Netflix has a great collection of documentary series, but it tends to lump many together with dark visions of murder and psychopaths or cults. More proposals like ‘(P)Ícaro: Little Nicolás are missing‘ which is an investigative journalistic work in itself that uses an element of recent Spanish pop culture to cut deeper slices of the functioning of the state.
In its first episode it enters fully into the intriguing story of Francisco Nicolás Gómez Iglesias, a young man who infiltrated the upper echelons of Spanish society and whose cunning (and cheek) allowed him to weave through the ranks of politicians, millionaires and even royalty. Through his charm, “Fran” suddenly uncovered some scandals and his case not only exposes mechanisms of power, influence and ambition, but also allows us to observe certain shadows of the dirtiest framework of the governments of the last decade. .
In its first stages, everything is fun and played in the montage with resources from the cinema of Guy Ritchie or Soderbergh, to present the amazing journey of a teenager capable of penetrating the most intimate circles of the Spanish elite. Structured in three chapters, this unpublished look analyzes all the controversy and scandal of his time in the institutions, offering a detailed account of Nicolás’s interactions with the most powerful figures in Spain through interviews and exclusive images and first-hand testimonies of who knew the boy best.
Rogue or pawn used by the state?
There are stories from politicians, victims, acquaintances and even figures as shady as Commissioner Villarejo, all interspersed with a great interview with the scammer himself. Together, both the quotes and the abundant archival material give a multifaceted view of his exploits that not only paint a complete picture of Nicolás’s life and the consequences of his actions, but also studies the foundations of some dirty structures of political partiesnot just the dynamics of power and influence, but the goings-on that we don’t see.
The ambition of Nicolás, who began his career as public relations in nightclubs, soon led him to exploit the blind spots of the Spanish sociopolitical sphere, maneuvering in exclusive circles, leaving a trail of confusion and revealing the vulnerabilities and loopholes of the networks that Nicolás took advantage of it to his advantage, adding a rich cultural layer on the political and social dynamics of the country that is the key in the most interesting part of the documentary, where the figure of the rogue even recedes into the background.
It soon becomes clear that ‘(Rogue) Icarus: Little Nicholas’ is not so interested in how he managed to insinuate himself among influential politicians, magnates and even royalty, although there is a good study of his complex psyche and narcissistic motivations. In reality, the bulk of the documentary is the political intrigue of the backdrop, which suggests that Nicolás was a convenient piece to spy on different personalities through his children, who were mostly acquaintances and friends of a boy who “went very high” as he himself said.
Beyond the story of a climber
However, the intricate relationship between power and deception reveals the true impact of Nicolás’ actions on the political landscape. The roots of the media frenzy that followed, and how it could have been driven by black hands and with interests in various parts. There is an interesting part that shows how a young man without higher education can mock the ruling class, revealing the absurd fragility of the power elite in Spain.
But the story takes true shape when it transcends the individual and fits together with other key events of those years, such as the abdication of the King or the performances in Catalonia. The social mechanisms and shortcuts of power are well represented by Nicolás’s uncontrolled ambition, but the fact that his case revealed many dirty laundry of the police, the popular party (which did not want to participate) or the CNI, raises debates about broader issues such as citizens’ confidence in power.
Overall, ‘(P)Ícaro: Little Nicolás’ is three exciting hours that, under the analysis of a media case and a character who could join Dioni and other freak fauna of Spanish society from another era, is a perfect complement for the masterful graphic novel ‘Spring in Madrid’ and, above all, reveals another new piece of the network connected to the Villarejo case, which could be uncovered thanks to the goings-on of Nicolás. From ‘Riot Police’ to ‘The Curse of Windsorthere is no event in the recent history of Spain where the commissioner does not appear, who would deserve a series all to himself, although he would surely need several seasons to begin to scratch the minimum of his black hand.
