Netflix’s “La Flor Más Bella” Is Not Your Typical Teen Show

“La flor más bella/The Most Beautiful Flower” is Netflix’s newest teen sequence and in some ways, it looks as if your typical coming-of-age story. The ten-part sequence follows underdog Mich as she units out to beat highschool. But the present is evident from the very starting that it is distinct. It’s set in Mexico, advised in Spanish, and focused to anybody who’s ever felt completely different.

“Having a curvy, brunette, Mexican protagonist who embraces popular and folkloric traditions and customs, and who also knows she is fabulous and is proud to be all of that, representing so many, it’s the best revolution,” says present co-creator Michelle Rodríguez. “La flor más bella” is loosely based mostly on her life, rising up in Xochimilco, a neighborhood in Mexico City well-known for its canals and colourful barges.

According to government producer and Campanario Entertainment’s co-founder Jaime Dávila, Netflix initially reached out desirous to do a YA present set in Mexico. So he tapped his community, who rapidly nominated comic Rodríguez. “She just made us laugh, which is already really the most important thing. And then secondly, everything she represented and everything she was saying was so powerful to us,” Dávila tells POPSUGAR. “It felt really powerful for our community — giving Latinos the opportunity to talk about certain issues that maybe they don’t talk about.” Those points vary from classism to physique positivity, queer rights, and racism, including as much as a fairly completely different present than we’re used to seeing.

For Rodríguez, that distinction is simply her private expertise. “Sharing what I’ve learned along the way has always seemed to me like a great idea,” she explains. “And if doing so makes someone out there connect to me, to my story, and feel represented and motivated to keep going, then that’s an even greater incentive for me to do it.”

“This is a story about a young girl from Xochimilco — you can’t get more specific than that,” says Dávila. “But I think we’ve all been underestimated — I think we’ve all felt misunderstood — that’s universal. And so I hope that people, through the specificity of this young Mexican girl, also see themselves.” Asking audiences throughout the globe to see themselves in Mich’s particular circumstances looks like a giant leap ahead for Latina illustration.

Take, for instance, how “La flor más bella” portrays Mexico. For Rodríguez and Dávila, the brilliant, lovely Mexico of the present is just their fact. “Mexico is an enchanting place,” Rodríguez says. “When I started telling my story to the writer, Fernanda Eguiarte, she was fascinated by Xochimilco and the stories I lovingly told her of the place that raised me. Immediately, we decided that Xochimilco and Mexico would be important characters in this story. Showing a bright Mexico, where you can be who you are, is part of the invitation to feel proud of being who you are.”

For Dávila, it was additionally a political name. “Being a Mexican American meant, for me personally, being in Mexico a lot. And every time when I would come back, people would say ‘wow, what was it like? Was it really dangerous?’ And you’re like, ‘No, I was visiting my aunt’s. It’s a city, a normal city,'” he remembers. “The Mexico you see in media of drug wars and violence nonstop, it’s just not true. The Mexico that we shot in ‘La flor más bella’ is the Mexico I know. It’s vibrant, it’s beautiful, it’s diverse, it’s complicated.”

Part of that complication is race, class, and colorism — a tough topic the present would not shrink back from. In reality, Mich’s main antagonists are a bunch of white Mexicans in school. They’re the favored children and the bullies — their mild pores and skin granting all of them types of favors from their friends and their academics. One of them additionally occurs to be Mich’s cousin, Brenda, who antagonizes her prima nonstop. And even because the present units up Brenda because the villain, it is cautious to complicate that. Brenda could wield her energy cruelly in school however she’s caught with a homelife that had her develop up too quickly. Indeed, she’s jealous of Mich’s upbringing and her capacity to like herself regardless of society’s requirements.

“In Mexico, oftentimes, in your own family, you have different shades, you have different colors, and your family treats you differently as a result. I saw it in my own family. I see it with my grandma, God bless her,” recounts Dávila. When it involves Mexican illustration in movie, telenovelas, and even information anchors, the illustration has traditionally been on the lighter aspect. But “La flor más bella” challenges that, decentering the blonde prima for the darker, heavier Mich.

“People are so often judged by a cover and I just think it’s such a mistake,” says Dávila. There’s a plot within the present the place Mich, an incredible singer, and performer, desires the lead within the faculty musical. They’re doing a tackle “Alice in Wonderland” and the instructor prefers the blond, slender Alice of the Disney cartoon.

Mich would not let the drama instructor’s racist worldview cease her. With the assistance of her supporting mates, she asserts that she is Alice of Xochimilco and retains at it. Yes, typically she will get annoyed —particularly when her white boyfriend of a yr nonetheless refuses to take their relationship public or when she seems invisible in school — even to the principal. But that is Mich’s story and he or she is set to be the central character in her life, it doesn’t matter what the world throws at her.

“She is not a victim nor is she a character who is there purely for comedic relief. Having such a character is healing, inspiring, and powerful for all of us who have never felt represented on screen before. Recognizing that we are fabulous is something that we are not taught at school and sometimes not at home either,” explains Rodríguez. “That is why it is so important that this Mich shows everyone how fabulous she is, so that all those who see themselves reflected in her, know there’s nothing to be uncomfortable about. This is your body, live your life!”

As a excessive schooler, Mich is determining who she is. But whether or not she’s grappling with how others understand her physique, her personal sexuality, or the racial politics of Mexico — self-love stays. That’s actually the place the present finds its energy. “People should feel better about themselves and just love themselves. Because that’s the secret . . . and it’s hard, right? It’s really hard. It’s really challenging in a world where you’re getting so many messages from media, from your own family,” Dávila attests.

“Ever since I was a little girl, I dreamed of being an artist and I thought that I could not be in the television, music, and theater industry, because I rarely saw women like me,” says Rodríguez, explaining how society’s expectations affected her rising up. “‘The Most Beautiful Flower” is the sequence that I might have preferred to see as a baby and adolescent, even now I’m nonetheless letting the message this story conveys sink in. I hope the viewers connects with the story and with Mich who is aware of tips on how to have a good time variations and who believes that flaws might be superpowers.”

Mich’s self-love actually does really feel completely different from a coming-of-age heroine, and that is earlier than including in how the present normalizes Mexico, or the way it asks viewers to interact in advanced conversations round race, class, and sexuality in Latin American society. It questions who’s worthy of affection and why. Taken all collectively, these parts arrange a brand new kind of illustration. One, that as co-creator Rodríguez says, has the potential to be the most effective kind of revolution.