Sounds Like Love

Madrid in the streaming era looks exactly like a high-end perfume commercial—all sun-drenched balconies, impeccably messy apartments, and people who seem to have a limitless budget for vintage scarves despite working as "assistants." In Sounds Like Love (Fuimos canciones), the 2021 Netflix-backed adaptation of Elísabet Benavent’s novels, the Spanish capital is less a city and more a shimmering stage for a millennial identity crisis. I watched this while trying to assemble a particularly stubborn IKEA shoe rack, and I have to admit, the film’s bright, saturated palette was a much-needed antidote to my growing frustration with Allen keys.

We are firmly in the age of the "Algorithm Rom-Com." You know the vibe: a protagonist who breaks the fourth wall (the Fleabag effect is inescapable here), a trio of distinct best friends who meet for drinks to dissect their trauma, and a production value so glossy you could slide right off the screen. But while it follows the blueprint of the post-pandemic streaming boom, there’s a specific, rhythmic charm to how director Juana Macías handles the wreckage of a broken heart.

The Art of the Relatably Messy Heroine

At the center is Maca, played by María Valverde (who some might remember from the moody Three Steps Above Heaven). Maca is 30, stuck in a dead-end job assisting a nightmare fashion influencer—Miri Pérez-Cabrero as Pipa, who is basically a human migraine in designer heels—and finally feels like she’s purged the ghost of her ex, Leo (Álex González). Of course, because the universe is cruel and loves a good plot twist, Leo strolls back into her life just as she’s stopped checking his Instagram.

María Valverde is the engine that keeps this movie from stalling. She has this wonderful, expressive face that sells the fourth-wall breaks without making them feel like a gimmick. When she looks at the camera and sighs, I felt that in my soul. She’s navigating that very "now" feeling of being technically an adult but feeling like you’re still wearing your parents’ clothes. The film captures the specific anxiety of the 2020s: the pressure to be a "boss babe" while your personal life is a literal dumpster fire.

Then there’s the ex. Álex González is undeniably handsome, but in a way that feels almost dangerous to the plot—he has the emotional depth of a very attractive lukewarm latte. You understand why Maca is terrified of him, not because he’s a villain, but because he’s a void she previously tried to fill with her own personality. Their chemistry is fine, but the movie is much more interested in Maca’s internal recalibration than the actual romance, which is a refreshing pivot for a genre that usually prioritizes the "happily ever after" over "getting your head straight."

Friendship as the True North

The secret sauce of Sounds Like Love isn’t the boy; it’s the girls. Maca’s best friends, Jimena and Adriana, get subplots that occasionally threaten to be more interesting than the main narrative. Elisabet Casanovas (Jimena) is a standout, playing a woman obsessed with the "reincarnation" of her dead boyfriend. It sounds macabre, but Casanovas plays it with such frantic, comedic energy that it works. Meanwhile, Susana Abaitua as Adriana explores the stifled reality of a "perfect" marriage that has turned into a roommate situation.

This is where the film leans into the contemporary shift in representation. It doesn't treat these women as mere accessories to Maca's journey. They have their own messy, unresolved issues with intimacy and identity that reflect a more modern, cynical—yet hopeful—view of life in your thirties. The dialogue, penned by Laura Sarmiento, feels snappy and authentic to how friends actually talk when they’ve reached the "no-filter" stage of a decade-long friendship.

A Product of the Streaming Wave

Released during the 2021 Netflix "Spanish Wave," Sounds Like Love arrived alongside a mountain of content like Valeria (also based on Benavent’s books) and Elite. It’s a film designed for the "Netflix and Chill" generation—easy to digest, aesthetically pleasing, and perfect for social media screengrabs. It doesn't reinvent the wheel, and it certainly doesn't escape the tropes of the fashion-industry comedy—honestly, the assistant-to-the-influencer trope is the new 'Devil Wears Prada' and it’s getting a bit dusty.

However, the film’s technical polish is undeniable. The cinematography by Pau Esteve Birba makes Madrid look like a dream you don’t want to wake up from. The editing is quick, keeping the 110-minute runtime from dragging, even when the plot dips into some fairly predictable territory. It’s a movie that knows its audience: people who want to feel seen in their chaos but want that chaos to be color-coordinated.

Sounds Like Love is like a great pop song—it’s not going to change your life, but you’ll probably find yourself humming along anyway. It captures the frantic energy of contemporary adulthood with enough charm to overlook its more formulaic beats. If you’ve ever had an ex-boyfriend show up and ruin a perfectly good Tuesday, this one is for you. Just don't expect a masterpiece; enjoy it for the stylish, heartfelt distraction it is.