investigation. It's not long before the surviving widow, Maje, is a suspect, even though she has an alibi. At this point we are a good 10 minutes into the movie.

Couple of comments: let me state upfront that I had never heard of these facts before. It doesn't take long to get a sense of how this might play out. The movie is brought in 3 chapters, from the perspectives of Eva, Maje and Salve, the latter a possible love interest. Some bits of the chapters overlap on purpose, just to give the different perspectives on the same facts. I quite enjoyed it for what it was, nothing more nothing less. There isn't anything truly shocking or revealing. It a matter of watching these performances play out. The movie benefits a lot from the lead performance by Spanish actress Ivana Baquero (as Maje), always easy on the eye, and perfectly conveying the seduction games played by Maje. Last but not least, I have no idea why the English title of the movie was changed from "The Black Widow" to the bland "A Widow's Game".

"A Widow's Game" started streaming on Netflix some weeks ago, and I just caught it the other night. This movie is currently rated only 42% Certified Fresh on Rotten Tomatoes, which feels low to me. If you are in the mood for a foreign murder mystery drama, I'd readily suggest you check this out, and draw your own conclusion.

What would constitute a man going through a ' mid life crisis' to commit a murder for a much younger female who he's clearly besotted with? This went through my mind as a flaw to the story but then I remembered it was based on a true life crime in Spain.

It kept us guessing with different view points from each of the would be male suitors esp the gullible male nurse!! Haha!.

I enjoyed the amorally of the lead female because I couldn't wait for her to be caught and put on trial.

My only gripe was I wanted to see more of the breakdown of the relationship between Artimus and his conniving wife.

A solid, decent Netflix thriller.

Netflix's latest true crime production, The Black Widow, revisits the infamous and deeply unsettling "Patraix Crime" - and does so without moral anesthesia or a sentimental gloss. It makes no attempt to redeem, to console, or to wrap the horror in politically correct discourse. What it offers instead is the clinical dissection of a murder, premeditated in cold blood by two functional adults who, in 21st-century Spain, believed they could get away with it.

Unlike many productions in the genre that mask their voyeurism with a supposed aim of "honoring the victims," this film goes straight to the point. We do not see the body. We do not witness the crime. There is no exploitation of grief, no emotional pornography. The victim and his family are respected - truly respected - and the film gains rather than loses by this restraint. The lens turns instead to the perpetrators, exposing something more uncomfortable, more revealing, and more socially valuable: the internal architecture of those who cross the line.

Despite its evocative title, this is not a femme fatale fantasy. It is the real case of María Jesús Moreno Cantó - known as "Maje" - a nurse by profession, and Salvador Rodrigo Lapiedra, a hospital technician. Both were arrested on January 12, 2018. A seductive young woman manipulating an older, submissive man into becoming a weapon might sound like a cliché, but it is not. It is an archetype. And archetypes are not inventions of screenwriters - they are patterns of real life, repeated because they work, because they are encoded in our culture, our imagination, and, as Carl Jung would argue, in our collective unconscious.

The most disturbing part is not the crime itself, but its banality. Maje and Salva were convinced they could get away with it. They believed discretion, a sense of moral superiority, or the indifference of those around them would shield them. Pathological ego does not require psychotic delusions to act. It only needs self-indulgence, a functional environment that normalizes transgression, and a generous dose of fantasy. As behavioral neuroscience reminds us, the human brain can justify morally reprehensible actions as long as it sees itself as an exception - or rewrites the ethical script to accommodate its desires.

And this is where The Black Widow excels. There is no sensationalism here. There is anatomy. Not just of the crime, but of the decisions, the rationalizations, the self-deception, and the twisted bond between two people who were not victims of each other, but co-conspirators feeding off their shared delusion.

Ivana Baquero and Tristán Ulloa deliver outstanding performances. She is cold, but never cartoonish. He is pathetic, but recognizably human. The script avoids the easy trap of portraying the killers as inhuman monsters; instead, it shows them for what they are: people. And that is far more terrifying. Because if they are people, then anyone - under the right (or wrong) conditions - could potentially become something similar. That is the truly frightening truth.

For me, the crown jewel is Carmen Machi. In a role stripped of her usual comedic register, she plays the investigator who faces life's harshness head-on and trusts her instincts. Though the character is fictionalized, it stands as a worthy tribute to the real-life police work behind the case - to the kind of investigator who, without epic speeches or spotlight, bears the emotional weight of brutal cases, tracking evidence and confronting institutional fatigue. Machi's performance doesn't rely on grand monologues; it lives in hardened gestures, emotional restraint, and her embodiment of a type of woman fiction often forgets: the resilient professional who carries on simply because she must.

The film's aesthetic choices are also commendable. Carlos Sedes's direction avoids visual sensationalism. There is a clinical cleanliness to the world depicted - hospital corridors, anonymous stairwells, police offices. Everything evokes the banality of evil, to borrow Hannah Arendt's phrase: monstrosity doesn't dwell in gothic castles or dark rituals; it lives in your building's hallway, in the hospital kitchen chat, in a WhatsApp message.

And yes, this too is science. Forensic psychology studies show that the most dangerous criminals are not the cinematic psychopaths, but the functional individuals who integrate their perversion into everyday structures. They are the ones who "don't seem capable of that." The human brain doesn't register danger in those who behave normally - and that is why certain signals go unnoticed: because they do not break the pattern.

Bambú Producciones approaches this story with meticulous care. Eschewing the trap of gory reenactments, they maintain narrative tension by focusing on psychology. Instead of simply recounting what happened, they explore how it could happen, and why the perpetrators convinced themselves that their actions weren't criminal, but justified. This is more than storytelling: it's emotional pedagogy. It teaches how moral self-deception works, and how intimacy can become a stage for domination.

In short, The Black Widow is a resounding success. Not only for its acting and technical quality, but for its ethical stance: it neither glorifies nor trivializes its subjects. It reveals the horror of the ordinary - how easy it is to cross the line when one believes the world owes them something. A work not only to be seen, but to be felt - in the skin, the gut, and, if watched with eyes wide open, in the conscience.