Muchachas, a miniseries documentary tied to the run-up to the World Cup, lands with a simple idea and a sharper detail: it follows six women linked to Argentina's national team through their home lives, match routines and the days before the tournament begins. Pía Iezzi said the project took two years to make and that it set out to show the people around the players, not just the players themselves.
The women at the center of the series are Valentina Cervantes, Agustina Gandolfo, Emilia Ferrero, Muriel López Benítez, Sabrina Di Marzo and Agustina Bacerano. Cervantes is the partner of Enzo Fernández, Gandolfo is married to Lautaro Martínez, Ferrero is Julián Álvarez's girlfriend, López Benítez is with Lisandro Martínez, Di Marzo is married to Ángel Correa and Bacerano is the former wife of Germán Pezzella. The timing gives the documentary its charge: these are women who have spent the last stretch of time moving from Copa América to the preparations for the World Cup that starts these days.
Iezzi said she and Lucía Ugarte came up with the project in a café, then reached the women through someone they already trusted. That approach shaped what appears on screen. The production followed them in their homes, at Copa América matches, before games and after them, and even took the crew to Milán, Manchester, Nueva York and Madrid to capture ordinary routines that rarely surface in football coverage. The series also shows the rituals they use to watch matches, along with children, family logistics and the complications that come with living around elite sport.
That closeness is also where the documentary finds its contradiction. Iezzi said the aim was never to turn private life into something polemical, and she stressed that none of the women present their lives as if they were living in Disney. Yet one of them still keeps a private cábala: she always wears the same shirt and does not wash it. Iezzi did not say which one. That omission leaves a small mystery inside a project built on access, and it is the kind that keeps a viewer watching past the first impression.
For now, Muchachas arrives as a portrait of the family side of a team that has spent years under a glare usually reserved for the pitch. Its value is not in revealing scandal but in showing how much work, travel and emotional labor sit behind the public image of football success. The unanswered detail about the unwashed shirt is minor on paper, but it fits the series' larger point: even in a documentary built on intimacy, some habits remain fully private.
