Welcome to Julio Torres’s Capitalist Hellscape

In Julio Torres’s new HBO series, Fantasmas, even the goldfish have careers — and subordinates to bully. “The mayor said that if people were expected to keep the waters clean, fish and other water folk should pull their weight with labor,” a snide pet detective named Dierdre explains to Julio, after he hires her to trace his lost oyster-shaped earring at the bottom of the sea. Off Dierdre goes, but not before raging at her sweaty human assistant, Bryce, like an aquatic Miranda Priestly.

Torres casts America, and New York City especially, as a never-ending maze of humiliations — a place where residents must debase themselves in front of bad bosses and faceless institutions just to survive. In his feature-length debut, Problemista, Torres starred as an aspiring toy designer from El Salvador named Alejandro who scurries to secure a new work visa after losing his job at a cryogenic lab. Alejandro crashes on his apartment’s couch while renting his bedroom on Airbnb, dabbles in sexwork, and tolerates the abuse of a venomous art critic. Against all odds, he succeeds. The bleaker Fantasmas is similarly concerned with creative exploitation and bureaucratic bullshit. Torres plays a version of himself — an offbeat dreamer whose job is just “Julio,” which involves consulting with Crayola on a clear crayon and fantasizing about the inner lives of the alphabet’s letters. (Indeed, this is all very Julio.) He’s running out of time. He’s about to be evicted from his apartment complex, which is being converted into a General Mills café and residency. He can’t rent another one without a new form of government ID known as a Proof of Existence; exceptions are only granted to people who are Beyoncé-famous. Or schmucks willing to prostitute themselves to multinational corporations by cynically capitalizing on their own “diversity.”

Fantasmas is a mini sketch series filmed like a low-budget horror, with claustrophobic settings and sickly yellow lighting. It follows Julio as he tries to track down his special earring and battles the erosion of his individuality; along the way, it zooms into the lives of characters he encounters both in real life and on his feeds. Almost all of them are in the business of entertainment, whether they’re a beleaguered theme-park superhero or a miffed elf in Santa’s factory. They are pawns in a system that promises wonder but only cares about profit — where corporations pump out shallow reboots while their greedy executives hoard wealth from the 99 percent.

But hats off to the good guys at HBO, I guess, for letting Fantasmas fly. It’s a spectacular outlet for Torres’s antic imagination, featuring the many friendly faces in the Julioverse, some of whom you may recognize from Los Espookys, Problemista, and Saturday Night Live. (What other show would cast Tilda Swinton as the mystical voice of toilet water?) Maybe capitalism can breed innovation, because the workers of Fantasmas have the most miraculously odd jobs imaginable. So we’ve compiled a handy guide to all of the bullshit — and some not-so-bullshit — jobs in the series.

This post will be updated weekly as new episodes air on HBO.

Photo: Atsushi Nishijima/HBO

Character: Vanesja, Performance Artist Whose Performance Is Being an Agent

Played by: Martine Gutierrez

Description: Samantha Jones, is that you? Vanesja — the j is silent — is the series’ femme fatale, a corporate siren who is adjacent to the creative industry but has the megawatt mystery of a movie star. She’s Julio’s agent — or, rather, she’s a “performance artist” masquerading as an agent. So she is either an immersive genius, scaredy-cat in denial of reality, or just a girl making nine-to-five life bearable. (In any circumstance, being wined and dined by a rotation of handsome men doesn’t hurt.) She’s quite good at the job, landing lucrative corporate gigs for her clients. But how long can you pretend to be a suit before you ultimately are one?

Photo: Atsushi Nishijima/HBO

Character: The Letter “Q,” Misunderstood, Avant-Garde Trailblazer

Played by: Steve Buscemi

Description: In the lovely imagination of Julio, the Letter “Q” is a forward-thinking iconoclast whose contributions to art went unappreciated because he debuted with the normies “P,” “R,” and “S” instead of experimentalists like “X,” “Y,” and “Z.” A punk dissenter during an era of pop palatability, “Q” was consigned to a life of squalor and misery. He nearly gave up, until one day cool-kid “Z” (played by Evan Mock, hot as always) acknowledged him on live TV. A rare victory!

Photo: Atsushi Nishijima/HBO

Character: Bibo, Julio’s Robot Secretary and Wannabe Actor

Played by: Joe Rumrill

Description: The virtue of robot assistants is that they’re efficient and obedient. Not Bibo, a glorified search engine on wheels who is on Julio’s payroll but mostly does whatever he pleases. (You may remember a robot assistant named Bibo from Problemista — unclear whether he switched his look or all robots are named Bibo in the Julioverse.) And what Bibo pleases is to go to the dentist even though he doesn’t have teeth. Oh, and to pursue an acting career. Life’s sweet when your boss is a pushover.

Photo: HBO

Character: Chester, Cabdriver and Aspiring Lawyer

Played by: Tomas Mato

Description: Forget Lyft and Uber. Ride with Chester, the flamboyant, self-employed rideshare driver who shuttles Julio and acquaintances across the city. They’ve got their own app, sliding-scale payments, and a community board with Chipotle bathroom codes. No wage theft here, honey! All proceeds go to Chester’s law-school fund. To quote the poster on the back of the passenger seat: “I want to get all Elle Woods I got to save up.”