Narcos

A series that seeks to offer a unique perspective into an era many may not know about, a series grounded in enough humanity to elevate what might otherwise be easily stereotyped storytelling.

Thankfully, those voice-overs seem fewer this season, the better to concentrate on the show’s action, which is frequently startling and absorbing.

I think by the last of the six episodes I watched, I was more engaged than at any point in the first two seasons, despite the lack of Moura. If you're a Narcos fan, stick with the show through the place-setting opening and know that it finds its footing.

If that seemed like bravado at the time, the third season of Narcos has demonstrated that it's capable of reloading, recasting and, dramatically speaking, delivering the same high.

Narcos uses the downfall of the Cali syndicate in the late 1990s to rectify some of the first and second season’s more significant flaws while indulging in other over-the-top tendencies that make it a mainstay of the gangster drama genre. ... Pascal grants Javier a tangible earnestness and common grit Holbrook’s cowboy lacks, immediately making him a more captivating guide.

The elements that made Narcos so compelling in its first two seasons are all here: the familiar opening credits and music, lush cinematography and plenty of suspense as we get to know some of the new characters. Pascal stays true to form as the laconic Javy.

As with so many Netflix series these days, the season builds urgency at a slow pace that’s borderline alienating. Fortunately, employing its tried-and-true aesthetic--a docudrama visual approach; portentous narration; real-life documentary footage inserted into key moments--it hits its stride in Episode 4.