This sort of film gives films a bad name. Netflix told the story first and told it better. It's almost as if the producers said, "Hey, look at this Netflix series. We can do **far** worse than this!"

[spoiler] _Loving Pablo_ opens with Columbian journalist Virginia Vallejo (Penélope Cruz) laughing upon learning it's illegal for American hotels to give guests aspirin. She adds, "Pablo (Escobar) would laugh, too. And then he would kill you." WTF!? Why would he kill me? Because American hotels can't give aspirin, because of the irony of drug problem in the U.S., or because he's laughing? Sadly, this kind of lazy writing spreads to all areas of the film. [/spoiler]

[spoiler] Inside the first 3 minutes of the Loving Pablo (the title sounds like it's a romantic memoir by one of Picasso's wives) we have this ridiculous intro, are shown Pablo Escobar's (Javier Bardem) terrible prosthetic stomach (it honestly looks as though they took a prosthetic pregnancy bump and painted hair on it), and discover that Pablo Escobar, his Columbian wife, a famous Columbian journalist, the Columbian Minister of justice, the Columbian Senate...are all going to speak **English** throughout the entire film. [/spoiler] I repeat: WTF!?

Add to these problems a script that is, at its absolute best, unremarkable but is frequently so clunky it hurts your ears, and a habit of showing the aftermath of the action but never the action itself. All of this combined makes me think the film was written and made by a pack of rabid filmmakers who were nose deep in "research" of Escobar's national product, and what we have here is s cautionary tale about how badly a drug addled mind works.

Just say, "No", kids.