How to laugh at all minorities and get away with it: ‘Palermo Division’, the Netflix comedy phenomenon

“Nowadays you can no longer make jokes about [inserte aquí una minoría social]”. Possibly you have ever heard this cry of antiwokeism, or worse, you have released it yourself. What if the offended, what if the generation of glass, that not even a joke is allowed with how funny the sissy jokes were! of Arévalo! Well, it turns out that no, that you can, you just have to do it well, as it does ‘Palermo Division’, an Argentine Netflix comedy that little by little it is conquering the top of the Spanish-speaking countries of the platform (and that it is gaining entry among the best comedy series on Netflix). It has been liked so much that, oh surprise, it has even been renewed for a second season. But what is behind this great little phenomenon?

Created and starring Santiago Korovsky, the series introduces us to a somewhat peculiar municipal police patrol: its selection process seeks that the members form part of a minority (a blind man, a woman in a wheelchair, a racialized immigrant, a man with achondroplasia, a fat man, an old man…), with a more propagandistic than inclusive purpose. And then, with such a cast of characters, he has no shame when it comes to making incisive jokes about it, but without forgetting to give them humanity and not remain cliché. The protagonist, Felipe Rozenfeld, enters this group, who unlike the rest he is a common, if somewhat dimwitted, normative cishetero man who arrives at the job interview by mistake, after his girlfriend leaves him and he runs out of work. In a very funny dialogue, the policemen in charge of selecting the members of the patrol see potential in the boy, but they wonder if it is convenient to sign him without belonging to any excluded group; His last name is Jewish and that’s a minority, one points out, but you can’t see that in the photo, answers the other. It is convenient to put a hat of those that the Jews wear so that it is noticed.

Putting all these characters together is not only an act of irreverence on the part of ‘División Palermo’, but also a criticism of neoliberalism that intends to use certain groups for the photo. Because, as we see in the series, the photo is very important in politics, even more than solving the problems of these people or others. In reality, the photo of inclusion is used to cover up other political shame and repression, although this is only something that underlies criticism and at no time is ‘Palermo Division’ perceived as pamphleteering or moralizing. On the contrary, it is a funny and sharp series that even those who hide their true phobias behind the flag of political incorrectness will embrace, but it will not be hurtful because it is clear where the humor is pointing and who is the butt of the joke. If the limits of humor were a fine circus rope, the series is balancing on it. And it is not easy to achieve, of course.

However, ‘División Palermo’ is not left alone in a succession of comic gags and jokes about disability. His proposal weaves together the day-to-day of this particular work environment and the misadventures of the loser protagonist with a police plot that navigates the mundane thriller with traces of violence and also plays with romantic comedy at times. Action, love, humor, well stirred. Without becoming a series that moves based on cliffhanger, He does not forget to always finish his episodes on a high, although that is not the most important thing. It is his expertise in keeping us smiling and making us laugh from time to time, offending everyone without offending anyone. Because minorities here are not an object, but a subject; there is no goodness or guilt, there is an intelligent look at our world, authorial and fresh.

As the Argentines would say, ‘División Palermo’ is a series to make you laugh. Although not only that. The bad? It’s only eight episodes. Fortunately, there will be more.