In the vast, often sanitized landscape of childrenâs television, there are shows that educate, shows that entertain, and then there is 31 minutos . Created by the Chilean collective Aplaplac, this puppet-led news magazineâwhich first aired in 2003âisn't just a program; it's a anarchic masterpiece of surrealist humor, sharp satire, and surprisingly poignant songwriting.
The movie 31 minutos: La PelĂcula (2008) and the recent Netflix specials. But start with Season 1, Episode 1. The news is about to begin. 31 minutos
31 minutos is not a nostalgia trip; it is a living, breathing work of art that remains as funny and relevant today as it was two decades ago. It is The Office meets The Muppets meets a fever dream about journalism. In the vast, often sanitized landscape of childrenâs
On its surface, the premise is simple: a nightly news broadcast hosted by the eternally vain and neurotic Juan Carlos Bodoque (a rabbit with a pillowy red nose and the soul of a beleaguered journalist). Alongside him are reporters Tulio Triviño (a pompous, bow-tied lion), Patana (the competent, long-suffering production assistant), and Mario Hugo (the existentialist, potato-obsessed camera man). But start with Season 1, Episode 1
Rating: â â â â â (5/5)
"CalcetĂn con Romero" (Sock with Rosemary) is a psychedelic folk tune about a sock that smells like the herb. It makes absolutely no sense, yet you will find yourself humming it in the shower for a decade. The showâs ability to make you weep over a song about a lonely dog ( "Bailando Sin Salir de Casa" ) is a testament to its writers' emotional intelligence.
Letâs address the elephant in the puppet theater: the songs. 31 minutos has produced some of the catchiest, most emotionally complex music in Latin American pop culture. From the melancholic resignation of "Mi Equipaje" (My Luggage) to the defiant celebration of weirdness in "Yo Nunca Vi TelevisiĂłn" (I Never Watched Television), these are not throwaway ditties.