Narcos: Mexico Christian Review

If there’s one thing Narcos: Mexico does well, it’s pulling you into the heart of chaos. Right from the start, it makes it clear that this story isn’t just about drugs or power; it’s about an entire nation caught in the jaws of a monster it didn’t see coming. The 1980s in Mexico was a time of shadows—the kind of shadows that crept into every corner of society, darkened the streets, and blurred the lines between right and wrong. The show doesn’t shy away from painting this picture, nor does it flinch at showing us the men who built that darkness brick by bloody brick. For Christian viewers, this isn’t just a show; it’s a deeply unsettling reminder of what happens when power, greed, and sin are left unchecked.

A War Between Two Men

The show’s pulse comes from the conflict between two men: Michael Peña’s Kiki Camarena and Diego Luna’s Félix Gallardo. They’re complete opposites, really. Kiki is the kind of character you want to root for—the straight-laced, do-gooder DEA agent who just wants to do his job. He’s not a man of vengeance or bravado; he’s a family man with a simple purpose, and yet that simple purpose is like a fuse. The closer he gets to uncovering the drug operation’s secrets, the more that fuse shortens. And you know, deep down, this isn’t going to end well.

On the other side, there’s Félix. Diego Luna plays him like a quiet storm, always simmering but rarely showing his full strength. He’s not your typical villain—no erratic outbursts, no showy violence. His power is in his ability to stay calm, to think five steps ahead of everyone else. What’s terrifying is that you can’t help but admire his intelligence. You know what he’s building is monstrous, but still, when he tightens his grip on the cartel, part of you marvels at how smooth and calculated he is. And therein lies the danger of Narcos: Mexico—it can make you forget, just for a second, who the bad guy is.

For Christians, this is a cautionary tale wrapped in suspense. It’s a reminder that evil doesn’t always wear a snarling face or wield a machete. Sometimes, it wears a suit, sits at a desk, and uses words as weapons. Félix’s charm is deadly precisely because it’s so disarming, so civilized. You see him treat his family with respect, negotiate with politicians like a diplomat, and you think, “Maybe he’s not so bad.” But make no mistake: his empire is built on the corpses of the innocent.

The Game of Power

The show’s true story, though, is the power struggle. It’s not just between Kiki and Félix, but between every major and minor player in the drug world and law enforcement. Narcos: Mexico doesn’t have one main character; it has a web of them, each one struggling for a piece of control. There are crooked cops, backstabbing politicians, and desperate traffickers, all pulling strings and making deals in smoke-filled rooms. You never know who’s on whose side, who’s really in charge, or what’s going to happen next.

And that’s where the show becomes not just a drama, but almost a thriller. You’re constantly on edge, waiting for the moment when someone slips up, when an alliance falls apart, or when a bullet ends a character’s arc. But it’s not gratuitous. Every death, every betrayal is purposeful. It’s there to remind you that in this world, power is everything. And if you don’t have it, you’re just a pawn waiting to be sacrificed.

For a Christian audience, this is a stark contrast to what we’re called to pursue. Jesus said, “What does it profit a man to gain the whole world, yet forfeit his soul?” (Mark 8:36). Narcos: Mexico is filled with people who are so desperate for a piece of the world that they’ll sell their souls—and everyone else’s—just to get it. Watching it unfold is like watching a slow-motion car crash. You can’t look away, but you know it’s going to end in disaster.

The Violence of Reality

Then there’s the violence. It’s impossible to talk about Narcos: Mexico without addressing its brutality. The show doesn’t pull any punches—literally or figuratively. From the grisly executions to the tense standoffs, the violence is relentless. But here’s the thing: it’s never glamorized. Unlike some crime dramas that turn violence into spectacle, Narcos makes you feel the weight of every death. When someone gets killed, you’re not cheering. You’re cringing, flinching, feeling the horror of it. The camera doesn’t cut away from the aftermath, either. It lingers, showing the empty eyes, the blood-soaked shirts, the families left to grieve. And as a viewer, you’re left grappling with a sickening question: How can this level of evil exist in the world?

For Christians, this can be hard to stomach. We’re told to focus on what is “pure, lovely, and admirable” (Philippians 4:8), and Narcos is the opposite of that. But it’s also a brutal reminder of the brokenness of our world. This isn’t just fiction—it’s a dramatized version of real events, real people. And that means the violence has a purpose. It’s there to make you uncomfortable, to remind you that these aren’t just characters—they’re reflections of real, lost souls caught in a cycle of destruction.

A Battle Without Heroes

What makes Narcos: Mexico unique is its refusal to give you a hero. Even Kiki, the most morally upright character, isn’t painted as a flawless crusader. He’s just a man trying to do his best, and sometimes his best isn’t enough. The show doesn’t give you the satisfaction of seeing good triumph over evil. It doesn’t tie things up neatly or offer easy solutions. Instead, it leaves you with the unsettling truth that in a world like this, everyone loses.

And that’s perhaps what makes Narcos: Mexico so compelling—and so devastating. There’s no hope of a happy ending. The drug war didn’t end in the 80s; it’s still tearing Mexico apart today. Watching the show is like looking into a pit of darkness, knowing that the monsters are real and they’re still out there. But for Christians, there’s a sobering lesson in this. We’re not called to pretend that evil doesn’t exist. We’re called to face it, to name it, and to fight against it—not with guns and power, but with truth and love.

The Verdict

So where does that leave us? Narcos: Mexico is a gripping, intelligent show. It’s well-acted, beautifully shot, and meticulously crafted. But it’s also heavy, dark, and unrelenting. For Christian viewers, it’s not a show to binge lightly. It’s a show that requires discernment, caution, and a willingness to wrestle with some very uncomfortable truths. If you choose to watch, don’t let the suspense or the storytelling pull you in too deeply. Remember who you are and what you stand for. Because in the end, Narcos isn’t just about the drug war—it’s about the war for the human soul.

Final Rating: 6.5/10. It’s powerful and thought-provoking, but not for the faint of heart. Approach it with caution, and don’t let yourself get swept up in the darkness. Watch it not just as a viewer, but as a witness to the true cost of sin.