Lucas Lauriente
Himself
Overview
In his stand-up set, Argentine comic Lucas Lauriente animatedly rattles off reflections on different generations and begs kids to stop saying "goals."
Cast
Reviews
4 min readThe Stand-Up That Wasn’t Quite There
I went into Todo lo que sería Lucas Lauriente expecting a comedy—something loose, maybe a little messy, the kind of film that lets a charismatic performer riff onstage and then fills in the gaps with whatever absurdity the script can muster. What I got instead was a film that feels like it’s constantly on the verge of becoming something, only to pull back at the last second. It’s not that it’s bad, exactly.
It’s that it’s almost—almost funny, almost insightful, almost a vehicle for Lucas Lauriente’s comedic persona. But almost, as they say, only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades.
The premise is simple: Lauriente, an Argentine comedian, delivers a stand-up set that serves as the film’s backbone. His material revolves around generational clashes, the absurdity of modern slang (“goals,” he begs kids to stop saying, as if the word itself is a personal affront), and the kind of observational humor that’s equal parts relatable and low-stakes. There’s a rhythm to it, the kind you’d expect from a seasoned performer—pauses for laughter, exaggerated facial expressions, the occasional self-deprecating shrug.
But here’s the thing: stand-up is an art form built on immediacy, on the unspoken contract between performer and audience that what’s happening in that room, in that moment, is unique. A film like this has to work harder to replicate that energy, and Todo lo que sería doesn’t quite clear the bar.
The directors, Jan Suter and Raúl Campos, seem aware of the challenge. They cut away from Lauriente’s set to vignettes that presumably expand on his jokes—quick sketches, flashbacks, or exaggerated reenactments of the scenarios he’s describing. But these detours feel more like padding than punchlines.
Buzz & Rumors
Public reportsHe spent a Netflix hour begging kids to stop saying "goals."
That is the official synopsis, dated April 2018, Argentine standup, TV-MA. TMDB lists 6 April in Argentina, 1 hour 18 minutes, Raúl Campos and Jan Suter directing, Lucas Lauriente writing his own set. Netflix still sells it as raunchy, irreverent social commentary. IMDb's plot is more specific. He talks about meeting Hernán Caire, the old-school Argentine showman. A parachute jump sends him into a crush spiral about Maluma and Ricky Martin. latestnetflix.com's view is that the hour is a man in his thirties arguing with every generation at once, including the one that turned "goals" into a personality.
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Americas Quarterly had already clocked the binge. After a handful of Mexican hours in 2016 and 2017, Netflix planned at least 15 Spanish-language specials for 2018. Lauriente landed in that pile. So did his touring partner Luciano Mellera, whose own Netflix hour landed the same year. Córdoba Cultura said Netflix recruited both in 2017. They had already dragged Argentine standup into Luna Park on 16 November 2016, more than 5,000 people, billed as the first time the form filled that room. A three-month 2017 national tour claimed more than 10,000 tickets from Jujuy to Tierra del Fuego, then the Teatro Ópera. In 2018 the duo hit Barcelona, Madrid, Berlin, Mallorca, and London. Same year, the Netflix taping. La Nación's later theater bio still treats that hour as the career stamp. , ,
Letterboxd users treat the special like a comfort tape. One review calls the Tadeo-and-the-Korean-girl bit a low-cost Before Sunrise. Another quotes a niece named Isis who talks like she lived through both Perón presidencies. Someone wrote they had watched it six times. That is not a press tour. That is a cult that formed because the jokes are local enough to feel stolen from a group chat. Filmaffinity credits BluePrint Content as the producer and Netflix as distributor. Plex lists Josh Mateos as editor. Runtime listings wobble between 74 and 78 minutes depending on which database you trust. None of that is the gossip. , ,
What stuck is a comic who had just taken Luna Park getting a global card that still, years later, is a plea about the word "goals." Mellera got his own Netflix hour the same year. The pairing kept touring. Lauriente later did Hernán Casciari on Corrientes with Mellera, then a podcast. The 2018 special is a fossil. Kid slang, a parachute, two pop stars, and a showman named Caire, frozen the week Netflix decided Spanish standup was a volume business. , ,
Entertainment rumors and trivia aggregated from public reporting. Treat speculation as unverified unless a cited source confirms it.