It was the year the gold standard of "guilty pleasure" TV almost broke. When Elite season 4 dropped on Netflix, the collective anxiety of the fandom was palpable. How do you replace characters like Lu, Nadia, and Carla? You basically don't. You can't. Those characters were the DNA of the show's initial explosion into global pop culture. Yet, the showrunners decided to hit the reset button anyway, introducing a new era of chaos that redefined what Elite was actually about.
Honestly, the fourth season is where the show stopped being a murder mystery with soap opera elements and fully leaned into being a high-fashion, high-friction psychodrama. It’s polarizing. Some people hated the shift. Others found the new blood refreshing. But if you look at the data and the cultural impact, this season was a massive pivot point that kept the franchise alive long after most teen dramas would have fizzled out.
The Blanco Commerford Invasion
The biggest shock to the system wasn't just the absence of old favorites; it was the arrival of the Blanco Commerford family. Imagine moving into a new school and finding out the new principal’s kids are essentially there to dismantle every social structure you’ve built. Benjamin, the new director, brought a "discipline first" mentality that felt like a cold shower after the lawlessness of the previous years.
But the real story was Ari, Mencía, and Patrick.
Ari was positioned as the new "it girl," a sort of fusion of Lu’s ambition and Carla’s ice-cold composure. However, she lacked the immediate vulnerability that made us love to hate the originals. Her arrival created a messy, often frustrating love triangle with Samuel and Guzmán. It felt sacrilegious to many viewers. Seeing Guzmán, who had grown so much over three seasons, regress into a jealous, competitive version of himself was tough to watch. But that’s life, right? People regress when they’re insecure.
Then you had Patrick. Manu Ríos didn't just join the cast; he exploded onto the screen. His character was designed to be a disruptor. By inserting himself between Ander and Omar, he exposed the cracks in a relationship that fans had put on a pedestal. It was messy. It was often uncomfortable. But it was also a realistic depiction of how "perfect" couples can be dismantled by a shiny new distraction when they aren't actually communicating.
Mencía and the Darker Side of Las Encinas
While Patrick and Ari were busy with romantic entanglements, Mencía’s storyline took the season into much darker, more grounded territory. Her involvement with Armando wasn't just another scandalous "Elite" hookup. It was a harrowing look at grooming and the power dynamics of wealth and age.
Martina Cariddi played Mencía with this frantic, rebellious energy that masked a deep-seated need for autonomy. Her arc provided the actual stakes for the season. Without the Mencía-Armando-Rebe triangle, Elite season 4 would have just been a series of expensive parties and attractive people staring at each other. It gave the season its shadow.
The New Mystery: Who Attacked Ari?
The show stuck to its guns with the non-linear storytelling. We knew from the jump that Ari was dying—or at least badly hurt—at a New Year's Eve party. The flash-forwards are a staple of the series, but this time, the "who dunnit" felt different because we didn't actually know the victim yet.
- The police interrogations felt more tired this time around.
- The stakes felt lower because the audience hadn't spent years bonding with Ari.
- The resolution, involving Guzmán and a flare gun, was a wild departure from the more "calculated" deaths of the past.
It was chaotic. It was messy. It was exactly what the show needed to transition away from the Marina/Polo era. If they had tried to replicate the emotional weight of Season 1, they would have failed. Instead, they went for high-octane drama and visual flair.
Why the Critics and Fans Clashed
If you look at Rotten Tomatoes or IMDb during the release window, the ratings were a rollercoaster. Critics often praised the production value—the cinematography in Elite season 4 is arguably the best in the series. The colors are more saturated, the editing is snappier, and the fashion reached a level of absurdity that only this show can pull off.
Fans, however, were grieving.
The loss of "Nadia" (Mina El Hammani) and "Lu" (Danna Paola) left a void that couldn't be filled by mere aesthetics. The show shifted from a character-driven mystery to a vibe-driven spectacle. It’s a common evolution for long-running teen shows. Think Skins or Gossip Girl. You eventually stop watching for the plot and start watching for the atmosphere.
The Philippe and Cayetana Evolution
One of the most surprising wins of the season was Cayetana’s redemption arc. In previous seasons, she was the social climber we all looked down on. In Season 4, she became the moral compass. Her relationship with Prince Philippe started as a fairytale and quickly devolved into a nuanced exploration of consent and the "privilege of royalty."
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Georgina Amorós delivered a powerhouse performance here. Watching her stand up to Philippe and choose her own dignity over a crown was arguably the most satisfying moment of the entire season. It proved that the writers could still handle complex, sensitive topics with more than just shock value.
Visual Storytelling and the "Netflix Aesthetic"
We have to talk about the New Year’s Eve party. The lake, the fireworks, the pier—it was a masterclass in visual tension. The showrunners utilized the Spanish landscape to create a sense of isolation despite the wealth. When the characters are at the club or a private gala, they look like they’re in a gilded cage.
- Lighting: High contrast, heavy use of neon and shadows.
- Wardrobe: Increased use of high-fashion labels, leaning into the "unrealistic" nature of the school uniforms.
- Music: A heavy tilt towards synth-pop and reggaeton that mirrored the frantic energy of the plot.
The Ending That Changed Everything
The finale of Elite season 4 didn't just wrap up the mystery; it cleared the board. Guzmán leaving the country was a massive shock. It marked the end of the "original trio" era (Guzmán, Samuel, and Ander).
When Guzmán kills Armando, it isn't a calculated move like Polo’s death. It’s an act of impulsive rage. The way Samuel and Rebe help him hide the body solidified a new, darker alliance. They weren't just classmates anymore; they were accomplices. This shifted the tone for the following seasons, making the characters feel more like fugitives than students.
Actionable Insights for Viewers and Creators
If you are a fan of the series or a creator looking at how to handle a soft reboot, there are real lessons to be learned from this specific season.
Watch the Short Stories first. Before diving into Season 4, Netflix released "Elite Short Stories." These are essential. They bridge the gap between the seasons and provide the emotional closure for characters like Carla and Samuel that the main show skipped. Without them, Season 4 feels disjointed.
Accept the genre shift. Don't go into the fourth season expecting a grounded detective story. Treat it like a high-fashion fever dream. The show stopped trying to be "realistic" a long time ago, and Season 4 is the moment it fully embraced its own absurdity.
Pay attention to the background. The show uses art and architecture to reflect the characters' mental states. The Blanco Commerford house, with its glass walls and lack of privacy, is a direct metaphor for their family dynamic—everything is on display, but nobody is actually seen.
Follow the actors' careers. This season was a launching pad for Manu Ríos and André Lamoglia (who joined later but benefited from the Season 4 shift). Following their transition from influencers to actors provides an interesting look at how modern casting works for streaming giants.
The legacy of this season is complicated. It wasn't the "best" in terms of writing, but it was the most necessary. It proved that Elite was a brand that could survive its own cast, a feat very few shows actually manage to pull off in the streaming era.
To get the most out of your rewatch, focus on the power shift between the old guards like Samuel and the new intruders. It’s a classic story of class warfare, just dressed up in Prada and doused in champagne. Look for the subtle ways the veteran characters try to maintain their "kings of the school" status while clearly being outmatched by the sheer wealth and influence of the newcomer Blanco family. It’s a brutal, beautiful transition that defines the middle-era of the series.