Ever seen a country’s soul get ripped out on live TV?
That’s Colombia, 1994.
“The Two Escobars” serves up a cocktail of drug lords, soccer stars, and national heartbreak that’ll knock you on your ass.
It’s like watching a train wreck in slow motion, except the train is made of cocaine and the wreck lasts an entire decade.
It’s a gripping look at how one wrong kick on the field could mean the difference between life and death.
Trailer for “The Two Escobars”
Watch “The Two Escobars”
You can watch “The Two Escobars” on:
- Netflix at https://www.netflix.com/title/70137756
- ESPN via YouTube at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yFQuBe7fagY (for $1.99 to $2.99 last time I checked)
- ESPN+ (this is only if you’re a paid member) through https://www.espn.com/watch/catalog/6d2f1740-12ce-4378-b024-07fc214fa311/the-two-escobars (ESPN+ is $10.99/month last I checked)
You can find the latest streaming options at https://www.justwatch.com/us/movie/the-two-escobars
Ratings:
- My Rating: 95/100
- IMDB Rating: 8.1/10
- Rotten Tomatoes Ratings: 97/100 (Users); 85/100 (Critics)
Release Date: April 22, 2010
My Review of “The Two Escobars”
“The Two Escobars” is a story where soccer, crime, and politics collide in explosive ways.
Directed by Jeff and Michael Zimbalist, this 104-minute was the 16th episode of ESPN’s “30 for 30” series.
The doc dives into the intertwining lives of two men who shared a last name but lived worlds apart—Pablo Escobar, the infamous drug lord, and Andrés Escobar, a celebrated Colombian soccer star.
This film transports you to Colombia during the 1980s and 1990s. Pablo Escobar, notorious for leading the Medellín cartel, turned the country into a battleground.
He was responsible for countless deaths but also for a peculiar kind of philanthropy. His money built hospitals, schools, and soccer fields, earning him a Robin Hood-like reputation among the poor.
On the flip side, there’s Andrés Escobar, the “Gentleman of Football.” He embodied the hope and pride of a nation desperate for a hero.
In 1994, he played in the World Cup with the Colombian national team, a squad considered one of the best in the world.
But one mistake would change everything. Andrés accidentally scored an own goal against the United States, contributing to Colombia’s early exit from the tournament.
Just days after returning home, Andrés was shot and killed. Many believe his death was retribution for that fateful mistake.
The film expertly weaves these two narratives together.
You see how Pablo’s drug money fueled the rise of Colombian soccer, turning local teams into global contenders. But the very same money that built the sport also brought with it an undercurrent of violence and corruption.
The Zimbalist brothers don’t shy away from the ugly details. They take you inside the stadiums and backrooms where deals were made, lives were lost, and dreams were shattered.
I like the rawness of the cinematography — it blends archival footage with candid interviews.
You hear from Andrés’ teammates, Pablo’s associates, and journalists who witnessed it all. These voices give the story a pulse, a sense of urgency that grips you from the start.
And there are colorful characters
Take for instance Francisco Maturana.
He’s the philisophical coach of the Colombian national team. He transformed Colombian soccer but was caught in the crossfire between the drug lords and his players.
His life was constantly in danger, yet he led his team with an almost stoic calm.
The film reveals how he once received a phone call from one of Pablo’s men, offering “protection” if he would let certain players start in matches.
Maturana refused, risking everything for the integrity of the game.
Another gripping moment comes from the story of John Jairo Velásquez, aka “Popeye,” one of Pablo’s most feared hitmen.
He openly discusses the power Pablo wielded over the soccer world.
Popeye claims that the team’s success was non-negotiable for Pablo, making losses unacceptable and dangerous.
The implications are chilling, suggesting that every goal, every pass on the field, had life-or-death stakes.
And I love René Higuita, the eccentric goalkeeper with his “Scorpion Kick”!
The Zimbalists also delve into the psyche of Colombia as a nation.
You see how soccer became an escape for the people, a distraction from the violence that permeated their daily lives. Yet, even this beloved sport wasn’t immune to the reach of the cartels.
The film touches on how fans became pawns in the larger game of power and influence — stadiums often turn into venues for intimidation rather than celebration.
One particularly poignant anecdote involves Andrés Escobar’s decision to return to Colombia after the World Cup.
Despite warnings to stay away, he believed in his country and its people.
His death is a stark reminder of the fragility of hope in a land ruled by fear.
Yet, “The Two Escobars” is not just a tale of doom and gloom. It’s also a story about resilience.
You see it in the faces of those who survived, who kept playing, kept cheering, kept living, despite the shadows that loomed over them.
Andrés’ death sparked outrage, but it also ignited a movement against the violence that had plagued Colombia for so long.
In the end, “The Two Escobars” isn’t just about two men.
It’s about a country at war with itself, and the ways in which its people sought to reclaim their identity through sport, even when that sport was tainted by blood money.
Thanks for reading!
Rob Kelly, Chief Maniac, Daily Doc