‘Unspeakable Sins’ (2025) Netflix Series Review - A Darkly Electric and Seductive Soap-Thriller

Let’s be honest, when I clicked “play” on Unspeakable Sins, I expected to be mildly entertained, maybe a little scandalized, and ideally done with the whole thing in a weekend. What I didn’t expect was to be 18 episodes deep into a rabbit hole of murder, manipulation, weirdly aggressive makeout sessions, and a woman giving Gone Girl a run for her money, and still unsure whether I loved or loathed what I’d just watched. But that’s Unspeakable Sins for you: equal parts magnetic and maddening.

At the center of this turbocharged drama is Helena. She’s rich, married, and miserable, three traits that Netflix is increasingly treating as synonymous. Her husband Claudio, a charismatic control freak with the emotional intelligence of a brick wall, treats her more like ornamental property than a partner. It’s the kind of marriage where silence weighs more than words and eye contact feels like psychological warfare. Naturally, Helena does what all repressed characters in slow-burning erotic thrillers eventually do: she cheats.

Enter Ivan, younger, scruffier, apparently jobless but somehow always dressed like a GQ model. He’s not just a rebound; he’s a full-blown escape plan with abs. Their chemistry starts steamy and turns strategic when they realize they share a common enemy: Claudio. From that point, Unspeakable Sins becomes less of a love story and more of a live-action chess match, with each character plotting, seducing, and backstabbing their way to emotional dominance.

And here’s where things start to get deliciously complicated. Claudio isn’t just a passive aggressor; he’s a full-fledged antagonist with secrets stashed like vintage wine. Just when you think you’ve pegged him as the abusive husband archetype, he retaliates with moves that make you question who’s actually orchestrating the chaos. The cat-and-mouse dynamic isn’t limited to the lovers. Everyone is someone’s pawn, and half the fun is watching alliances shift faster than the show’s hairstyles.

There’s a clear effort here to elevate the telenovela template into a high-octane thriller. And to some extent, it works. The production design is slick, all glass walls and dark corridors that scream “emotional repression with a touch of champagne.” The dialogue swerves between biting and melodramatic, occasionally making you wonder if someone’s secretly live-translating Shakespeare through a soap opera filter. Helena’s one-liners alone are enough to make you wish the show had merch.

But let’s not get carried away. For all its polish and plotting, Unspeakable Sins is not above tripping on its own stilettos. The series runs a marathon with a sprint’s energy. By episode nine, you start to feel the weight of every slow zoom, every dramatic pause, every sigh that could’ve been a sentence. The twists keep coming, murder attempts, faked deaths, hidden cameras, but not all of them feel earned. It’s as if the writers were too terrified of a lull, so they stuffed every second with events instead of letting tension breathe.

And then there’s the romance. Helena and Ivan’s relationship begins with a believable simmer, but somewhere along the way, the heat gets replaced by narrative utility. Their scenes shift from sensuous to functional: he’s her escape plan, she’s his meal ticket, and neither of them seems particularly good at hiding it. Their emotional arcs are murky at best. We know what they’re doing, but not always why. It’s hard to root for a couple that might be using each other more than loving each other. Then again, maybe that’s the point.

The performances are a mixed bag, albeit a well-dressed one. Zuria Vega brings a compelling intensity to Helena; she’s not always likable, but she’s consistently fascinating. There’s a certain satisfaction in watching her evolve from trophy wife to calculating vixen, even if the show occasionally confuses complexity with moodiness. Erik Hayser’s Claudio walks the line between villain and victim with eerie grace. He has the kind of face that makes you believe he could both fund a charity and blackmail your therapist in the same afternoon. As for Andrés Baida’s Ivan… he’s there. He looks good. He sometimes looks like he knows what show he’s in. Sometimes.

What Unspeakable Sins does undeniably well is maintain momentum. Despite its bloated length and some repetitive beats, there’s always something brewing. Whether it’s a secret pregnancy, a hidden agenda, or just someone watching someone else from behind a curtain for no apparent reason, the show knows how to tease tension. It never lets you forget that everyone here has something to lose or hide.

Yet for all the intrigue, there’s an emotional hollowness that lingers. The stakes are high, but the feelings often aren’t. It’s a show that tells you people are in danger, but doesn’t always make you feel it. You might be shocked, but you won’t necessarily care. And maybe that’s the biggest unspeakable sin of all, giving us characters we want to watch but not necessarily root for.

Still, Unspeakable Sins is a guilty pleasure in the most literal sense. It’s not here to be profound; it’s here to keep you watching at 2 a.m. while you say, “Okay, just one more episode,” and then lie to yourself. It’s indulgent, it’s excessive, and it absolutely knows it. This is not a show that stumbled into drama; it dove headfirst into a crystal-clear pool of it, probably while wearing silk pajamas and clutching a murder weapon.

In the end, Unspeakable Sins is what happens when a thriller dresses up like a soap opera, raids a murder mystery party, and brings tequila to a book club. Half of it works, half of it makes you roll your eyes, but all of it begs to be watched. It may not earn your respect, but it’ll definitely steal your weekend.

Final Score- [5/10]
Reviewed by - Anjali Sharma
Follow @AnjaliS54769166 on Twitter
Publisher at Midgard Times