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Alpha Males on Netflix spent five seasons teaching men to deconstruct themselves and built them a commune to prove it didn’t work

Martha Lucas

There is a particular kind of person who has done everything right. He attended the workshops on emotional intelligence. He read the books. He updated his vocabulary — learned to say “I feel” instead of “you always,” learned to identify his own defenses, learned to name the system he was raised inside and acknowledge his place within it. He is, by every available metric, a man who has understood the critique. And he is standing in front of a plot of land in the Spanish countryside, drawing up the bylaws for a limited liability company whose stated purpose is to live without women.

This is the image at the center of Alpha Males Season 5 — and it is funnier, and more honest, and more unsettling than anything the show has done before. The Patriarchal Pact Ltd. is not a joke about men who refuse to change. It is a portrait of men who changed correctly, documented every step, and arrived here anyway.

The Caballero formula — the ensemble trap, the cycling characters, the comedy of non-redemption — has always understood something that more earnest television misses: knowing the right thing and doing the right thing are not the same skill, and the distance between them is where people actually live. Pedro, Luis, Santi, and Raúl have spent four seasons in that distance. Season 5 is the season where the distance becomes a postal address.

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What makes the Patriarchal Pact work as comedy — and as something more than comedy — is its corporate form. These men do not simply retreat. They incorporate. They draft statutes. They pool investment capital and identify a plot of land with development potential. The most Spanish, most bureaucratically earnest response to an existential crisis is to register it with the Mercantile Registry, and in that detail the Caballeros locate the precise absurdity of their characters: people who have absorbed enough progressive discourse to know that building a male commune is indefensible, and enough practical Spanish pragmatism to do it anyway with the proper paperwork. The ideology failed. The company formation did not.

This is the comedy mechanism that has distinguished Alpha Males from the moment it launched in December 2022 and that reaches its fullest expression in Season 5. The characters are not stupid. They are not insincere. Raúl has absorbed more feminist theory than most people who identify as feminists. Luis can describe the dynamics of a healthy relationship with clinical precision. Pedro has had the conversation about male privilege so many times he could run the seminar. And none of this knowledge has made them better at being human beings in the specific, daily, relational sense that actually matters. The comedy is not mockery. It is recognition — the uncomfortable laughter of an audience watching characters use enormous intelligence to arrive at the most avoidable possible conclusions through impeccably logical steps.

Season 5 is the first season where the logic has consequences that do not reset. The Caballero tradition — inherited from Aquí no hay quien viva, refined across sixteen seasons of La que se avecina — was built on a formal promise: nothing truly changes. The chaos is reliable. The characters cycle. Whatever lesson was apparently learned in the finale will have evaporated by the première. The pleasure was in the repetition, the comfort of knowing that the building would still be standing, the neighbors still incompatible, the disaster still arriving on schedule.

The enclosed space has always been the mechanism. In La que se avecina the trap was a mortgage — people who could not afford to leave each other, generating comedy from that impossibility for over fifteen years. Alpha Males replaced the building with a discourse. The trap is the conversation about gender that its characters’ entire social world is having, inescapably, all the time — a conversation they cannot opt out of, can only perform their response to, which is what they have been doing for five seasons with increasing desperation. The commune is the moment they try to build a new building to escape the old one, which is also, structurally, the plot of La que se avecina Season 1.

But Season 5 breaks the promise. The dramatic weight in the final episodes — the consequences that land without a comic cushion, the characters who arrive at points that cannot be walked back — suggests the Caballeros have decided their formula has earned the right to follow through. Some things will cost something permanently. The tradition said: nothing changes, and that is funny. Season 5 is asking, for the first time, what happens when something actually does.

The international success of Alpha Males — adapted in France, Italy, the Netherlands, and Germany — is sometimes explained as evidence of the show’s universality, which is correct but imprecise. What travels is not the gender war. The gender war is the Spanish delivery mechanism, specific to a political moment, inflected by a comic tradition, embodied in a very recognizable Mediterranean male social type. What travels is the anatomy of a failure that educated, progressive, middle-aged people across Western Europe recognize from the inside: the failure of people who have understood a critique of themselves completely and cannot translate that understanding into different behavior.

The Patriarchal Pact is funny in Madrid because of its specific cultural texture. It is funny in Paris, Amsterdam, and Hamburg because everyone in those cities knows someone who would do this — and most of them, if they are honest, recognize the impulse. The commune is not a Spanish phenomenon. It is the universal human preference for building a new structure over dismantling the old self.

The satire’s target has evolved across five seasons in ways the show has never explicitly acknowledged. Season 1 satirized men who resisted change. By Season 5 that target is gone, because these men are not resisting change — they are pursuing it with full commitment and arriving at the Patriarchal Pact as the result. The darker, more interesting target is the entire project of ideological self-improvement as a substitute for actual transformation. Not the men who won’t deconstruct. The men who deconstructed completely and are standing in the same place they started, holding a company registration certificate.

The women’s parallel storyline — the femininity retreat, the foot-focused OnlyFans, the wreckage of relationships that the men also belong to — is satirized with more affection and less consequence. The show is structurally committed to symmetry: both sides performing their respective liberation, neither side finding what they were looking for. But the dramatic weight falls unevenly. The men’s failures cost something in Season 5. The women’s failures are funnier, which is not the same thing, and that asymmetry is worth naming. A show that genuinely targets the cultural apparatus of ideological performance — the shared agreement that relationships must be processed as political positions before they can be lived as human ones — would need to hold both sides to the same standard of consequence. Season 5 mostly does. Mostly.

Because the real target, the one Alpha Males has been circling for five seasons without quite naming it, is not men or women or the gender war between them. It is the prior ideologization of the personal — the agreement, entered into by everyone regardless of gender, that you must first determine whether your love is adequately deconstructed before you are allowed to feel it. Pedro cannot simply want to be with Daniela. He must first establish what wanting that says about his politics. Raúl cannot simply be confused about his marriage. He must first determine whether his confusion is the correct kind. The seminar precedes the relationship. The framework precedes the experience. And somewhere in that sequence — between the theory and the person standing in front of you — something gets lost that five seasons of Alpha Males has been trying to locate.

Alpha Males - Netflix
MACHOS ALFA S04 Raquel Guerrero as Esther, María Hervás as Daniela in episode 41 of MACHOS ALFA S04. Cr. Manuel Fiestas/Netflix © 2025

Whether the show knows this is its deepest subject is the question Season 5 leaves open. The Caballeros are skilled enough that the argument is in the material whether or not it was consciously placed there. The comedy works because the characters are sincere. The satire works because the audience recognizes the sincerity. And the thing that remains unresolved — the thing the Patriarchal Pact, the femininity retreat, the divorces and the radicalizations and the spiral of deconstruction all circle without answering — is simpler and harder than any of the ideological positions the characters have adopted.

Can these people stop performing long enough to figure out what they actually want?

The commune is built. The statutes are filed. The question is still open.

Alpha Males Season 5 premieres globally on Netflix on April 17. The six-episode season was created by Laura and Alberto Caballero, directed by Laura Caballero, and produced by Contubernio Films. The returning ensemble — Fernando Gil, Gorka Otxoa, Fele Martínez, Raúl Tejón, Kira Miró, María Hervás, Paula Gallego, and Raquel Guerrero — is joined by new regulars María Adánez and Diego Martín, alongside Cayetana Cabezas, Marta Hazas, and Paloma Bloyd.

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