The pilot episode opens by defining magical realism as “what happens when a highly detailed, realistic setting is invaded by something too strange to believe” before adding, “There is a reason magical realism was born in Columbia.” It ends with the bloody aftermath of a shootout orchestrated by the “hero” of the series. Welcome to “Narcos,” Netflix’s series about the rise and fall of drug kingpin Pablo Escobar.

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned in the narco world, it’s that life is more complicated than you think,” says Drug Enforcement Agent Steve Murphy, played by Boyd Holbrook. “Good and bad, they’re relative concepts. In the world of drug dealers, you do what you think is right and hope for the best.”

As usual, SPOILERS await those brave or foolish enough to cross this threshold.

The show, created by Carl Bernard, Chris Brancato, Doug Miro and Paul Eckstein, follows the real-life exploits of Escobar, played by Wagner Moura, Murphy and his partner, DEA agent Javier Pena, played by Pedro Pascal, through the cocaine heydays of the 70s and 80s. When possible, it inserts historical photographs and footage into the narrative, heightening the “realism” component of the opening definition. It’s riveting, appointment television, even if its distribution on Netflix technically disqualifies it as such.

Visually and thematically, the show’s influences appear to be the films of Martin Scorcese (equal parts “Mean Streets,” “Goodfellas,” “Casino,” and “The Departed,” if you’re curious), “The Wire,” “The Sopranos,” and “Breaking Bad.” The pilot episode was masterfully shot by director Jose Padilha, whose neon palette simultaneously evokes the excess of the age experienced by the narcos and the abject poverty experienced by nearly everyone else, sometimes in a single shot. (Yes, I’m thinking of the tracking shot that follows the girl into the Karaoke bar in the opening shootout sequence. It’s beautiful and menacing in all the right ways)

The show explains that Chile was originally on track to become the cocaine capital of the Southern hemisphere until dictator Augusto Pinochet rounded up and killed over 300 drug dealers. One of those dealers, “Cockroach,” managed to survive and escape to Columbia, where he introduces Escobar, already a powerful smuggler, to the benefits of selling a product that creates its own demand.

“You do a little bit, and in 20 minutes, you want to do some more,” Cockroach says.

When we first see Escobar, he is stopped by a Colombian intelligence unit, who demands he open his trucks. The unit’s leader informs Escobar that they are all highly-paid, dedicated public servants who cannot be bought, unlike the local cops Escobar normally pays off. Escobar opens a truck without objection, revealing that he has not even bothered to hide the electronics he is illegally transporting. Instead, he casually names every single person in the unit, inquiring about their loved ones before giving them a choice.

“So look, I make deals for a living,” he says. “Now, you can stay calm and accept my deal or accept the consequences. Silver or lead. You decide.”

Given such a choice, what would you do?

Escobar then adds that one day, he will be president of the Republic of Columbia. Moura delivers the line with the matter-of-fact authority of a person who fully expects it to happen, and his performance is a thrill to watch, turning from comic to deadly serious on a dime. You literally never quite know what he’s going to do next.

After meeting Cockroach, Escobar begins smuggling cocaine from Peru into Columbia and, eventually, the United States. His operation grows exponentially, expanding from a single person smuggling a few kilos in a sportcoat to an army of drug mules, and eventually, his own plane and jungle labs. All the while, the money keeps rolling in.

When we see Murphy ten years before the events of the opening scene, he is busting pot dealers on the streets of Miami, sort of a proto-Sonny Crockett by way of the DEA. We get a great scene where his inner confidence wins his future wife over at a bowling alley bar. After encountering the cocaine trade in its nascent stage in Miami, he and his wife volunteer to relocate to Bogota, Columbia, to try to do some good.

“My dad volunteered to fight in World War II because of Pearl Harbor, but you think he knew anybody in Hawaii? No way,” Murphy says. “Cocaine in Miami? Kilos from Columbia? This was my war. This was my duty, and I was ready to fight it, and my wife was ready to fight it with me, too.

“We had no idea what we were in for.”

This show is as addictive as the substance it chronicles. If you’re a fan of Scorcese-style crime epics, 1980s culture, or just curious about the history of the drug trade, add “Narcos” to your Netflix list today. You won’t regret it.