It’s a truth universally acknowledged that some literary projects are simply not meant to be reimagined as feature films or television series. Or, at least, it used to be. Now, with successful adaptations of previously deemed “unfilmable” classics like Gabriel García Márquez’s “One Hundred Years of Solitude” and Frank Herbert’s “Dune” finding their way to screens both large and small, what was once termed impossible is suddenly both thrilling and necessary.
Like García Márquez’s Nobel Prize-winning novel, Isabel Allende’s “The House of the Spirits” is considered one of the foundational texts of magical realism, mixing both fantastical and quotidian elements to tell the story of four generations in the lives of a single family and those who weave in and out of their world. The novel was adapted as a feature film in 1993, but its star-studded cast of bizarrely miscast Anglo actors and limited run time didn’t do the depth of the book’s story any favors. But with the release of Prime Video’s lavish eight-part streaming adaptation, Allende’s classic is finally given the prestige treatment it has long deserved.
Told in Spanish and featuring a cast from across both Latin America and Spain, the series feels authentic, lived-in, and, yes, magical from its first moments. Its lush sets, sweeping landscapes, and colorful interiors are both visually striking and narratively significant, interspersed with depictions of the post-colonial political upheaval at work across South America. Showrunners Francisca Alegría, Fernanda Urrejola, and Andrés Wood eagerly embrace Allende’s themes of love, memory, and justice, even as they delve into some of the novel’s darkest subplots without flinching. It’s not a perfect adaptation by any stretch, but this “The House of the Spirits” is a remarkably tenacious and ambitious attempt.
Set in an unnamed Latin American country that bears multiple unsubtle parallels to early 20th-century Chile, the events of “The House of the Spirits” unfold across the better part of a hundred years, mixing fiction and allegorized events from Allende’s own family history.
The story begins with the Del Valle clan, whose youngest daughter, Clara (portrayed by Francesca Turco, Nicole Wallace, and Dolores Fonzi at various points), has clairvoyant abilities that allow her to communicate with spirits and predict the future. When her beloved older sister, Rosa the Beautiful (Chiara Parravicini), tragically dies from poison meant for their politician father (Eduard Fernández), Clara retreats into silence, refusing to speak for the better part of the next decade. She reclaims her voice in time to meet and wed Rosa’s former fiancé, Esteban Trueba (Alfonso Herrera), a poor miner turned wealthy hacienda owner whose ambition, materialism, and penchant for violence will fuel much of the story to come.
As the years pass, the series not only follows Clara’s story but also those of her daughter, Blanca (Sara Becker and Urrejola), and granddaughter, Alba (Rochi Hernández), whose lives are continually shaped and affected by the choices of the generations that have preceded them. Meanwhile, Esteban continues his climb up the ranks of the Conservative Party, and the family is continually drawn into the (occasionally violent) political upheaval unfolding across the country, with several members finding themselves on opposite sides of the debate.
Book fans will undoubtedly be perturbed that “The House of the Spirits” makes some fairly significant changes to the source material, fully excising a fairly major member of the Trueba family, softening some of the story’s more overt political elements in its earliest episodes, and altering several key details of the novel’s ending. Yet the Prime Video drama remains remarkably faithful to the spirit of Allende’s work, leaning into themes of fate, class, memory, resilience, and hope as it weaves a tale of political and personal turmoil across generations.
But while the series incorporates many of the more charming supernatural and fantastical elements of magical realism that Allende helped to pioneer, this is not a story for the faint of heart. “The House of the Spirits” contains multiple instances of sexual assault, torture, psychological abuse, domestic violence, and murder. (There’s even a grisly animal death fairly early on.) Some of these scenes, particularly in the show’s later episodes, are downright brutal to watch, and the story is clear-eyed about the damage that cycles of generational trauma wreak on the Trueba family and those around them.
This “House of the Spirits” is also unabashedly feminist in its politics—perhaps even more overtly than the novel at times—as its female characters, across class lines, push back against aspects of the patriarchy that oppress them. The cast is excellent across the board: Wallace boasts an ethereal glow as the young adult Clara, whose kind and often otherworldly nature offers a stark contrast to Esteban’s overt and unapologetic cruelty. Fonzi’s older version, by contrast, is demonstrably stranger, but more at peace with herself and her unique way of existing in the world. Elsewhere, Hernandez’s Alba perfectly balances the girl’s more modern youthful idealism and strident stubbornness, while Fernanda Castillo is furious and heartbreaking by turns as Treuba’s spinster sister, Férula.
But it is Hernandez, the only actor to appear in all eight episodes, who is perhaps most impressive, playing a character shaped by a lifetime of brutality and anger who turns that pain outward onto everyone around him. It is easy to imagine a version of Esteban Trueba that is little more than a caricature, a bad man and selfish politician who gleefully revels in his power for its own sake. Instead, Hernandez manages to find glimpses of humanity in the story’s most monstrous figure, even as his love for Clara and, later, for Alba, is often not enough to temper his worst and/or most violent impulses.
Like the book it is based on, “The House of the Spirits” is not always an easy or particularly accessible tale, especially for those unfamiliar with the complex geopolitical history of the region in which it is set. But it remains a deeply moving and satisfying story in its own right, and a strong example of the ambitious content the streaming era once promised us. It’s nice to know it still can.
All eight episodes screened for review. Premieres April 29 on Prime Video.
