The Gardener (El Jardinero) on Netflix – the garden where death makes flowers bloom

I just finished watching The Gardener (El Jardinero) on Netflix — and I have to say, I can still feel it, even though I devoured it in just two days. It was a quiet Tuesday evening, with Greuceanu at my parents’ house, the home wrapped in deep stillness. In a moment of gentle curiosity, I hit play. Six episodes later, I found myself in that unique kind of silence — not necessarily one of satisfaction, but the kind you fall into when you know you’ve experienced something meaningful.

This is one of those limited series that pulls you in more through its atmosphere than its pace. And for me, the Spanish language was exactly the right seasoning: sensual, tense, at times heartbreaking. Although The Gardener only has six episodes, I felt the story would have been more powerful condensed into four. It feels stretched — not boring, but with moments where the narrative drowns in its own poetry.

At its core, The Gardener is a story about death. But not physical death — not the brutal kind. It’s about emotional death. The kind that happens when someone is never truly allowed to live. Elmer is a contract killer raised in isolation, psychologically conditioned by his controlling mother — La China Jurado, portrayed with haunting composure by Cecilia Suárez. She taught him how to kill. She shaped his every reaction, every gesture. And Elmer, obedient to the core, became a tool of precision: executing, digging, burying — cold as stone, with a face carved from marble.

His mother made him efficient, emotionless. A gardener by day, a killer in the shadows. A child torn from himself, an adult frozen in a trauma long past. And his garden? A lush grave. That’s where the bodies lie — the ones he’s killed. The corpses become fertilizer. The soil feeds life through death. A chilling metaphor for his entire existence. I even stumbled upon a scientific article about how plants grow differently in soil enriched with human remains — and it struck me deeply: sometimes reality is closer to fiction than we care to believe.

The story takes on a new intensity with the arrival of Violeta — a seemingly fragile woman who isn’t easy to read. Elmer is ordered to kill her. And yet something in her unsettles him. A gesture. A glance. A silence. Perhaps it’s the first time someone has looked at him with genuine curiosity — not as a machine. And so, slowly, without any dramatic explosion, Elmer begins to feel. He doesn’t understand the knot forming in his chest. He’s not in love — not yet. After all, someone who’s never been loved doesn’t learn love overnight. But he feels. And for him, that is a revolution.

When a man who hasn’t felt anything in 25 years begins to stir, an entire world collapses inside him. From that point on, the series no longer speaks about crime — it speaks about identity. About what it means to live a life that was never your own, and to taste, for the first time, the bittersweet truth of free will.

The Gardener is not a fast-paced show. It doesn’t have that addictive rhythm that makes you cry, “Just one more episode!” On the contrary, it demands that you slow down, sit with Elmer, and sink into those heavy states of guilt, confusion, and rediscovery. And although the story sometimes seems to stall, you can’t look away. Maybe it’s the atmosphere. Maybe it’s the symbolism. Or maybe it’s the quiet game of details, hidden among rosemary bushes and damp earth.

Elmer isn’t likable. But he’s human. And when his humanity begins to awaken, it breaks you.

The Gardener isn’t for everyone. It’s not commercial. It’s not explosive. It’s dark, slow, at times heavy. But it’s poetic. It leaves in your mouth the bitter taste of the questions that truly matter: Who am I, if not what I was told to be? Can I love, if I’ve never been loved? When does a truly lived life begin?

All in all? It’s not a masterpiece. It’s well shot, well acted, but average in terms of pacing and structure. And yet… I liked it. For the details, the symbols, the uniquely Spanish atmosphere where silence speaks louder than a page of dialogue.

I didn’t just like it because I love the Spanish language or because I’m drawn to complex characters. I liked it because it made me feel — alongside a man who was never allowed to feel anything. And if a series can do that — open a window into a heart that’s been locked away — then it has done its job.

The ending leaves room for a continuation, but so far Netflix hasn’t confirmed a second season. If it does come, it probably won’t be before the end of 2026.

Until then, I’m left with the image of Elmer’s garden. Green, beautiful, blooming. And nourished by death.