The Encyclopedia of Contemporary Spanish Films 9781442271333

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The Encyclopedia of Contemporary Spanish Films

National Cinema Series

Series Editor: Cynthia J. Miller The Encyclopedia of Japanese Horror Films edited by Salvador Jimenez Murguía The Encyclopedia of Racism in American Films edited by Salvador Jimenez Murguía The Encyclopedia of Contemporary Spanish Films edited by Salvador Jimenez Murguía and Alex Pinar

The Encyclopedia of Contemporary Spanish Films Edited by Salvador Jimenez Murguía and Alex Pinar

ROWMAN & LITTLEFIELD Lanham • Boulder • New York • London

Published by Rowman & Littlefield An imprint of The Rowman & Littlefield Publishing Group, Inc. 4501 Forbes Boulevard, Suite 200, Lanham, Maryland 20706 www.rowman.com Unit A, Whitacre Mews, 26-34 Stannary Street, London SE11 4AB Copyright © 2018 by The Rowman & Littlefield Publishing Group, Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote passages in a review. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Information Available Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Murguía, Salvador, 1977– author. | Pinar, Alex, 1974– author. Title: The encyclopedia of contemporary Spanish films / Salvador Jimenez Murguía and Alex Pinar. Description: Lanham : Rowman & Littlefield, 2018. | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2017053153 (print) | LCCN 2017054823 (ebook) | ISBN 9781442271333 (electronic) | ISBN 9781442271326 (hardback : alk. paper) Subjects: LCSH: Motion pictures—Spain—Encyclopedias. Classification: LCC PN1993.5.S7 (ebook) | LCC PN1993.5.S7 M88 2018 (print) | DDC 791.430946—dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017053153

™ The paper used in this publication meets the minimum requirements of American National Standard for Information Sciences—Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials, ANSI/NISO Z39.48-1992. Printed in the United States of America

To the diverse peoples of Spain who waited to watch . . . keep watching.

Contents Acknowledgments xiii Introduction xv Film Titles in English

xvii

ENCYCLOPEDIA 1 A mi madre le gustan las mujeres (My Mother Likes Women) 1 Los abrazos rotos (Broken Embraces) 3 Abre los ojos (Open Your Eyes) 5 Acción mutante (Mutant Action) 9 Ágora (Agora) 10 Los aires difíciles (Rough Winds) 13 Alatriste (Alatriste) 15 El alquimista impaciente (The Impatient Alchemist) 18 Amador (Amador) 20 El amante bilingüe (The Bilingual Lover) 22 Amantes (Lovers) 25 Los amantes del círculo polar (The Lovers of the Arctic Circle) 28 Los amantes pasajeros (I’m So Excited!) 30 Los años bárbaros (The Stolen Years) 32 La ardilla roja (The Red Squirrel) 33 Arrebato (Rapture) 35 Así en el cielo como en la tierra (On Earth as It Is in Heaven) 38 Asignatura pendiente (Unfinished Business) 39 ¡Átame! (Tie Me Up! Tie Me Down!) 40 Atlas de geografía humana (Atlas of Human Geography) 43 ¡Ay, Carmela! (Ay, Carmela!) 44 Azuloscurocasinegro (Dark Blue Almost Black) 47 El baile de la Victoria (The Dancer and the Thief) 49 Balada triste de trompeta (The Last Circus) 51 Barcelona (un mapa) (Barcelona, A Map) 53 Barrio (Neighborhood) 54 Belle Epoque (Belle Epoque) 56 Las bicicletas son para el verano (Bicycles Are for the Summer) 58 Biutiful (Biutiful) 60 Blancanieves (Snow White) 63 Boca a boca (Mouth to Mouth) 65 Bodas de sangre (Blood Wedding) 67 El Bola (Pellet) 70 El bosque animado (The Enchanted Forest) 72 vii

viii     CONTENTS

Las brujas de Zugarramurdi (Witching & Bitching) 73 El caballero Don Quijote (Don Quixote, Knight Errant) 77 Camino (Camino) 79 Canción de cuna (Cradle Song) 82 Caníbal (Cannibal) 84 Caracremada (Caracremada) 85 Carmina o revienta (Carmina or Blow Up) 87 Carmina y amén (Carmina and Amen) 89 Carne trémula (Live Flesh) 90 Las cartas de Alou (Letters from Alou) 93 La casa de Bernarda Alba (The House of Bernarda Alba) 94 Castillos de cartón (3some) 96 Celda 211 (Cell 211) 98 La Celestina (Celestina) 99 La colmena (The Beehive) 101 La comunidad (Common Wealth) 103 El concursante (The Contestant) 104 Cosas que nunca te dije (Things I Never Told You) 105 Cría cuervos (Raise Ravens) 107 El crimen de Cuenca (The Cuenca Crime) 109 Crimen ferpecto (The Perfect Crime) 112 Los cronocrímenes (Timecrimes) 114 Cuando vuelvas a mi lado (By My Side Again) 118 El desconocido (Retribution) 120 El desencanto (The Disenchantment) 121 El día de la bestia (The Day of the Beast) 123 Un día perfecto (A Perfect Day) 125 Días contados (Running Out of Time) 127 10.000 km (10,000 Km) 128 ¡Dispara! (Outrage!) 130 El disputado voto del señor Cayo (Mr. Cayo’s Contested Vote) 131 Don Quijote de Orson Welles (Orson Welles’ Don Quixote) 132 Doña Perfecta (Doña Perfecta) 134 Las edades de Lulú (The Ages of Lulu) 136 La educación de las hadas (The Education of Fairies) 137 Elisa, vida mía (Elisa, My Life) 139 En la ciudad (In the City) 140 En la ciudad sin límites (The City of No Limits) 141 Enterrado (Buried) 142 La escopeta nacional (The National Shotgun) 145 Ese oscuro objeto del deseo (That Obscure Object of Desire) 147 El espinazo del diablo (The Devil’s Backbone) 150 Esquilache (Esquilache) 152 La estanquera de Vallecas (The Tobacconist from Vallecas) 154 Fausto 5.0 (Faust 5.0) 156 Felices 140 (Happy 140) 157 Fin (The End) 158

CONTENTS     ix

La flor de mi secreto (The Flower of My Secret) 162 Flores de otro mundo (Flowers from Another World) 166 Función de noche (Evening Performance) 168 Furtivos (Poachers) 169 Los girasoles ciegos (The Blind Sunflowers) 172 Gordos (Fat People) 174 Goya en Burdeos (Goya in Bordeaux) 176 La gran familia española (Family United) 178 Grupo 7 (Unit 7) 180 La guerra de papá (Daddy’s War) 182 Habana blues (Havana Blues) 185 Habitación en Roma (Room in Rome) 187 Hable con ella (Talk to Her) 189 Héctor (Hector) 192 Hermosa juventud (Beautiful Youth) 193 Historias del Kronen (Stories from the Kronen) 195 Un hombre llamado flor de otoño (A Man Called Autumn Flower) 196 Honor de cavalleria (Honor of the Knights/Quixotic) 198 La hora de los valientes (A Time for Defiance) 200 Las horas del día (The Hours of the Day) 201 Lo imposible (The Impossible) 204 Inconscientes (Unconscious) 205 Intacto (Intacto) 208 La isla mínima (Marshland) 210 Jamón, jamón (Jamon, Jamon) 213 Juana la Loca (Mad Love) 215 Katmandú, un espejo en el cielo (Kathmandu Lullaby) 218 Kika (Kika) 220 Krámpack (Nico and Dani) 224 Laberinto de pasiones (Labyrinth of Passion) 228 El laberinto del fauno (Pan’s Labyrinth) 229 El lápiz del carpintero (The Carpenter’s Pencil) 232 Lázaro de Tormes (Lazaro of Tormes) 234 La lengua de las mariposas (Butterfly’s Tongue) 236 La ley del deseo (Law of Desire) 237 Libertarias (Freedom Fighters) 240 Lope (Lope: The Outlaw) 242 Lucía y el sexo (Sex and Lucia) 245 Luna de lobos (Wolves’ Moon) 247 Los lunes al sol (Mondays in the Sun) 248 La madre muerta (The Dead Mother) 252 Magical Girl (Magical Girl) 253 La mala educación (Bad Education) 256 Mar adentro (The Sea Inside) 259 La marrana (The Sow) 262 Martin (Hache) (Martin H) 263 Matador (Matador) 264

x     CONTENTS

Mataharis (Mataharis) 267 Mi vida sin mí (My Life without Me) 270 Moros y cristianos (Moors and Christians) 271 El muerto y ser feliz (The Dead Man and Being Happy) 273 Mujeres al borde de un ataque de nervios (Women on the Verge     of a Nervous Breakdown) 274 Nadie hablará de nosotras cuando hayamos muerto (Nobody Will      Speak of Us When We’re Dead) 277 Els nens salvatges / Los niños salvajes (The Wild Ones) 278 Ninette (Ninette) 280 El niño (The Kid) 281 No habrá paz para los malvados (No Rest for the Wicked) 283 Los novios búlgaros (Bulgarian Lovers) 285 Los ojos de Julia (Julia’s Eyes) 288 Ópera prima (Opera Prima) 290 El orfanato (The Orphanage) 292 Los otros (The Others) 294 Pa negre / Pan negro (Black Bread) 296 Pacto de brujas (Witchery Deal) 298 Pagafantas (Friend Zone) 300 El penalti más largo del mundo (The Longest Penalty Shot in the World) 301 Los peores años de nuestra vida (The Worst Years of Our Lives) 303 El pico (Overdose) 304 La piel que habito (The Skin I Live In) 305 La plaga (The Plague) 308 Planes para mañana (Plans for Tomorrow) 308 Plenilunio (Plenilune) 311 ¿Por qué lo llaman amor cuando quieren decir sexo? (Why Do They      Call It Love When They Mean Sex?) 312 ¿Qué hace una chica como tú en un sitio como éste? (What’s a Girl      Like You Doing in a Place Like This?) 315 ¿Qué he hecho yo para merecer esto? (What Have I Done to     Deserve This?) 316 ¿Quién puede matar a un niño? (Who Can Kill a Child?) 318 15 años y un día (15 Years and One Day) 320 Rastres de sàndal / Rastros de sándalo (Traces of Sandalwood) 323 Las razones de mis amigos (Friends Have Reasons) 324 [Rec] (Rec) 325 Regresión (Regression) 327 Relatos salvajes (Wild Tales) 329 Remando al viento (Rowing with the Wind) 331 Réquiem por un campesino español (Requiem for a Spanish Peasant) 333 El rey de La Habana (The King of Havana) 336 El rey pasmado (The Dumbfounded King) 338 Seis puntos sobre Emma (Six Points about Emma) 340 El 7º Día (The 7th Day) 342 Sexo por compasión (Compassionate Sex) 344

CONTENTS     xi

Si te dicen que caí (If They Tell You I Fell) 346 7 Vírgenes (7 Virgins) 347 Silencio en la nieve (Frozen Silence) 349 Soldados de Salamina (Soldiers of Salamis) 351 La soledad era esto (This Was Solitude) 352 Stockholm (Stockholm) 354 El sur (The South) 356 Tacones lejanos (High Heels) 359 También la lluvia (Even the Rain) 361 Tapas (Tapas) 362 Tasio (Tasio) 364 Tatuaje (Tattoo) 367 Te doy mis ojos (Take My Eyes) 368 La teta y la luna (The Tit and the Moon) 369 Tierra (Earth) 370 Tiovivo c.1950 (Tiovivo c.1950) 372 Todo sobre mi madre (All about My Mother) 372 La torre de Suso (Suso’s Tower) 374 Torremolinos 73 (Torremolinos 73) 375 Torrente, el brazo tonto de la ley (Torrente, the Dumb Arm of the Law) 377 Tots volem el millor per a ella / Todos queremos lo mejor para      (We All Want What's Best for Her) 378 Las 13 rosas (13 Roses) 380 Tren de sombras (Train of Shadows) 383 3 bodas de más (Three Many Weddings) 384 Tres dies amb la família / Tres días con la familia (Three Days with     the Family) 386 Los últimos días (The Last Days) 388 Un franco, 14 pesetas (Crossing Borders) 390 Una pistola en cada mano (A Gun in Each Hand) 392 Vacas (Cows) 395 La vaquilla (The Heifer) 398 23-F: la película (23-F: The Movie) 400 La vida secreta de las palabras (The Secret Life of Words) 401 Vivir es fácil con los ojos cerrados (Living Is Easy with Eyes Closed) 404 Volver (Volver) 405 Volver a empezar (Begin the Beguine) 408 La voz dormida (The Sleeping Voice) 410 Werther (Werther) 412 Appendix A: Select Profiles

414

Appendix B: Goya Awards (Premios Goya)

443

Index 533 About the Editors and Contributors

547

Acknowledgments We would like to acknowledge the patience and professionalism of Rowman & Littlefield’s senior editor of arts and literature, Stephen Ryan, as well as his staff. Additionally, we would also like to thank the National Cinema Series editor, Dr. Cynthia Miller—her ability to visualize our idea and help us turn it into a reality is just one of her many talents that we appreciate immensely. We would also like to acknowledge the assistance of the administration, faculty, and staff at Akita International University for their support and understanding of our research endeavors—in particular, Dr. Peter McCagg, vice president of academic affairs, for his encouragement to pursue any and all research interests, as well as Mrs. Yoriko Sato Haseyama, from the Division of Research and Outreach Services, who guided us through the process of securing our research finances. In addition, we thank our families for their patience and understanding about the necessary time we spent away from them while working on this volume. We will make it up to all of you in time! Finally, this project is a collective one, and we are truly grateful for the hard work and effort of all of the contributors who made this work possible. Your writing speaks to the importance of Spanish film and adds another dimension to the rich cultural expression produced, directed, enacted, and viewed in an era of post-Franco cinema.

xiii

Introduction The Spanish film industry has generated highly provocative works of cinematography, marked by the various political and social events that transformed Spain throughout the 20th century. Beginning as early as the end of the 19th century, the Spanish film industry produced a considerably large number of films; yet in the late 1920s with the advent of sound technology, production declined due to a lack of economic and professional resources. After Spain’s Civil War (1936–1939) and throughout the dictatorship of Francisco Franco (1936–1975), the Spanish film industry was censored by political scrutiny, which in turn feigned its own propaganda productions. With the anxiety engendered by surreptitious surveillance and control, in general, two basic types of films were produced: (1) those of poor-quality commercial cinema that often bolstered the values of the Franco regime; and (2) films about the realities of Spanish society that, though somewhat critical, were heavily censored. With the dawn of a new and more democratic society from 1976 onward, the Spanish film industry almost immediately began to promote auteur cinema, at times even garnering international acclaim. Indicative of this acclaim that emerged after 1976 is the rise in popularity of such Spanish film icons as director Pedro Almodóvar and actor Penélope Cruz—yet these are only a few of the more recent names that have garnered fame on an international scale. Indeed, there are also features and figures that strove to launch the industry to its current status. For instance, director Luis García Berlanga used parody in La escopeta nacional (The National Shotgun, 1977) to showcase the corruption of the ruling class before the first democratic elections were held in 1978. The doorway for freedom of expression now open, soon directors like Iván Zulueta used their movies to complement the countercultural phenomena of “La Movida” that brought about new social conditions associated with the arrival of democracy. Along these lines, several filmmakers had the opportunity to push back against revisionism and reflect on the historical memory of the Spanish Civil War, producing films that told stories from the point of view of those who lost the war, such as ¡Ay, Carmela! by Carlos Saura (1990) and Libertarias (Freedom Fighters) by Vicente Aranda (1996). Younger and less-established directors have also capitalized on the opportunity to experiment with postmodernist narratives. Notably, the works of Alejandro Amenábar, Íciar Bollaín, and Fernando León de Aranoa have explored social issues such as immigration, the transformation toward a more multicultural society, and the consequences of vast unemployment. With these examples and more compiled herein, this text provides American audiences with a comprehensive guide to Spanish movies—fostering a better understanding of the multifaceted contributions that the Spanish, and their film industry, have made to the larger international fabric of modern cinema. Uniquely framing this content within the period of Spain’s transition to democracy in cinema that captures the relatively recent surge of filmmaking exxv

xvi     INTRODUCTION

pression, our team of contributors and editors acknowledges the importance of a volume that shares this content with academics and the general public alike. In that way, this text offers a comprehensive survey of Spanish films pertaining to such topics as art, culture, society, and politics after a major period of political repression. Highlighting the post-Franco era in which creative expression emerged from the censorship imposed by an autocratic dictatorship, the titles included herein were compiled with the intention of providing a substantive sample of the potential for cinema to reflect a public sentiment about a society in the wake of systematic artistic suppression. Although this volume is certainly a first of its kind, we, as editors and contributors, would be remiss if we failed to acknowledge the other works that have influenced our own. For instance, it is important to note that the 2009 volume 100 Years of Spanish Cinema, by Tatjana Pavlovic´ et al., provides an indispensable overview of Spain’s historical and political underpinnings that informed its film industry. Additionally, the 2012 volume A Companion to Spanish Cinema, edited by Jo Labanyi and Tatjana Pavlovic´, is also an outstanding text that provides remarkable insight into topics such as the construction of the auteur, genres, and cultural icons in relation to the Spanish film industry. More, Sally Faulkner’s 2013 book, A History of Spanish Film: Cinema and Society, 1910– 2010, takes up a sociological perspective in the study of Spanish cinema and has had an invaluable influence on how we envisioned our own work on this volume. Unlike these valuable works, this volume has several unique features that contribute to the larger body of literature on Spanish film. In addition to being— at the time of writing—the only encyclopedia on the English-speaking market that focuses on the contemporary period (from 1975 to 2016) of Spanish cinema, the most distinctive contribution of this work is the corpus of essays written by authors from different parts of the world—a truly global endeavor. This international and multicultural team provides an exceptionally diverse breadth of analysis and interpretations. Ultimately, The Encyclopedia of Contemporary Spanish Films offers audiences new insight into this rich topic, providing detailed information about the enormous variety of productions that have been released during the past 40 years. We hope this work assists audiences in appreciating and acquiring a better understanding of the historical, political, social, and cultural expressions found in Spanish film. It is both our pleasure and honor to provide this compilation to all those with an interest in such subject matter!

Film Titles in English The Ages of Lulu (Las edades de Lulú) Agora (Ágora) Alatriste (Alatriste) All about My Mother (Todo sobre mi madre) Amador (Amador) Atlas of Human Geography (Atlas de geografía humana) Ay, Carmela! (¡Ay, Carmela!) Bad Education (La mala educación) Barcelona, A Map (Barcelona [un mapa]) Beautiful Youth (Hermosa juventud) The Beehive (La colmena) Begin the Beguine (Volver a empezar) Belle Epoque (Belle Epoque) Bicycles Are for the Summer (Las bicicletas son para el verano) The Bilingual Lover (El amante bilingüe) Biutiful (Biutiful) Black Bread (Pa negre / Pan negro) The Blind Sunflowers (Los girasoles ciegos) Blood Wedding (Bodas de sangre) Broken Embraces (Los abrazos rotos) Bulgarian Lovers (Los novios búlgaros) Buried (Enterrado) Butterfly’s Tongue (La lengua de las mariposas) By My Side Again (Cuando vuelvas a mi lado) Camino (Camino) Cannibal (Caníbal) Caracremada (Caracremada) Carmina and Amen (Carmina y amén) Carmina or Blow Up (Carmina o revienta) The Carpenter’s Pencil (El lápiz del carpintero) Celestina (La Celestina) Cell 211 (Celda 211) The City of No Limits (En la cindad sin límites) Common Wealth (La comunidad) Compassionate Sex (Sexo por compasión) The Contestant (El concursante) Cows (Vacas) Cradle Song (Canción de cuna) Crossing Borders (Un franco, 14 pesetas) The Cuenca Crime (El crimen de Cuenca) Daddy’s War (La guerra de papá) xvii

xviii     FILM TITLES IN ENGLISH

The Dancer and the Thief (El baile de la Victoria) Dark Blue Almost Black (Azuloscurocasinegro) The Day of the Beast (El día de la bestia) The Dead Man and Being Happy (El muerto y ser feliz) The Dead Mother (La madre muerta) The Devil’s Backbone (El espinazo del diablo) The Disenchantment (El desencanto) Don Quixote, Knight Errant (El caballero Don Quijote) Doña Perfecta (Doña Perfecta) The Dumbfounded King (El rey pasmado) Earth (Tierra) The Education of Fairies (La educación de las hadas) Elisa, My Life (Elisa, vida mía) The Enchanted Forest (El bosque animado) The End (Fin) Esquilache (Esquilache) Even the Rain (También la lluvia) Evening Performance (Función de noche) Family United (La gran familia española) Fat People (Gordos) Faust 5.0 (Fausto 5.0) 15 Years and One Day (15 años y un día) The Flower of My Secret (La flor de mi secreto) Flowers from Another World (Flores de otro mundo) Freedom Fighters (Libertarias) Friend Zone (Pagafantas) Friends Have Reasons (Las razones de mis amigos) Frozen Silence (Silencio en la nieve) Goya in Bordeaux (Goya en Burdeos) A Gun in Each Hand (Una pistola en cada mano) Happy 140 (Felices 140) Havana Blues (Habana blues) Hector (Héctor) The Heifer (La vaquilla) High Heels (Tacones lejanos) Honor of the Knights/Quixotic (Honor de cavalleria) The Hours of the Day (Las horas del día) The House of Bernarda Alba (La casa de Bernarda Alba) If They Tell You I Fell (Si te dicen que caí) The Impatient Alchemist (El alquimista impaciente) The Impossible (Lo imposible) I’m So Excited! (Los amantes pasajeros) In the City (En la ciudad) Intact (Intacto) Jamon, Jamon (Jamón, jamón) Julia’s Eyes (Los ojos de Julia) Kathmandu Lullaby (Katmandú, un espejo en el cielo)

FILM TITLES IN ENGLISH     xix

The Kid (El niño) Kika (Kika) The King of Havana (El rey de La Habana) Labyrinth of Passion (Laberinto de pasiones) The Last Circus (Balada triste de trompeta) The Last Days (Los últimos días) Law of Desire (La ley del deseo) Lazaro of Tormes (Lázaro de Tormes) Letters from Alou (Las cartas de Alou) Live Flesh (Carne trémula) Living Is Easy with Eyes Closed (Vivir es fácil con los ojos cerrados) The Longest Penalty Shot in the World (El penalti más largo del mundo) Lope: The Outlaw (Lope) Lovers (Amantes) The Lovers of the Arctic Circle (Los amantes del círculo polar) Mad Love (Juana la Loca) Magical Girl (Magical Girl) A Man Called Autumn Flower (Un hombre llamado flor de otoño) Marshland (La isla mínima) Martin H (Martín [Hache]) Matador (Matador) Mataharis (Mataharis) Mondays in the Sun (Los lunes al sol) Moors and Christians (Moros y cristianos) Mouth to Mouth (Boca a boca) Mr. Cayo’s Contested Vote (El disputado voto del señor Cayo) Mutant Action (Acción mutante) My Life without Me (Mi vida sin mí) My Mother Likes Women (A mi madre le gustan las mujeres) The National Shotgun (La escopeta nacional) Neighborhood (Barrio) Nico and Dani (Krámpack) Ninette (Ninette) No Rest for the Wicked (No habrá paz para los malvados) Nobody Will Speak of Us When We’re Dead (Nadie hablará de nosotras cuando hayamos muerto) On Earth as It Is in Heaven (Así en el cielo como en la tierra) Open Your Eyes (Abre los ojos) Opera Prima (Ópera prima) The Orphanage (El orfanato) Orson Welles’ Don Quixote (Don Quijote de Orson Welles) The Others (Los otros) Outrage! (¡Dispara!) Overdose (El pico) Pan’s Labyrinth (El laberinto del fauno) Pellet (El Bola) The Perfect Crime (Crimen ferpecto)

xx     FILM TITLES IN ENGLISH

A Perfect Day (Un día perfecto) The Plague (La plaga) Plans for Tomorrow (Planes para mañana) Plenilune (Plenilunio) Poachers (Furtivos) Raise Ravens (Cría cuervos) Rapture (Arrebato) Rec ([Rec]) The Red Squirrel (La ardilla roja) Regression (Regresión) Requiem for a Spanish Peasant (Réquiem por un campesino español) Retribution (El desconocido) Room in Rome (Habitación en Roma) Rough Winds (Los aires difíciles) Rowing with the Wind (Remando al viento) Running Out of Time (Días contados) The Sea Inside (Mar adentro) The Secret Life of Words (La vida secreta de las palabras) 7 Virgins (7 Vírgenes) The 7th Day (El 7º Día) Sex and Lucia (Lucía y el sexo) Six Points about Emma (Seis puntos sobre Emma) The Skin I Live In (La piel que habito) The Sleeping Voice (La voz dormida) Snow White (Blancanieves) Soldiers of Salamis (Soldados de Salamina) The South (El sur) The Sow (La marrana) Stockholm (Stockholm) The Stolen Years (Los años bárbaros) Stories from the Kronen (Historias del Kronen) Suso’s Tower (La torre de Suso) Take My Eyes (Te doy mis ojos) Talk to Her (Hable con ella) Tapas (Tapas) Tasio (Tasio) Tattoo (Tatuaje) 10,000 Km (10.000 km) That Obsure Object of Desire (Ese oscuro objeto del deseo) Things I Never Told You (Cosas que nunca te dije) 13 Roses (Las 13 rosas) This Was Solitude (La soledad era esto) Three Days with the Family (Tres dies amb la família / Tres días con la familia) Three Many Weddings (3 bodas de más) Tie Me Up! Tie Me Down! (¡Átame!) A Time for Defiance (La hora de los valientes) Timecrimes (Los cronocrímenes)

FILM TITLES IN ENGLISH     xxi

Tiovivo c.1950 (Tiovivo c.1950) The Tit and the Moon (La teta y la luna) The Tobacconist from Vallecas (La estanquera de Vallecas) 3some (Castillos de cartón) Torremolinos 73 (Torremolinos 73) Torrente, the Dumb Arm of the Law (Torrente, el brazo tonto de la ley) Traces of Sandalwood (Rastres de sàndal / Rastros de sándalo) Train of Shadows (Tren de sombras) 23-F: The Movie (23-F: la película) Unconscious (Inconscientes) Unfinished Business (Asignatura pendiente) Unit 7 (Grupo 7) Volver (Volver) We All Want What's Best for Her (Tots volem el millor per a ella / Todos queremos lo mejor para ella) Werther (Werther) What Have I Done to Deserve This? (¿Qué he hecho yo para merecer esto?) What’s a Girl Like You Doing in a Place Like This? (¿Qué hace una chica como tú en un sitio como éste?) Who Can Kill a Child? (¿Quién puede matar a un niño?) Wild Tales (Relatos salvajes) Why Do They Call It Love When They Mean Sex? (¿Por qué lo llaman amor cuando quieren decir sexo?) The Wild Ones (Els nens salvatges / Los niños salvajes) Witchery Deal (Pacto de brujas) Witching & Bitching (Las brujas de Zugarramurdi) Wolves’ Moon (Luna de lobos) Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown (Mujeres al borde de un ataque de nervios) The Worst Years of Our Lives (Los peores años de nuestra vida)

•  A • A MI MADRE LE GUSTAN LAS MUJERES (MY MOTHER LIKES WOMEN) (2002) Directors: Daniela Fejerman and Inés París Screenplay: Daniela Fejerman and Inés París Specs: 96 minutes; color A mi madre le gustan las mujeres is the first feature-length film directed by the duo Daniela Fejerman and Inés París, after creating two film shorts together, A mí quién me manda meterme en esto (1997) and Vamos a dejarlo (1999). This first feature-length venture by the two was rather amply rewarded on the awards circuit, with a total of 12 wins and eight additional nominations. The two directors were celebrated for their efforts with the nod for Best Director at the Miami Latin Film Festival and for Best New Director at the Turia Awards. They also received several awards for best film, including Best Feature Film at the Dublin Gay and Lesbian Film Festival, Best Lesbian Feature Film at the Glitter Awards, Best Debut Feature at the Rehoboth Beach Independent Film Festival, Best Feature at the Torino International Gay and Lesbian Film Festival, and Best Film at the Verzaubert International Gay and Lesbian Film Festival. In addition, actor Leonor Watling, playing the principal protagonist, “Elvira,” in the film, was also lauded for her acting with awards for Best Actress at the Fotogramas de Plata, the Miami Latin Film Festival, and the Murcia Week of Spanish Cinema. She was also nominated for Best Actress at the prestigious Goya Awards, with additional Goya nominations notched for the filmmaking duo for Best Director, as well as for the film itself for Best Original Score, under the musical direction of Juan Bardem. The plot of the film turns on the first scene, during which three daughters— “Jimena” (María Pujalte), the aforementioned Elvira, and “Sol” (Silvia Abascal)—visit their mother’s home to celebrate her birthday. “Sofía” (Rosa María Sardá) reveals to her daughters that she’s in love. To their surprise, however, the daughters learn that her lover is not only a woman but also much younger, as well as a foreigner—a lesbian Czech. At first, Sol, the youngest and “hippest” daughter, seems charmed by her mother’s new lesbian relationship, so much so that she composes the eponymic punk-rock song, “A mi madre le gustan las mujeres,” which she sings to the family’s dismay and embarrassment, as all in attendance cringe, including Sofía and her lover, “Eliska” (Eliska Sirova), as well as Sol’s father, “Carlos” (Xabier Elorriaga), her two sisters, and Jimena’s husband and son. While Jimena and Elvira are immediately suspicious of Eliska and her intentions, after the concert, Sol begins to doubt her as well, and the three sisters decide that they must break up their mother and her lover by seducing Eliska. At first the trio visits a lesbian bar, in hopes of finding a seductress. They come up empty-handed, so Sol, who believes herself popular with lesbians, decides to 1

2     A MI MADRE LE GUSTAN LAS MUJERES

take on the task. During an outing at the park, Sol attempts to separate and then seduce Eliska. However, after having a deep conversation with her mother about Eliska, Elvira has second thoughts and comically interrupts Sol by chasing her down in a rowboat and clumsily tipping over into the water. As she is drying off, Elvira also shares a deep conversation with Eliska, and it appears that they are getting on well with one another. Eliska and Elvira’s budding friendship comes to a halt, however, when Elvira attempts to kiss her one night. Elvira’s character is stereotypically—even hysterically—insecure. When her date does not go well with writer “Miguel Bouzas” (Chisco Amado), whom she met while at a dinner with her publishing agent boss, “Bernardo” (Álex Angulo), Elvira runs to her mother for consolation. Throughout the film, Elvira’s complex relationship of dependency on her mother is questioned in Freudian tone by both her psychiatrist, “Ernesto” (Aitor Mazo), as well as Elvira herself. Sofía asks Eliska to accompany Elvira that evening for a drink, to help her have fun and forget about her troubles with men and inability to focus on her true love, writing. Returning home from the outing, an intoxicated Elvira attempts to kiss but is rejected by Eliska. Eliska promises not to tell Sofía, however, so as not to further complicate their mother-daughter relationship. This causes problems for Eliska and Sofía’s relationship, however, and Eliska returns home to Prague. The daughters, realizing the error of their ways, decide to travel to Prague to convince Eliska to return to Spain with them. Once home, the entire family comes together in idyllic fashion when Elvira’s now-boyfriend, Miguel Bouzas, marries Eliska so that she can stay in Spain with Sofía. After exchanging vows, Miguel turns and kisses Elvira, and Eliska turns and kisses Sofía. The officiant drops his Bible in shock, and the film then ends with the wedding reception, in which the entire family dances joyfully in a whole, complete circle around the women. Although the film ends with the happy reunion and acceptance of the lesbian couple by the family, because their relationship can only exist through a manipulation of marriage law, critics have condemned the film for simply upholding the familiar drive of heteronormativity, claiming that the film enables the Spanish queer imaginary to play with the appearance of social and political transgression without actually challenging the heteronormative complacency it is required to accommodate. In fact, the lesbian relationship serves as little less than a foil to secure the protagonist’s heterosexuality and to depict her as the savior of her mother’s happiness and family harmony. As the decision to allow gay marriage in Spain was clearly on the horizon, just a few years after the debut of A mi madre le gustan las mujeres, such a film allowed Spanish society to work through and normalize, on safe, heteronormative terms, such gay relationships. Finally, it is also not for naught, then, that the lesbian who initiates Sofía’s queerness is not Spanish but rather Czech. In such a sense, Eliska’s otherness as Eastern European—on the fringes of Western European society, not completely distinct from nor identical to the position of Spain in Europe—parallels her sexual otherness, allowing the Spanish imaginary to embrace, yet hold at a safe distance, the otherness of gay culture in Spain.

LOS ABRAZOS ROTOS      3

See also Habitación en Roma (Room in Rome); Kika (Kika); Mujeres al borde de un ataque de nervios (Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown); Los novios búlgaros (Bulgarian Lovers) Bibliography Pérez-Sánchez, Gema. “One Big Queer European Family? Immigration in Contemporary Spanish Gay and Lesbian Films.” In Twenty-First Century Gay Culture, edited by David A. Powell, 71–85. Newcastle upon Tyne, UK: Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2008. Perriam, Chris. Spanish Queer Cinema. Edinburgh, UK: Edinburgh University Press, 2013. Santaolalla, Isabel. Los “otros”: Etnicidad y “raza” en el cine español contemporáneo. Zaragoza: Prensas Universitarias de Zaragoza, 2005.

—Amanda Eaton McMenamin

LOS ABRAZOS ROTOS (BROKEN EMBRACES) (2009) Director: Pedro Almodóvar Screenplay: Pedro Almodóvar Specs: 128 minutes; color Directed by Pedro Almodóvar, Los abrazos rotos is a melodrama with elements of thriller-noir whose protagonist “Mateo Blanco” (Lluís Homar) is a screenwriter/filmmaker attempting to reconstruct his life after his lover, “Lena” (Penélope Cruz), dies in a tragic car crash—an incident in which Mateo also lost his eyesight. Extremely successful in terms of nominations and awards, Los abrazos rotos won the US Critics’ Choice Movie Awards for Best Foreign Language Film in 2009, Best Score at the Spanish Goya Awards (2010), as well as other awards and nominations. The film is based on an original screenplay written by Pedro Almodóvar, arguably the most internationally successful Spanish film director since Luis Buñuel, and one of the few to have received an Oscar for his films Todo sobre mi madre (All about My Mother, 1999) and Hable con ella (Talk to Her, 2002). Highly self-referential, Los abrazos rotos is, among other things, a tribute to the cinema, an exploration of family relations (between fathers and sons, husbands and wives), and a narrative of overcoming disability. Filmed in Madrid and on the island of Lanzarote (Canary Islands, Spain), the complicated plot is focused on Mateo. Qualified as “baroque” by several critics because of its Chinese-box-like complexity, the plot is structured through a series of flashbacks. The film opens in Madrid, 2008, with Harry Caine living in a family-like arrangement with his agent “Judit” (Blanca Portillo) and her 20-year-old son, “Diego” (Tamar Novas). While Mateo has his own place, it is obvious that he is partly cared for by Judit, as well as receiving assistance in his scriptwriting from the talented Diego. When Mateo hears that his one-time antagonist and wealthy businessman “Ernesto Martel” (José Luis Gómez) has died, he begins to recollect events from the past involving Martel’s young wife, Lena. Shortly thereafter, a mysterious man who goes by the name “Ray X” (Rubén Ochandiano) shows up

4     LOS ABRAZOS ROTOS

at Harry’s door asking to collaborate on a movie script. After suspecting he is none other than Ernesto Martel Jr., Mateo turns down Ray X’s request because of a past conflict with his millionaire father. The film then flashbacks to the early 1990s to explore the tragedy that killed Lena and blinded Mateo, a tragedy linked to both Ernesto and Ernesto Jr. As the film flashes back to 1992, Lena is introduced as an aspiring actor who works for Ernesto Martel as his secretary. Lena’s father is terminally ill with cancer, and neither she nor her mother has the money needed to pay the mounting medical bills. Martel steps in and takes care of their financial obligations, with the implicit understanding that Lena will, in exchange, become his mistress. The film then flashes forward to 1994, when Lena and Martel are living together as a couple. Not content with her status as “trophy” companion, Lena seeks and receives a part in a film that Mateo is directing, Chicas y maletas. Martel acquiesces to her wish to work and even agrees to produce the film (in order to keep a close eye on her), but soon becomes extremely jealous and suspicious of Mateo’s intentions toward Lena. He then asks his son, Ernesto Jr., to become a de facto spy for him, under the pretense that he is filming a “Making of Chicas y maletas” documentary. Martel soon discovers that Lena is having an affair with Harry. In a fit of angry jealousy, Martel pushes Lena down the stairs, breaking her leg. Racked by guilt, Ernesto promises Lena that he will allow her to conclude the film without further interference. Once done filming, Mateo and Lena secretly elope and move to Lanzarote. There, Lena and Mateo learn that their film has received terrible reviews, forcing Mateo to return to Madrid. As Mateo and Lena head to the Lanzarote airport, a car follows them. At the airport, as they stop their car and kiss goodbye, another vehicle rams them at full speed, resulting in Lena’s death and serious injuries for Mateo. At this point in the film’s labyrinthine-like plot, it is not clear who is responsible for this accident, but all indicators point to Ray X, also known as Ernesto Jr. At this juncture, Judit and her little boy, Diego, arrive in Lanzarote to pick up Mateo (now going by the pen name “Harry Caine” since he rejects his previous self as “dead”) and bring him back to Madrid to rebuild his shattered life. Back in Madrid in 2008, after the end of the initial extended flashback (which contained several flashforwards), Harry, Judit, and Diego go out to celebrate Harry’s birthday. After a few drinks, Judit decides to come clean and tell Harry what happened during the days leading to Lena’s death. She admits that, angry at Harry for abandoning Madrid with Lena, she and the film editor allowed the vengeful Ernesto Martel to sabotage the film Chicas y maletas by choosing the worst takes for each scene. She also admits that she provided Martel with Lena and Harry’s whereabouts in Lanzarote, and consequently, that she may have unwillingly facilitated the “accident.” Judit suggests that Ernesto Martel Jr. was the driver in the car that crashed into Harry and Lena, either at his father’s request or because he was also in love with Mateo and driven by jealousy. Then, the next morning, Judit tells Diego that Mateo is actually his father since she and Mateo had a brief love affair; Diego is thrilled to hear this since he already loves and admires Mateo like a father.

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In one of the emotive final scenes, Diego is describing for Mateo the footage filmed by Ernesto Jr. for the “Making of” documentary. There they discover a filmed scene that poignantly captures the last kiss between Lena and Mateo prior to the accident. As Diego describes the images, Mateo asks him to play them frame by frame to make the moment last longer, as he runs his hands on the flat screen in an (impossible) effort to feel and recapture those last (and lost) moments with Lena. The same scene reveals that Ernesto Jr. was not responsible for the accident but rather was filming when it occurred. Indeed, Ernesto Jr. was the first to try and help Mateo and Lena. After this cathartic revelation, Mateo abandons his pen name (Harry Caine) and goes back to being Mateo Blanco, having been “reborn.” The film closes with a new family unit restored, as Diego and Judit help Mateo to re-edit the film Chicas y maletas, this time with the correct takes, as a tribute to Lena’s memory. Among the most remarkable aspects of the film is that it places the notion of disability at its center and asserts the capacity of a blind artist to write scripts, edit, and direct films, challenging traditional notions about the disabled, making this, as critic Matthew J. Marr observes, a film of inclusiveness. Moreover, it is also a film about filmmaking, and one that, as theorist Marsha Kinder explains, engages a rich intertextuality with other works, including references and visual citations to Roberto Rosellini’s Journey to Italy (1954), Douglas Sirk’s Magnificent Obsession (1954), Ingmar Bergman’s Fanny and Alexander (1982), and Federico Fellini’s 8½ (1963), as well as several of Almodóvar’s own films, including Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown (1988) and Tie Me Up! Tie Me Down! (1990). See also Pedro Almodóvar (Appendix A); ¡Átame! (Tie Me Up! Tie Me Down); Penélope Cruz (Appendix A); Chus Lampreave (Appendix A); Mujeres al borde de un ataque de nervios (Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown) Bibliography Kinder, Marsha. “Restoring Broken Embraces: On Cinema’s Resilience, Intertextuality, and Father-Son Relations in Almodóvar’s 8½.” Film Quarterly 63, no. 3 (Spring 2010): 28–34. Marr, Matthew J. The Politics of Age and Disability in Spanish Film. New York: Routledge, 2013.

—Eduardo Ledesma

ABRE LOS OJOS (OPEN YOUR EYES) (1997) Director: Alejandro Amenábar Screenplay: Alejandro Amenábar and Mateo Gil Specs: 117 minutes; color Abre los ojos is the second of Alejandro Amenábar’s feature films. A science fiction thriller, it tells the story of a handsome young playboy who leads a successful life until a car accident disfigures his face and lands him in prison on a murder charge. The film was nominated for 10 Goyas, including Best Film and

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Fele Martínez and Penélope Cruz. Artisan Entertainment / Photofest © Artisan Entertainment

Best Director. After purchasing the rights for its international distribution, in 2001, American actor Tom Cruise produced a remake, Vanilla Sky, which was directed by Cameron Crowe and starred Cruise himself in the lead role. As in the best “what-is-reality” thrillers (David Fincher’s The Game is an obvious influence), the plot of Abre los ojos is full of twists and turns that make the viewer constantly wonder whether what happens on-screen is fact or fiction. After an enigmatic prologue, the film shows a psychiatric penitentiary where “César” (Eduardo Noriega) begins to narrate the events that, according to him, have taken him there. Wealthy, handsome, and popular with women, he has a bright future ahead of him. The night of his 25th birthday, “Pelayo” (Fele Martínez), his best friend, introduces him to “Sofía” (Penélope Cruz). It is love at first sight, and César soon steals Pelayo’s girlfriend. The day after, César meets “Nuria” (Najwa Nimri), a girl who is obsessively attached to him. Nuria offers him a ride and then, in an attack of jealousy, drives off a cliff. As a result of the accident, she dies, and he ends up with his face entirely disfigured. As time goes by, and after many failed attempts, the surgeons are unable to reconstruct his face. One day, César runs into Sofía, whom he had not seen since the night before the accident. Her attitude is not the same; she avoids him, and she is unable to look him in his face. César realizes how looks and appearances, something he had always taken for granted, can now ruin his life. Hopeless and embittered, he gets drunk until he passes out on the street. When he wakes up, nothing is what it seems. He begins his life again, but he is no longer sure about

ABRE LOS OJOS      7

anything. The dead are no longer dead, facts blend with fiction, and the present mixes with the past. César believes the whole world is conspiring against him, and he even intimates that he is having a nightmare. Only at the very end do we find out the truth: he has committed suicide after signing a contract with a cryonics company (Life Extension) so that, after his death, his body would be frozen and he could experience a virtual life in the future. Most of the events the film presents are nothing but a dream based on César’s most intimate desires, but, due to a technical error, it has turned into a nightmare. One of Life Extension’s representatives enters his virtual reality to suggest that the only way to end his nightmare is by dying again, this time within his own dream. César throws himself from the terrace roof of the Picasso Tower in Madrid and soon after wakes up to the reality of the 22nd century. As in Amenábar’s first feature film (Tesis, 1996), Abre los ojos is framed by a prologue and an epilogue that confer a circular structure to it. The movie opens with a black screen and silence that is broken by a female voice (Nuria), recorded on an alarm clock, which repeatedly whispers, “Open your eyes.” César wakes up and goes out. This will be the first of a long series of inversions that reoccur in the film from beginning to end. In reality, César’s awakening is to a dream in which he discovers that he is the only inhabitant in a deserted city. The prologue ends when the alarm clock rings again, implying that everything has been a nightmare. However, if we try to chronologically order the events, there is no way to determine at what time in César’s life the dream takes place, as we cannot establish whether it is part of his real or his virtual life. The novelty of Amenábar’s film lies in breaking lineal narrative and chronological time, and in creating a structure much more complex and baroque. Dreams are superimposed on reality and virtual reality on memories, so that we can only reconstruct the puzzle at the very end, once we get all of its pieces and the instructions to assemble it. This demands from the viewer much more deciphering than in Amenábar’s Ópera prima. Both this ontological insecurity that the characters suffer from and the film’s structure have a disturbing effect on the audience. From the very beginning, we get trapped in the film’s labyrinthine plot. Nuria’s words (“Abre los ojos”) at the beginning are addressed to César, but this happens before the character is even introduced, which turns us into its addressee. Its sense is also allegorical since, as we learn later on, the character is awakening not to reality but to his own nightmare. If we add to this the fact that in Abre los ojos the viewer witnesses a fiction in which the characters are, in their turn, viewers of other fictions, then we have the basis for the creation of a suspense that goes beyond the fear of the unexpected, so as to achieve an ontological dimension. Abre los ojos describes a world ruled by images. The characters’ lives are conditioned by the image they project onto others, revealing a fragile world of surfaces in which any alteration can end up changing their fate. Abre los ojos is also a tale of moral atonement about the vanity of beauty. Amenábar has confessed in several interviews how one of his purposes in Abre los ojos was to punish the character of Bosco in Tesis, also played by Eduardo Noriega, the archetype of the handsome and wealthy seducer who has the world at his feet. He is no longer here an executioner but a victim.

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It is not surprising that, in a film that so often reflects on the importance of the image, mirrors play a crucial role. On multiple occasions, César looks at himself in a mirror. As in the Borgesian universe, mirrors here not only reflect material reality but also distort it or multiply it ad infinitum. In the disco scene, for example, while César kneels to throw up, the mask that is turned backward toward us is reflected in multiple mirrors, producing an unsettling image. In his flight, after murdering Sofía, César sees himself deformed again in a mirror; his immediate reaction is to kick it to pieces, but as he kicks it over and over, the mirror turns into more pieces that, instead of stopping to reflect his grotesque face, multiply it and distort it even more. To this literal presence of mirrors in Abre los ojos we should add the use of the mirror as a structural model. The movie’s narrative arrangement responds to a pattern of repetitions and inversions that aim at questioning not only the characters’ identities but also the cinematic text itself and the viewer’s reality. Symmetries, dualities, and inversions in characterization underscore even more the characters’ ontological insecurity, as well as the theme of identity as performance. Sofía and Nuria are two expressions of the Eternal Feminine (tenderness and passion). The paternal figure, the psychiatrist, turns out to be nothing but a virtual projection, while an enigmatic TV character who happens to work for Life Extension ends up as such by adopting a paternal role. Pelayo is the faithful friend, but he abandons the protagonist when he needs him the most. César himself is the epitome of this spirit of duality as he is simultaneously the embodiment of beauty and ugliness. Amenábar’s repudiation of the fetishism of the image in consumer society is paradoxically carried out through an elaborate chain of images that penetrate into the deepest areas of the viewer’s unconscious. Some of them are memorable: the solitary city at the beginning, the scene of the park under the rain, and César’s jumping into the void from the Picasso Tower are only some of the most shocking in this film set in a Baudrillardian universe in which the repetition of images ends up dissolving the aura of the original and immerses us in the elusive realm of hyperreality and simulacra. See also Ágora (Agora); Alejandro Amenábar (Appendix A); Penélope Cruz (Appendix A); Mar adentro (The Sea Inside); Los otros (The Others); Regresión (Regression) Bibliography Jordan, Barry. Alejandro Amenábar. Manchester, England: Manchester University Press, 2012. Juan-Navarro, Santiago. “La pantalla especular: una lectura metatextual del cine de Alejandro Amenábar.” Letras Peninsulares 16, no. 1 (2003): 371–84.

—Santiago Juan-Navarro

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ACCIÓN MUTANTE (MUTANT ACTION) (1993) Director: Álex de la Iglesia Screenplay: Álex de la Iglesia and Jorge Guerricaechevarría Specs: 94 minutes; color Acción mutante is a 1993 film directed by Álex de la Iglesia. It tells the story of a terrorist group of disabled people in Spain whose members see themselves as mutants and who fight against the elites and “beautiful” people. The film won Best Special Effects, Best Direction Production, and Best Makeup and Hairstyles in the Goya Awards. It also received the Ignotus Award for Best Audiovisual Production and Best Song (from the band Def con Dos). The plot of the film revolves around the kidnapping of “Patricia Orujo” (Frédérique Feder) by the terrorist group Acción Mutante, led by “Ramón Yarritu” (Antonio Resines). Their intention is to make her father, “José María Orujo” (Fernando Guillén), pay the quantity of 100 million “ecus” as a ransom. With their leader Yarritu imprisoned, Acción Mutante tries to kidnap a bodybuilder, but they fail in their attempt because they did not plan carefully enough. The television channel JQK, through its presenter “J. Blanch” (Jaime Blanch), broadcasts some information about the terrorist group, stating that they have been active for the past 10 years. While listing the formation of Acción Mutante, the spectator realizes that all their members are treated without respect and with excessive police brutality. The group’s members are the “Siamese twins” (Álex Angulo and Juan Viadas), “Quimicefa” (Saturnino García), “Manitas” (Karra Elejalde), “M.A.” (Alfonso Martínez), and “Chepa” (Ion Gabella), accused of being a Jew, Freemason, communist, and homosexual. Yarritu, after spending his past five years in jail for illegal possession of weapons, gets out and is welcomed by his crew while listening to the song “Mission: Impossible” by Lalo Schifrin, foreshadowing Acción Mutante’s future actions. Yarritu has a master plan to infiltrate the wedding of Patricia Orujo and “Luis María de Ostolaza” (Enrique San Francisco) by hiding within their wedding cake. When explaining the plan to Yarritu’s crew, he has to reinforce his authority, telling them that he is indispensable and by reminding them that before they met him they were all trash but now they are all mutants, so that they see him as their savior. With Karina’s tune “Aires de Fiesta,” Acción Mutante opens fire on the wedding guests, killing many of them and kidnapping Patricia. Yarritu delivers a message to José María asking for a ransom for his daughter’s life. In exchange he is asking for 100 million ecus that have to be delivered to the Lost Mine bar, in the Devil’s Valley in Asturias. The members of Acción Mutante start questioning themselves about Yarritu, as he did not tell them that the reward was 100 million ecus. Yarritu panics and begins killing the members of his crew so that only he will obtain the money from the reward. The last fight on the ship takes place between Yarritu and the Siamese twins, resulting in the alleged death of the twins and the crash of the ship in the middle of a desert. On their way to meet with José María for the money, Yarritu finds out that Patricia has Stockholm syndrome and that she wants to collect the reward money and run away with him. While this happens, the Siamese twins are found by a blind man, who

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helps one of them by taking care of him, and they follow Yarritu’s footsteps as he is in love with Patricia. On their way to the Lost Mine bar, Yarritu and Patricia are found by “Zacarías” (Carlos Perea), who takes them to the house where he lives with his grandfather (Francisco Maestre) and his two brothers, “Ezequiel” (Santiago Segura) and “Abraham” (David Gil). Their intention is to purchase Patricia, but after Yarritu’s refusal they try to take her by force and abuse her; they fail in their attempt. When Yarritu and Patricia arrive at the bar, they are welcomed by some crazy miners. Luis María de Ostolaza had contacted the television channel JQK to broadcast the resolution of the kidnapping; it makes a stop in the broadcast to show a commercial about cereal with the name of Tripis (dose of LSD), showing the spectator that the entire movie could be seen as an acid trip. When the exchange takes place, Yarritu finds out that inside the briefcase there is no money. José María plans to kill everyone at the bar with a bomb because he has nothing left and his daughter’s dignity was corrupted by Acción Mutante. When the bomb explodes, Yarritu escapes and the only two people left at the bar are Patricia and Álex. See also Balada triste de trompeta (The Last Circus); Las brujas de Zugarramurdi (Witching & Bitching); La comunidad (Common Wealth); Crimen Ferpecto (The Perfect Crime); El día de la bestia (The Day of the Beast); Álex de la Iglesia (Appendix A) Bibliography Fonfría-Perera, Daniel. “El nuevo hombre español en Acción Mutante.” Polifonía: Revista académica de estudios hispánicos 5, no. 1 (2015): 1–18 Triana-Toribio, Núria. Spanish National Cinema. London: Routledge, 2003.

—Abraham Prades Mengibar

ÁGORA (AGORA) (2009) Director: Alejandro Amenábar Screenplay: Alejandro Amenábar and Mateo Gil Specs: 126 minutes; color Reportedly costing approximately €50 million, the sword-and-sandal historical fiction film Ágora, directed by noted Chilean-Spanish director Alejandro Amenábar, was and remains the most expensive film ever produced by the Spanish film industry. The film chronicles—or, in some cases, invents—key moments from the life of one of the most famous female natural philosophers of classical antiquity, Hypatia of Alexandria (d. 415). Hypatia (Rachel Weisz) is thought to have borne witness to two civilizational conflicts in her city, Roman Alexandria: between a polytheistic minority and a Christian majority, and then between two competing visions of the early Christian church, as espoused by Bishop Cyril of Alexandria (Sami Samir) and Hypatia’s former student Orestes (Óscar Isaac), specifically whether Christianity should tolerate other creeds or instead seek to exterminate non-Christians such as Jews, or “pagans”—and the knowledge they gathered. Beginning with scenes of Hypatia’s lectures to eager students,

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Christian and non-Christian alike, the film depicts both Hypatia’s own progress toward the theory of heliocentric and elliptical orbits of the planets, and the city’s growing intolerance toward non-Christians. Hypatia’s murder by Christian fanatics brings the film to its poignant conclusion. Relatively little is known of Hypatia or indeed any of these figures with the exception of Cyril, and even Cyril’s role in what happened to Hypatia remains hotly disputed. As a consequence, for better or worse, the film takes considerable creative liberties with its story. For example, in addition to the protagonists already identified, the film also features an entirely fictional figure, namely “Davus” (Max Minghella), a slave in Hypatia’s household who is tormented by his forbidden love—and lust—for her. It is this that soon after drives him, seeking spiritual solace, into the arms of the extremists within the Christians, yet even after the dramatic reversal of power in the city, when his faction is ascendant and he dares to begin sexually assaulting her, he cannot seem to commit to his new cause fully—a trace of a purer love remains for Hypatia. It is no doubt this lingering devotion motivates his act of mercy in the film’s final moments, when Hypatia is captured; after trying and failing to rescue her, he delivers the coup de grace relatively painlessly, before they can stone her to death. In one of its other inventions, the film identifies Hypatia as a witness to, and a spirited critic of, the callous destruction of the Sarapeum (a secondary center of learning that rose to prominence in the city after the destruction of the Great Library, and that the film misidentifies as the library itself) in 391. Amenábar paints a deeply critical portrait of the Christian iconoclasts, who vent their fury at the pagans not only on the statues of the gods but—in the film’s most remarkable sequence—on the scrolls collecting centuries of knowledge belonging to the “pagan sinners,” hurling them through the air with gleeful abandon to flutter into a forlorn pile in the center of the building, under the open sky. Somber music plays in the background, while the diegetic sounds of the iconoclastic assault remain faintly audible. As the attackers wreak havoc on the scrolls, the camera turns heavenward and to the Pantheon-like circular hole in the roof above, its gaze almost supplicatory, looking up to heaven in mute protest, a view interrupted occasionally by the scrolls that continue to be hurled into the air, before the world literally turns all the way upside down. The camera, now turned 180 degrees on its head, shows the destruction progressing, with the ruined scrolls tumbling through the air, before slowly zooming out and away, then cutting to an aerial shot showing the book bonfires being fed far below, the action suddenly speeding up to suggest the passage of long moments as the black-clad attackers run to and fro, burning the knowledge of centuries. Fittingly, the last image as the sequences ends is Hypatia under the stars, weeping as she watches the destruction progress from a remote location, and the last words spoken are between her and a household slave, who says, in an exchange that is clearly as much about the city itself as it is about her injured father, “[His] wound is festering,” to which she tearfully whispers, “I know . . . I know.” The filmic Hypatia, we learn, weathers this loss of knowledge and the antiscientific revolution in her city, and even manages, years later, to arrive at a key mathematical insight. All the thinkers before her (and, as it happens, all those who followed her for over a thousand years, until Kepler at last arrived

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at the same conclusion as she) erred in assuming that because circles are the most perfect shape, the hallowed heavenly bodies must move in circular orbits. In the absence of any tangible historical evidence on the content or significance of Hypatia’s work, since nothing written by her has survived, the film chooses to credit her, soon before her death, with the prescient idea that each heavenly body, including the Earth itself, must in fact be moving in an elliptical orbit, or in other words an orbit with two foci, two centers, instead of one. This is the guiding metaphor of the film. It has two centers, one its secular historical/scientific story, and the other its timeless depiction of religious fundamentalism—the terrifying specter of individuals and groups willing to kill others in the name of what they believe. At several points throughout the film, the camera takes a literally cosmic view, showing the Earth spinning through the void of space before narrowing in on the particular city of Alexandria, a palpable reminder both of the history of that city and the potential universality of the events there. With the benefit of this cosmic perspective, viewers are doubtless more likely to decide that what happened in that specific place, all those years ago, could happen—or perhaps, is already happening—today as well. And by nurturing audience identification with and empathy for the utterly blameless character of Hypatia, viewers’ indignation and horror at her unjust murder—and the wider implications of dogmatic, antiscientific, and starkly misogynistic iconoclasm—reach melodramatic proportions. That indignation is directed not so much at any one religion per se (in addition to its focus on the violence of the early Christians, the film also depicts pagans and Jews as willing to kill others for doctrinal reasons, or slights against their gods) as at religious fundamentalism itself. At times, Amenábar’s desire to demonize religious fundamentalists causes him to play fast and loose with the historical record. Much pressure in the second half of the film, set in the year 415, is brought to bear on Hypatia to convert and be baptized publicly as a Christian. Two of her former students, the bishop Synesius (Rupert Evans) and the prefect Orestes, begin to plead, cajole, and at times outright threaten her to renounce “heretical” science and join them, stating in no uncertain terms that if she does not, nothing and no one will be able to guarantee her safety. Hypatia’s response to Synesius crystallizes the issue: “You don’t question what you believe; you cannot. I must!” Synesius becomes quite nasty, shaking his head at “the insane things you invoke . . . the Earth moving around the sun. What next?” This portrayal of Synesius (now revealed as a representative of the same unyielding religious fundamentalism as her archnemesis Cyril) and his disapproved of Hypatia’s scientific experiments and theories is unfortunate, as the historical Synesius maintained a close relationship, including some extant letters to her, in her role as his former teacher, in which he praises her in a tone almost of reverence. Indeed, so devoted was he to her and to their shared goal of scientific inquiry that he is usually assumed to have died no later than 413 or 414, prior to Hypatia’s own murder in 415. This is because if he had been alive at that time, it seems unlikely he could have failed to mention, in all his many letters to various correspondents, the death of one so close to him. Synesius’s letters are, in fact, the most direct evidence in the historical record that Hypatia even existed.

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There is one final aspect to this film worthy of note. With the exception of the disturbing near-rape scene between Davus and Hypatia, Amenábar elects to leave Hypatia and her other potential lover, namely Orestes, in a platonic friendship rather than ever suggesting, much less showing, that the two of them consummated their love. The first half of the narrative appeared to be building toward a love triangle, the age-old story of two male rivals (Orestes and Davus) struggling over the same woman, but instead, that logic is rejected, and the love of both Davus and Orestes for Hypatia must be spiritual rather than physical. After her firm refusal to convert to Christianity, Orestes breaks down in tears, murmuring, “Hypatia, don’t you see? I can’t go on without you . . . I cannot. Without you, I cannot defeat Cyril.” Weisz’s Hypatia has a powerful reply, one full not of disdain but genuine pity: “Oh, Orestes. Cyril has already won.” She touches his face, moved by compassion, and then walks out—to her death, as it happens. With this scene, it becomes clear that the real triangle is by no means a conventional conflict over heterosexual romance. The two sides, so to speak, are Cyril/Synesius on the side of intolerance versus Hypatia, who stands for secular science, for peace and acceptance, and it is a spiritual battle over the souls of wafflers like Orestes and Davus, caught between these powerful poles and unwilling to do the right thing—namely, act to protect not so much Hypatia herself as the ideals she represents. So we see that, in the end, Hypatia was right: if Orestes is unwilling to take a stand against the pressure to convert everyone in the city forcibly, then Cyril and his ilk have indeed already won. The film’s lionization of Hypatia leaves little doubt that, in the mind of the director, Orestes and anyone else willing to kowtow to people like Cyril, representatives of an intolerant fundamentalism, have erred and would do well to choose Hypatia, a beacon of scientific inquiry and tolerance instead. See also Abre los ojos (Open Your Eyes); Alejandro Amenábar (Appendix A); Mar adentro (The Sea Inside); Los otros (The Others); Regresión (Regression) Bibliography Bradshaw, Peter. “Agora.” Guardian. 2010. https://www.theguardian.com/film/2010/ apr/22/agora-review (October 12, 2015).

—Sean O’Reilly

LOS AIRES DIFÍCILES (ROUGH WINDS) (2006) Director: Gerardo Herrero Screenplay: Ángeles González-Sinde and Alberto Macías, based on the eponymous 2002 novel by Almudena Grandes Specs: 117 minutes; color This film features a truly heavyweight crew, with one of the titans of Spanishlanguage cinema, Gerardo Herrero, at the helm, and, as co-screenwriter, Ángeles González-Sinde Reig, Spain’s minister of culture from 2009 to 2011 and a deeply controversial figure due to her sponsorship of an anti-film-piracy/illegal-downloading law that came to be known eponymously as the Sinde law. With such

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José Luis García Pérez and Carme Elias. © Photofest

high-profile figures among the crew, it is perhaps no surprise that Rough Winds (the English translation of the Spanish title) maintains consistently high production values throughout. The film is also carefully and consistently paced, though at almost two hours' running time, the pace is rather slow. The story, which is adapted from the popular novel Los aires difíciles (available in English translation as The Wind from the East) by Almudena Grandes, herself surrounded by no little political controversy, centers diachronically on the protagonist, “Juan,” and his various romantic and familial entanglements. Following a troubled childhood, in which a rather passive Juan was ruthlessly harassed by his older brother, “Damián,” and the latter’s compadre, “Nicanor”—even to the point of having his girlfriend and femme fatale “Charo” stolen away by the more aggressive Damián—Juan became a doctor and lived in the big city (Madrid). Many years later, a now middle-aged but still, it would seem, sexually irresistible Juan feels compelled to leave the city and resettles in Cadiz with his mentally handicapped younger brother “Alfonso,” his young niece “Tamara” (who is the now deceased Charo’s daughter), and his pretty but unsophisticated housekeeper “Maribel.” To the surprise of no one, Juan and Maribel are inexorably drawn together, leading to several salacious scenes of intimacy in the nude; because the film focuses its attention almost relentlessly on this perhaps less-pristine side of Juan’s personality, showing various other romantic liaisons, the audience naturally will begin to question initial assumptions about Juan and why he came to Cadiz. Was it simply for a change of pace, or could there be some darker reason? Clearly, Damián too must be deceased, if his daughter Tamara is living with her uncle instead of with him, and Damián must have died relatively soon after Charo’s death in a car accident. When Damián’s best friend Nicanor, now a po-

ALATRISTE      15

lice detective, shows up and all but accuses Juan of murdering his brother, the other pieces of this soap opera fall into place: suffice it to say, Juan and Damián had ample motive for a violent confrontation, partly because of the doubts as to Tamara’s true paternity. The most remarkable sequence of the entire film, which makes full use of the film medium to create discord between dialogue and image, occurs at the very end, as Juan confesses to a close friend and erstwhile love interest, “Sara.” He admits Damián did die in an accidental fall down the stairs while he and Juan were arguing. Crosscut with this confession in the present day is a flashback within Juan’s own mind showing what happened on that fateful night months earlier. In the beginning, the images on the screen appear to confirm Juan’s account to Sara, but gradually, his words and the on-screen images diverge, and the viewer realizes in a flash that Juan, seemingly the victim in this entire sordid tale of forbidden love and family drama, is perhaps no different from Damián after all—and possibly even worse, as he is a much more convincing liar. And on this discordant note, which casts delicious doubt on all the viewer’s assumptions throughout the film, Rough Winds ends. While not a masterpiece stylistically, the film is consistently shot to take full advantage of the beautiful locations of Cadiz, and its slow pace will appeal to those wishing to indulge in an extended look into the surprisingly dark heart of a seemingly irreproachable character, as well as any who wish to appreciate the visual appeal of Spain’s landscape itself. See also Atlas de geografía humana (Atlas of Human Geography); Las razones de mis amigos (Friends Have Reasons) Bibliography Holland, Jonathan. “Rough Winds Hits Malaga.” Variety. 2006. http://variety.com/2006/ film/news/rough-winds-hits-malaga-1117940409/ (October 12, 2015).

—Sean O’Reilly

ALATRISTE (ALATRISTE) (2006) Director: Agustín Díaz Yanes Screenplay: Agustín Díaz Yanes and Arturo Pérez-Reverte Gutiérrez, based on the “Captain Alatriste” series of historical novels by Pérez-Reverte Specs: 145 minutes; color The most expensive Spanish-language film ever produced in Spain, and secondmost expensive Spanish film of any kind (after Ágora), Alatriste is a historical fiction film about the life and eventual death of an intrepid Spanish soldier named Diego Alatriste and his (mis)adventures both in Flanders and elsewhere during the 17th-century Thirty Years’ War and also back home in Spain. It introduces a sizable array of secondary characters, culled both from history and from the epic historical fiction novels in the “Captain Alatriste” series by co-screenwriter Pérez-Reverte, whom we might call the “Alexandre Dumas of Spain” (with Alatriste, of course, as D’Artagnan). The film squeezes together elements of

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Eduardo Noriega and Viggo Mortensen. 20th Century Fox / Photofest © 20th Century Fox

the plots of the five novels that had been published up until 2006 and, thanks to input from Pérez-Reverte, also incorporates material from some of the thenunpublished novels (some of which were subsequently published). Due to this compressed structure, adapting well over 1,500 pages of written material and several complex webs of relationships between a staggering array of characters, the film proceeds at a breathless pace despite its lengthy 145-minute running time. Those unfamiliar with the novels, or at least the basic plot structure and major characters, may find the film’s story difficult to follow at times. This is particularly true of the several brief scenes periodically inserted, with little to no explanation, to illustrate critical moments in one of the novel series’ many subplots; they will be perfectly comprehensible to readers of the books and yet perfectly mystifying to viewers who have not read the books. One might conceive of this issue as both the greatest blessing and the greatest curse of hiring the author of the original work on which the film is based to write the screenplay: the author helps ensure fidelity to the original, but, being a novelist, is perhaps unaware of the difficulties in translating the novelistic story legibly into the medium of film. The film begins with an impressive action sequence showing “Alatriste”— played by the polyglossic Danish-American Viggo Mortensen—and his men under cover of darkness, wading through chest-deep water while carefully holding their muskets over their heads, and preparing to ambush artillery emplacements of the Dutch rebels against the Spanish crown. The sneak attack is largely successful, but one of Alatriste’s companions is shot, and as he dies, commends

ALATRISTE      17

his son “Íñigo de Balboa” (played by Unax Ugalde Gutiérrez once he reaches adulthood) into Alatriste’s care. The father-son relationship between Alatriste and Íñigo is one of the three central relationships in the film, along with the romantic attachments between Alatriste and the beguiling “María de Castro” (Ariadna Gil), who is also the lover of King Philip IV himself, on the one hand, and between Íñigo and the young noblewoman “Angélica de Alquézar” (Elena Anaya) on the other. Periodically, Alatriste’s forceful personality gets him exiled out of Madrid and the delicate balance of power there and back into the increasingly dirty, plodding life of a soldier on the front lines of the ongoing war. Neither romantic relationship comes to a happy conclusion, but Alatriste does manage to impart to Íñigo a measure of wisdom, sending him away from the outer edges of the fabled tercio military formation (and thereby saving his life) in the climactic battle of Rocroi in 1643, where, at last, even Alatriste’s formidable luck—and soldierly skill—runs out. Unsurprisingly, given the epic scale of the story and the film’s ambitions to re-create the heyday of the Spanish empire, no effort (or, judging from the film’s budget, expense) was spared in painstakingly re-creating the mise-en-scène of the period. Detail was lavished on everything from the period costumes and hairstyles to the re-creations of famous Velasquez paintings shown on-screen to the groomed appearance of historical figures such as King Philip IV. At times the mise-en-scène is so lush the viewer could be forgiven for suspecting the film crew had somehow re-created the spatial and physical conditions for a Vermeer painting, and yet into this visual opulence strides Alatriste, wearing the same tattered clothes and ratty boots as always, his presence an intentional visual affront to the elites he visits, a stark reminder of what it is like for the “boots on the ground” when the kings and strategists casually decide to send the army to attack this or that enemy stronghold. The grittiness of the depictions of actual combat may be based in part on Pérez-Reverte’s own experiences as a modernday eyewitness to the horrors of war, since prior to becoming a writer, he worked as a journalist and war correspondent. The viewer is treated to frequent close-ups of characters’ faces, especially of Alatriste’s wistful expression every time the latest political reversal has conspired to send him back to the front. This cinematographic focus on the reactions of characters to their fates ensures audiences will be immersed in the emotional landscape of the film. The rapid-fire editing keeps the pace from ever dragging, although to achieve this, it excises much of the exposition. Characters almost never explain what they are doing, much less why, and indeed there is relatively little dialogue in proportion to total screen time. Frequently, Alatriste is suddenly and often wordlessly attacked on the street by agents of this or that political faction, and only viewers fully concentrating on the intricacies of the plot will be able to recall who this group is and why they want Alatriste dead or incapacitated. It seems adapting an enormous story, epic in its scale, into even quite a long film creates near-insurmountable problems for the resulting film’s narrative. Waste too much screen time on exposition, and the film will quickly balloon in length even more; include too little, and the story becomes too elliptical to be

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easily followed. Alatriste attempts to balance these two tendencies but strays dangerously close to the latter pole at times. The film makes a concerted effort to celebrate the halcyon days of the Spanish empire, even going to the point of distorting history to do so. In particular, it lauds Spanish bravery in the battle of Rocroi, which is shot in such a way, using high-angle aerial shots including large swaths of empty ground surrounding the Spanish army (to emphasize its small size) on the one hand, and low-angle shots of the ridge filled to the brim with menacing French cavalry and infantry on the other, as to imply quite strongly that the Spanish tercio is impossibly outnumbered by the French army. In fact, the two armies were at approximate parity in strength, making the outcome of the battle far from certain, and exposing the crushing Spanish defeat as not the inevitable result of being heavily outnumbered but a failure of strategy and tactics. The scene also features a funeral march as background music for this doomed Spanish resistance, further emotionalizing this key turning point in Spanish history. The stalwart last stand in the battle of Rocroi, as depicted in the film, becomes a pointed statement on national character: even facing certain defeat, the Spanish will continue their brave, quixotic resistance. However, this heroic visual portrayal is also combined with the shocking on-screen tally of dead and injured during the battle—violence at its most visceral—thereby making the film by no means “pro-war,” only “pro-Spain.” Viewers unfamiliar with the period depicted may find the film rewarding for its rich attention to detail yet struggle to follow its elliptical coverage of that period and its fictional hero, Alatriste, and may or may not find themselves convinced by its climactic paean to what was, in essence, the swan song not only of Alatriste but of the Spanish empire itself. See also Ágora (Agora) Bibliography Holland, Jonathan. “Alatriste.” Variety. 2006. http://variety.com/2006/film/marketsfestivals/alatriste-1200513074/ (October 12, 2015).

—Sean O’Reilly

EL ALQUIMISTA IMPACIENTE (THE IMPATIENT ALCHEMIST) (2002) Director: Patricia Ferreira Screenplay: Patricia Ferreira and Enrique Jiménez Specs: 110 minutes; color El alquimista impaciente is a Spanish-Argentinian coproduction made in 2002 and based on the crime novel of the same title by Lorenzo Silva published in 2000. Silva’s novel is the second installment of his “Bevilacqua Series,” starring Sergeant Ruben “Vila” Bevilacqua, a criminal investigator at the Guardia Civil (Spain’s paramilitary national police force) and his female assistant, Virginia Chamorro. The novel was granted the Nadal Award, arguably one of the most

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prestigious literary prize in Spain, in 2000 and was the first work of Silva's to be brought to the big screen. The film adaptation was in the hands of Patricia Ferreira, who wrote and directed the film in collaboration with the scriptwriter Enrique Jiménez. Ferreira is one of the growing number of female filmmakers emerging in Spain in the 21st century, although she is by no means a newcomer. After working as a film critic and journalist for a short period, Ferreira had a long career as a producer, writer, and director in Spanish national television (TVE) and made a successful debut as film director in 2000 with the psychological thriller Sé quién eres (I Know Who You Are). El alquimista impaciente is her second film and won the prize for Best Adapted Screenplay awarded by the Cinema Writers Circle, an important association of film critics and screenwriters in Spain. The film was also nominated for the Goya Awards for Best New Actor (Roberto Enríquez as the male protagonist “Bevilacqua”) and Best Art Direction (Rafael Palmero). Closely following the story of Silva’s novel, Ferreira’s film presents a crime/ police drama in which Bevilacqua and his colleague “Chamorro” (Ingrid Rubio) investigate the death of “Trinidad Soler,” an ordinary engineer of a nuclear power plant who is found dead in a motel under unclear circumstances. Everything points to an unfortunate accident that merely reveals the double life of the man: on the one hand, a serious worker and lovely husband-father with problems of stress; on the other hand, a man who secretly has sex with an expensive prostitute and takes a huge amount of drugs. Nevertheless, Bevilacqua and Chamorro conduct the investigation suspecting something is missing from this double-life narrative. Unfortunately, after visiting the nuclear facilities and the skeptical widow of the engineer, the lack of evidence forces them to close the case, although they both keep wondering about the real story behind Trinidad’s death. A few months later, the discovery of the corpse of the prostitute gives the police investigators the opportunity to reopen the case. This time, Bevilacqua and Chamorro deal with the East European Mafia, unscrupulous land developers, and a seductive and powerful magnate, among other suspicious characters, unravelling an unexpected network of business and sexual relationships, corruption, and murder in which Trinidad was at the same time victim and victimizer. Aesthetically and narratively, Ferreira’s adaptation of El alquimista impaciente moves within, but also personalizes, the generic conventions of the usual film noir. On the one hand, the film displays a few recurrent elements of the genre, such as a jazzy melancholic music, a lighting style of blue tones, and iconographic locations such as luxury mansions, a squalid road motel, empty landscapes outside the city, and a pseudo-posh nightclub. Moreover, there are also some recognizable characters of a classic crime story, from the investigator couple and the chief police officer to diluted versions of the “bad guys” and the femme fatale, to a narration that includes the usual explicative voice-over of the investigator along with a not-very-clear flashback structure. However, on the other hand, both the novel and the film represent a particular interpretation of the police investigation drama adopting a more realistic approach within the context of contemporary Spain. For instance, the protagonist couple are not heroic investigators or traumatized cops but rather quite ordinary public servants leading a boring, solitary life (Bevilacqua spends his free time painting toy soldiers

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at home, while Chamorro does homework for taking a degree in astronomy). Although a sexual tension/attraction between them, particularly from Bevilacqua’s perspective, is manifested in some scenes, the working environment defines to a great extent their relationship and strongly determines their few, and generally awkward, moments of intimacy. In addition, beyond the relations between the characters, Ferreira’s film focuses on the deductive side of the investigation and keeps to a minimum the exhibition of violence, gunplay, and action scenes, limiting them to the persecution of a suspect and the final arrest of the criminal in the last sequence. In this sense, El alquimista impaciente offers a plausible narrative of crime and police inquiry in actual Spanish society through the lens of the noir genre. See also Patricia Ferreira (Appendix A); Historias del Kronen (Stories from the Kronen); Els nens salvatges / Los niños salvajes (The Wild Ones) Bibliography Silva, Lorenzo. El alquimista impaciente. Barcelona: Ediciones Destino, 2000. Zecchi, Barbara. Desenfocadas: Cineastas españolas y discursos de género. Barcelona: Icaria Editorial, 2014.

—Alejandra Armendáriz Hernández

AMADOR (AMADOR) (2010) Director: Fernando León de Aranoa Screenplay: Fernando León de Aranoa Specs: 113 minutes; color Amador (2010) is a film directed by Fernando León de Aranoa. The film competed at the Guadalajara International Film Festival of 2011, winning prizes for Best Director and Best Actress in the Ibero-American feature category. The film was also screened (out of competition) as an official selection at the Berlin International Film Festival of 2011. The film tells the story of “Marcela” (Magaly Solier) and “Nelson” (Pietro Sibille), a couple of illegal Bolivian immigrants who lead poverty-stricken lives in the slums of Madrid. Nelson, along with his countrymen, survives by stealing discarded flowers from the trash bins of Mercaflor to sell them on the streets. Nelson, the leader of this enterprise, in which he works alongside African immigrants, turns his apartment into an office where flowers are revitalized. The process consists of washing and perfuming the flowers with aerosols and preserving them in a refrigerator. Nelson believes that it is an infallible business since life’s three greatest events—birth, marriage, and death—are celebrated with flowers. Marcela, tired of living an unstable life, decides to abandon him but realizes that she is pregnant. Henceforth, their relationship becomes increasingly complicated because Nelson is unfaithful and does not want children. The couple’s economic condition worsens after their refrigerator breaks down. Nelson, a male chauvinist, suggests that Marcela should work to buy a new one. She gets a job taking care of “Amador” (Celso Bugallo), an elderly man

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Magaly Solier. Film Movement / Photofest © Film Movement

who is confined to his bed. His daughter, “Yolanda” (Sonia Almarcha), is unable to care for him because she lives out of town with her husband, supervising the construction of their beach house. The movie elapses in Amador’s bedroom. Every day he puts together a puzzle of hundreds of pieces that make up a landscape of the sea, the ocean, and clouds. It is an image symbolic of his desire for freedom. In the beginning, his behavior toward Marcela is tense and hostile, due mainly to the mistrust of the old man along with his loneliness and abandonment. His only escapades are his weekly encounters with “Puri” (Fanny de Castro), a prostitute who punctually visits him every Thursday, and his sentimental correspondence with an anonymous lover. Eventually Amador and Marcela establish a cordial relationship. In a key scene, Amador discovers Marcela’s pregnancy, which had previously passed unnoticed. It made Amador reflect upon the cyclical nature of life. He realizes the baby will occupy his place in the world once he passes away. The plot twists when Amador dies unexpectedly. Marcela has to face a profound moral dilemma: reporting the incident and losing full payment for her services or continuing her routine. Swayed by poverty, she chooses the second option. However, she lives tormented by the guilt of not having allowed Amador to rest in peace. Marcela’s plan—which consists of filling the room with flowers, buying a fan and bottles of flower aerosol to mollify the smell of the decomposing body—works well for a few days, regardless of a neighbor’s (Eleazar Ortiz) constant questions regarding Amador’s health.

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The surprising outcome of the film happens on a morning in which Marcela finds the door of the apartment open, with Yolanda and her husband inside. The daughter, rather than complaining about the concealment of the news, asks her to continue her routine with normality for a month or two, because she needed her father’s pension to finish the construction of her house. Marcela understands that Yolanda has an unconcerned attitude because she already knows about the death. This is shown visually: Marcela had previously found a candy wrapper in Amador’s kitchen, which worried her, because apparently nobody visited the house. However, as she conversed with Yolanda in a cafe, she looked out the window as her husband threw out a wrapper just like the one she had found. From a technical point of view, Amador effectively uses many close-up shots to highlight a wide range of reactions, mainly on Marcela’s face. The film presents a cruel yet realistic perspective regarding immigration conflicts and the dehumanization of a society dominated by personal benefit and material interests. Nelson and his coworkers are ridiculed by a group of his countrymen who are the custodians of the flower company and who had formally joined the Spanish labor system. Ironically, Nelson is abusive toward some of the Africans who work for him. At the same time, Yolanda’s egotistical attitude is a symptom of a society that has lost its humanity and in which individuals are treated as disposable objects. In the end, Amador’s vital lesson endures: regardless of misfortune and injustice, life goes on, like the perfume of flowers, which persists even after they are dead. See also Barrio (Neighborhood); Fernando León de Aranoa (Appendix A); Los lunes al sol (Mondays in the Sun) Bibliography Holland, Jonathan. “Amador.” Variety. 2010. http://variety.com/2010/film/reviews/amador -1117943850/ (October 12, 2015).

—Chrystian Zegarra

EL AMANTE BILINGÜE (THE BILINGUAL LOVER) (1993) Director: Vicente Aranda Screenplay: Vicente Aranda, based on a novel by Juan Marsé Specs: 105 minutes; color El amante bilingüe is a 1993 film directed by Vicente Aranda. The film features the story of a Catalan man who loses his mind as a result of his wife’s abandonment and develops a charnego personality—a pejorative word for Spanish immigrants in Catalonia—in order to get her back. It is a grotesque satire that uses drama and comedy to reproduce the social, linguistic, and political context of Catalan society during the 1970s. Vicente Aranda, better known for his 1990 film Amantes (Lovers), was nominated for El amante bilingüe, but did not win, in the category of Best Adapted Screenplay in the 1994 Goya Awards. He was awarded a budget of 164 million pesetas (then about $1.36 million USD or 1.04 million Euros) by the Spanish Cultural Ministry and the Catalan government for the film’s shooting.

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The film is an adaptation of the Spanish novel El amante bilingüe, known in English as The Bilingual Lover, written in 1990 by Juan Marsé. The novel explores individual and collective identity through the main character, “Juan Marés,” whose identity evolves and melts with the charnego “Faneca.” During his identity crises, Marés uses the Andalusian Spanish dialect and dresses as a charnego to recover his Catalan bourgeois wife, who feels a powerful attraction to them. The book is known for its strong criticism of Catalan nationalism and its rigid social strata. The author defends intercultural relations and shows the consequences of opposing Catalan and Spanish national identities, which is reflected in Marés’s final schizophrenic state of mind. The plot of the film revolves around “Juan Marés” (Imanol Arias) and his life after his wife, “Norma Valentí” (Ornella Muti), abandons him. The film begins with a flashback of Marés’s childhood. He introduces the neighborhood he grew up in, his has-been singer-mother, and his father, who performed as a Chinese magician. The youthful memories end with Marés’s voice-over stating his everpresent desire of escaping these humble origins, and he assures the viewer that his wife, Valentí, helped him accomplish this. Marés then narrates another episode of his life: the day that, after five years of being married, he walked in on his wife sleeping with another man, a shoeshiner charnego. Valentí gets dressed and announces that she is leaving him and that he is allowed to keep the apartment, paid for by her wealthy family. Marés then proceeds to explain to the shoe-shiner how he and Valentí had met. He initiates a new flashback in a photography gallery. After looking at the photos on display, Marés tries to exit the gallery, when he encounters Valentí. She explains that he cannot leave because the building is being locked down to protest the death penalties of the proceso de Burgos. Known in English as the Burgos trial, this historical event is real and refers to the 1970 trial to judge 16 members of the terrorist organization ETA. Marés and Valentí fall in love during the protest and shortly after that he meets the bourgeois Valentí family, and they marry. Once the protagonist is done remembering, the shoe-shiner leaves the apartment. Marés’s reaction is to put on “Perfidia” by Nat King Cole. Following their breakup, the protagonist leads a homeless kind of lifestyle. Dressed in distinctive attire, he plays the accordion for money in the center of Barcelona. During one of his performances in front of a booth endorsing the standardization of the Catalan language, a group of Spanish nationalists destroys the promotional stand; at that point, Marés starts playing the Catalan anthem with the accordion, and as a result, the nationalists attack and deface him. Some years pass. Marés’s apparel is completely transformed: he covers the facial scars of the Spanish nationalist attack with a mask and disguises himself under a black hat and cape; his new appearance bears resemblance to the Phantom of the Opera. Despite their separation, Valentí is still a large part of the protagonist’s life. Pretending to be a charnego who does not speak Catalan, Marés repeatedly calls his ex-wife, who now works for the Catalan government in the office of linguistic assistance. Using a strong Andalusian accent, he requests help in how to spell numerous women’s clothing items in Catalan and gets stimulated by her voice. Marés also routinely follows her after work, shouting sexual phrases at her that she relishes; Valentí does not suspect that

24     EL AMANTE BILINGÜE

the homeless charnego disguised in a black costume that screams these words is her ex-husband. One night, while watching television, Marés falls asleep and dreams about his second self charnego, Faneca. Faneca introduces himself as a childhood friend of Marés and assures the protagonist that Valentí will love him again if Marés incarnates him. A few days later, Marés acts in accordance with Faneca’s recommendations and, making the most of the costumes his father used for embodying a Chinese magician, dresses up as a charnego; Marés covers his facial scars with a wig, an eye patch, and a moustache, and he also wears a contact lens in his exposed eye. Excited to experiment with his new outfit and personality, Marés visits his neighbor “Griselda” (Loles León), also a charnega from Sevilla. Telling the woman that he works for the Catalan government and that they need her to participate in a poll, she allows him to interview her in the apartment. Marés seduces her right away, making up a brave past in which he lost an eye in a bullfighting ring, and they make love. From this point forward, Marés confirms his transformation to Faneca and does not return to his previous identity. Faneca starts a relationship with Griselda while he plans how to reconcile with Valentí. Finally, he decides to call her at home and request a meeting. Faneca announces he is a friend of Marés and explains to Valentí that her ex-husband is missing but left something to be delivered to her: a notebook. She agrees to receive Faneca at home late in the afternoon. During their meeting, Valentí assures him that she does not have feelings for Marés anymore; however, she still keeps the notebook her ex-husband wrote for her. Before Faneca leaves, she asks for his number. He states that he does not have one yet but assures he will call her soon. Taking a look at the notebook that the protagonist wrote hours before Faneca and Valentí gathered, she discovers Marés was the homeless man screaming obscenities to her. Faneca books a room in a lodge in his childhood neighborhood so he can provide a phone number to Valentí. Once he enters the room, he writes a letter to Marés describing how he took the notebook to Valentí and, at the same time, indicating that his psyche is totally separated from his previous identity. Afterward, Faneca meets again with Valentí; following a little chat about Faneca’s origins and life, he touches her provocatively and Valentí asks him to leave; however, she later announces that she might visit him in his lodge. Later on, Valentí and Faneca reunite in a bar; this time, their conversation finishes at the lodge, where they make love passionately. As they say goodbye, Faneca claims he is content to deeply know the women Marés used to sleep with. Valentí responds in Catalan, stating that she felt like she made love to a dead body. Immediately after she leaves, Faneca sees Marés, who is vomiting and cursing in the street. After calling him a cuckold, Faneca helps Marés climb the escalator to their childhood neighborhood. The film presents differences with the novel; the most notable one is the erotic motif. In El amante bilingüe, as in the majority of his movies, Vicente Aranda uses eroticism greatly; however, this element is not as present in the book. The novel focuses instead on the complex relationship between the two identities that Marés develops. While Aranda creates a clear separation between the two selves after Marés dresses as a charnego, the book engages in

AMANTES      25

the identity interrelation until the very end, deeply exploring the protagonist’s schizophrenic state of mind. The movie's and the novel’s varying emphases lead to different uses of the grotesque. Although the grotesque elements are present in both works, they differ in their context of appearance: the movie features them in sexual situations, whereas the novel brings them out in the bodily reactions of Marés to his identity crisis. These distinctions show discrepancies between the novelist and the film director’s intentions. The criticism of the novel is directed at Catalan centralism, a central element of Marsé’s book. While Aranda discusses this tension too, he emphasizes and develops the novel’s relationships and eroticism. In this way, he produces a film that could potentially reach a greater audience. See also Amantes (Lovers); Vicente Aranda (Appendix A); Si te dicen que caí (If They Tell You I Fell) Bibliography Calmes, Victoria. “Alienación cultural y dislocación de la subjetividad en El amante bilingüe de Juan Marsé.” RILCE. Revista de Filología Hispánica 25, no. 2 (July 2009): 209–19. Connor, Laura F. “Bilingualism, Desdoblamiento, and Dissociative Identity in Juan Marsé’s El amante bilingüe.” Proceedings of the UCLA Department of Spanish and Portuguese Graduate Conference, no. 1 (2012): 3–14. Gómez, Concha. “Aventuras y desventuras de Vicente Aranda con los productores de este país.” In Miradas sobre el cine de Vicente Aranda, edited by Joaquín Cánovas, 49–77. Murcia: Servicio de Publicaciones de la Universidad de Murcia, 2000. Martín, Juan Carlos. “Representations of Humans and Technology: The Construction of Identity in Miguel Bardem, Pedro Almodóvar, and Alejandro Amenábar.” In Science, Literature, and Film in the Hispanic World, edited by J. Hoeg and K. Larsen, 221–44. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2006. Thompson, Currie K. “Review.” Anales de la literatura española contemporánea 16, no. 3 (1991): 399–400.

—Alba Marcé García

AMANTES (LOVERS) (1991) Director: Vicente Aranda Screenplay: Álvaro del Amo, Carlos Pérez Merinero, and Vicente Aranda Specs: 122 minutes; color Amantes is a 1991 film noir directed by Vicente Aranda. It is based on a real historical event, the crime of Tetuán de las Victorias, which the film transposes from the 1940s to the 1950s. It was made at a time when mainstream Spanish cinema was gaining a reputation for its overtly sexual and erotic content. The plot of Amantes revolves around a love triangle involving “Paco” (Jorge Sanz) and “Trini” (Maribel Verdú), and an older woman and the film’s femme fatale, “Luisa” (Victoria Abril), who seduces Paco in her apartment where he has taken up lodgings. Except for two brief moments, the two women are never present together in the same scene. Instead, the film follows Paco as he moves

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Victoria Abril. Aries Films / Photofest © Aries Films

between Trini’s and Luisa’s respective spaces and, equally, between their conflicting attitudes toward love and life. Each of the women is, in her own way, extremely determined, whereas Paco, discernibly passive, tends to submit to their will. The film, set for the most part in Madrid, opens in the traditional setting of a cathedral mass where Trini and Paco, who is still in uniform, exchange furtive glances. Now that his military service has come to an end, Paco must find work. After a brief and unsuccessful stint in a brick factory, he is soon distracted from his job hunting by Luisa, who exerts influence over him, first in the bedroom and then in his life choices. Trini, in stark contrast to Luisa, rejects Paco’s sexual advances, much to his frustration. Trini represents the traditional view that frowns on sexual relations out of wedlock. Her personal circumstances are also quite different from Luisa’s. She is a live-in maid in the home of Paco’s former military commander (Enrique Cerro) and his wife (Mabel Escaño), while Luisa makes money from her involvement in property fraud. For a time, Paco keeps his affair secret, but it becomes increasingly difficult for him to manage his double life. Not only is Luisa jealous of Paco’s attachment to the younger woman—a feeling she reveals to him when he chooses to spend Christmas Eve with Trini rather than with her—but Paco also finds it more difficult to control his desire for his landlady. What is more, Trini’s suspicions are raised when Paco finally introduces Luisa to her during a chance encounter in an alleyway during the Christmas festivities. Determined not to lose her man,

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Trini, on the advice of the commander’s wife, goes to Luisa’s apartment and offers herself to Paco when his landlady is out. Uncharacteristically made up and relatively unconvincing in her role as seductress, Trini succumbs to the act behind closed doors, unlike the erotic encounters between Luisa and Paco, which take place in full view of the spectator. The two women meet briefly for the second and last time on the stairwell outside the apartment, Trini now quite defiant after having just slept with Paco. Luisa is furious, but her mood has also been worsened by the fact that her fellow fraudsters have told her she owes them money. Paco leaves Madrid with Trini for a few days to visit her mother (Alicia Agut). On his return, Luisa reveals her predicament to Paco, who is still besotted with her. Together they hatch a plan to swindle Trini out of her savings so that Luisa can settle her debts. Paco is to propose to Trini and take her to the town of Aranda del Duero, where they will supposedly purchase a bar and set up home above. Trini falls for these lies and leaves with Paco to visit their new home, taking her savings with her. On the train journey there, Paco discovers that Luisa has followed them, no doubt to ensure that he sees the plan through. Once in Aranda del Duero, Paco leaves the hotel room and reflects on what he needs to do as he sits on a bench facing the town’s cathedral. It is snowing. Paco returns to the hotel and removes the money from Trini’s bag as she lies sleeping. Back at the cathedral, he is joined by Luisa, to whom he hands over the money. Luisa wants him to kill Trini, but he confesses to her that he feels unable to abandon his fiancée. Luisa, in anger, throws the money on the snow-covered ground and walks off. Paco returns to the hotel and confesses all to Trini, including his continuing obsession with Luisa. Trini, heartbroken, shuts herself in the bathroom with thoughts of suicide. Paco forces the door and prevents her from taking a razor blade to her wrists. Once more at the cathedral, Paco and Trini sit together on the bench, which has now become a constant point of reference. They cover their heads with his coat in order to shelter from the rain. Trini feels she has no reason to live. She takes out the razor blade from her coat and places it in Paco’s hand, guiding him toward her. In a close-up of the space beneath the bench, we see Trini remove her shoes, touch the ground with her feet, and blood fall on the snow between them as her legs go limp. Luisa’s will has been done, although not in the way either she or Paco might have imagined. Paco now rushes to the station and presses his bloodied hands on the window of Luisa’s carriage. Enraptured, she reciprocates and then alights as the train begins to pull away. The final freeze frame captures the lovers embracing passionately on the platform, as a caption appears to remind us that this is a real story and that Paco and Luisa were arrested three days later in Valladolid. We are not allowed to get too caught up in the lovers’ mutual passion, which has been presented throughout the film in terms that are intensely more ardent than the conventional circumstances of Paco and Trini’s relationship. Amantes is a film in which close-ups and medium close-ups combine to create an often oppressive atmosphere for each of its protagonists. The tendency for the camera to linger on Paco’s body during sex scenes also serves to interrogate the processes of objectification in cinema along with traditional gender stereotyping. The film has been understood as an Oedipal drama in which Trini

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substitutes for the father. It is thus a tale about rebellion and transgression in which the depiction of a crime of passion acquires a degree of moral ambivalence, despite the admonishment implicit in the final caption. See also Victoria Abril (Appendix A); El amante bilingüe (The Bilingual Lover); Vicente Aranda (Appendix A); Jorge Sanz (Appendix A) Bibliography Freixas, Ramón, and Joan Bassa. “Entrevista con Vicente Aranda.” Dirigido por Revista de cine 189 (March 1991): 64–68. Heredero, Carlos F. “Amantes: crimen y sexo en la España negra.” Dirigido por Revista de cine 188 (February 1991): 30–33. Kinder, Marsha. Blood Cinema: The Reconstruction of National Identity in Spain. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1993.

—Federico Bonaddio

LOS AMANTES DEL CÍRCULO POLAR (THE LOVERS OF THE ARCTIC CIRCLE) (1998) Director: Julio Medem Screenplay: Julio Medem Specs: 105 minutes; color Julio Medem’s fourth film, Los amantes del círculo polar, earned him international acclaim. The film tells a moving story about love and fate, showcased through a series of historical repetitions. Los amantes del círculo polar was nominated for four Goya Awards and won for Best Editing and Best Original Score. Additionally, the movie also had a wider distribution than his previous “cult” movies. The complex plot of Los amantes del círculo polar tells the story of “Ana” (Najwa Nimri) and “Otto” (Fele Martínez), whose names are palindromes and whose lives seemed governed by circular patterns. These two children meet by chance, and from that point on the two become soul mates through countless coincidences. In their adolescence, coincidentally becoming step-siblings, they express their undying love for each other. However, their relationship is tested when Otto’s mother dies and the two are separated. Otto becomes a pilot, flying between Spain and the Arctic Circle. Ana moves to the same area to leave her past behind and attempts to contact Otto again. The movie ends on an ambiguous note, featuring two possible endings: in one version, Ana and Otto are reunited, while in the other Ana dies in a car accident. It is unclear which of the endings is real, which suits very well to Medem’s poetics of ambiguity. Los amantes del círculo polar adopts the structure of parallel subjective narratives from the perspective of the two main characters. The same events are told by both Ana and Otto, but the memories, dreams, and desires of each one mix with historical reality. Medem rejects any objective approach, which grants him many creative licenses and helps convey the story with a very “Medem-like” oneiric atmosphere. As his other films, this is a visual atmospheric feast ruled by affects and emotions rather than by a realistic lineal plot.

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Fele Martínez and Najwa Nimri. Fine Line / Photofest © Fine Line

The director’s peculiar use of subjective shots, in particular, becomes a technical choice that can be tied to thematic concerns. Medem’s films prioritize this gaze to guarantee access to the multiple layers of reality the filmmaker is interested in capturing. By shifting the point of view from characters in films to animate and inanimate objects, he radically reorganizes the visual regime of “looking.” By the end of the movie, the captions that precede each episode and inform the audience whose point of view they are going to share go from stating simply the name of the main characters to indicating ‘‘Ana’s eyes’’ and ‘‘Otto in Ana’s eyes.’’ In those final sequences, the two main characters and the spectator are, more clearly than ever, occupying—even struggling to occupy—the same viewing space, the same vantage point of looking and of being on the screen. Medem’s reoccurring themes (fate, chance, family sagas) reappear in Los amantes. A former documentarian and film critic with a psychoanalytic background, Medem resorts to a circular structure divided into chapters, as if playing an endless and uninterrupted game to describe the whole arc of life. This circle— one could call it fate—stages the main characters’ encounters and dis-encounters, whether as friends or clandestine lovers, propitiated by magic and chance. The voice-overs of Ana and Otto describe the facts from their own perspectives. However, their diverse views complement each other: while Otto’s are closer to the real, Ana’s tend to subscribe to the realms of fantasy and imagination. Ana sees Otto as her father’s spirit reborn; Otto sees Ana as his own soul’s completion.

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Gonzalo Berridi’s splendid photography underscores Otto and Ana’s angst and melancholic love by creating mysterious atmospheres in cold bluish tones that coalesce in a flux of lyrical and startling images. The film’s sensitive and moody soundtrack also excites the senses. In this sentimental landscape the visualization of emotions is carried out by the couple’s looks, gestures, and thoughts. Nature acquires a special relevance in conveying those emotions: night gardens or the midnight sun define the almost inscrutable intimacy of a unique and eternal passion. See also La ardilla roja (The Red Squirrel); Habitación en Roma (Room in Rome); Lucía y el sexo (Sex and Lucia) Bibliography Egea, Juan F. “Poetry and Film: El sol del membrillo and Los amantes del círculo polar.” Hispanic Review 75, no. 2 (2007): 159–80. Smith, Paul Julian. The Moderns: Time, Space, and Subjectivity in Contemporary Spanish Culture. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000. Stone, Rob. Julio Medem. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2012.

—Santiago Juan-Navarro

LOS AMANTES PASAJEROS (I’M SO EXCITED!) (2013) Director: Pedro Almodóvar Screenplay: Pedro Almodóvar Specs: 90 minutes; color Los amantes pasajeros is a 2013 comedy written and directed by Pedro Almodóvar. The film tells the story of the passengers and crew stuck on an international flight to Mexico City because of stuck landing gear. It was nominated for a Goya Award for Best Costume Design in 2014 but did not win. The film is often described as a throwback to Almodóvar’s original 1980s aesthetics, with its bright colors, witty and playful dialogue, popular musical score, and fashionable design. In addition, it continues Almodóvar’s auteurist tradition through collaborations with José Luis Alcaine (cinematography), Alberto Iglesias (soundtrack), and Antxon Gómez (set design), even as Almodóvar continues to rely on his cache of actors from prior films (Cecilia Roth, Javier Cámara, Antonio Banderas, and Penélope Cruz) to form the core cast of Los amantes pasajeros. Finally, self-citations in the dialogue, the motif of the telephone, the airport, and the Viaduct in Madrid firmly place Los amantes pasajeros within Almodóvar’s oeuvre by referencing his early works. In spite of all of these throwbacks, however, the film remains a product of, and a metaphor for, the economic and political crisis that struck Spain in 2007 and continues to the present day. The plot revolves around a transatlantic flight from Madrid to Mexico City with the airline company “Península” (a thinly veiled reference to the Spanish national airline, Iberia). While the flight attendants drug the passengers in coach with muscle relaxants and sleeping pills, those in first class become aware of a problem with the landing gear and the pilot’s decision to

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Carlos Areces, Raúl Arévalo, and Javier Cámara. Sony Pictures Classics / Photofest © Sony Pictures Classics

circle the skies of La Mancha rather than attempt an ocean-crossing and crashland in Mexico. Additionally, three first-class flight attendants (played by Raúl Arévalo, Javier Cámara, and Carlos Areces) attempt to distract their passengers with alcohol, drugs, and a lip-synced performance of the Pointer Sisters’ “I’m So Excited!” (the song that the film’s English title derives from). Their efforts are futile, however, as rumor spreads of the plane’s mechanical malfunction, and as passengers and pilot reminisce about their lives and call their loved ones to say good-bye. The film ends with a successful crash-landing at an unused municipal airport outside of Ciudad Real, a transparent reference to the construction crisis and corruption that continues to plague Spain. Criticism of the film has tended to be markedly different depending on whether it was written for an English- or Spanish-speaking audience. Englishlanguage reviews tended to celebrate Almodóvar’s return to form, while Spanish reviews tended to be more negative in delivery, perhaps because the film’s retro Almodóvar aesthetics give the appearance of a lack of artistic progression on the part of the auteur. See also Pedro Almodóvar (Appendix A); La mala educación (Bad Education); Matador (Matador); Tacones lejanos (High Heels) Bibliography D’Lugo, Marvin. “Los amantes pasajeros: An Update on Almodóvar’s Trans-Border Cinema.” Miríada hispánica, no. 8 (2014): 53–67.

32     LOS AÑOS BÁRBAROS Goss, Brian Michael. “Almodóvar Studies: Embracing Brokenness in Los abrazos rotos (2009), La piel que habito (2011) and Los amantes pasajeros (2013).” Miríada Hispánica, no. 8 (2014): 69–85. Marí, Jorge. “Los amantes pasajeros, Dir. by Pedro Almodóvar (Review).” Hispania 98, no. 3 (2015): 627–29. Smith, Paul Julian. “Pedro Almodóvar’s Los amantes pasajeros (I’m So Excited).” Film Quarterly 66, no. 3 (2013): 49–52.

—Diana Norton

LOS AÑOS BÁRBAROS (THE STOLEN YEARS) (1998) Director: Fernando Colomo Screenplay: Carlos López, José Ángel Esteban, Fernando Colomo, and Nicolás Sánchez Albornoz Specs: 120 minutes; color Los años bárbaros is a romantic drama directed by Fernando Colomo in 1998. The film is based on a true story that happened to Manuel Lamana and Nicolás Sánchez Albornoz during the dictatorship of Franco. Ernesto Alterio won the Best New Actor award during the 13th Premios Goya (Goya Awards) in 1999. “Tomás” (Jordi Mollá) and “Jaime” (Ernesto Alterio), two students of the Federación Universitaria Escolar (FUE), are arrested for painting subversive graffiti on the university walls in 1948. They are both condemned to serve eight years in prison and are sent to the Valley of the Fallen labor camp. “Velasco” (Pepón Nieto), another friend who participated in the protests but was not arrested, travels to Paris to recruit “Michel” (Samuel Le Bihan) to help Tomás and Jaime escape during a visitation day. Velasco and Michel are joined by “Kathy” (Hedy Burress), an American, and “Susan” (Allison Smith), a Canadian. During the scheduled day for the breakout, several dignitaries unexpectedly inspect the progression of the prison’s construction, which complicates the plans. In addition, “Víctor Marquina” (Juan Echanove), who lobbied for a hard sentence for the two incarcerated, mocks them and sends them to work—compromising the plans to have them meet during visiting hours. In spite of the setbacks, they manage to escape, starting their trip toward the French border with Kathy and Susan. After more than a year of eating prison food, Tomás and Jaime convince Kathy and Susan to stop at a national inn, Albergue de Medinaceli, to enjoy a feast. They meet “Roa” (Josep Maria Pou), a journalist who is traveling to Barcelona to attend a movie premiere of Jorge Negrete. Susan forgets the camera at the restaurant. Coincidentally, Víctor and “Máximo” (Álex Angulo) are on their way to Barcelona and stop at the restaurant and take the camera to return it to Susan. A few hours later, when they stop at a small town, Víctor and Máximo pull up next to the two women. After a brief discussion, Kathy and Susan storm out and meet Tomás and Jaime. As they drive away, the transmission of the car breaks, causing an accident. Víctor, once again, catches up with the group. Tomás and Jaime hide next to the road, while Kathy and Susan get a ride with Víctor and Máximo to find a repair shop. Tomás and Jaime walk along the road and stop a car, which happens to be

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driven by Roa. As they drive, they see Kathy and Susan’s car in a repair shop and get out of the car. The car repaired, Kathy, Susan, Tomás, and Jaime drive the whole night and part of the following day, before arriving in Barcelona, where they meet with Michel. The trip to Barcelona was longer than expected, so the letters of safe passage have expired. Michel explains that they need to wait a week until they can get new documents, a proposal that Tomás and Jaime reject. Michel has a contact who, incidentally, works at Negrete’s movie premiere. Before the premiere, Roa recognizes Tomás and Jaime. He sneaks them into the theater to see the movie, in which Víctor is also in attendance. As the protagonists try to escape, Víctor recognizes them and chases them. Michel pushes Víctor, and when he runs away he is shot and killed. Jaime and Tomás decide to attempt to cross the border on foot. As they walk in the dark, Tomás injures his ankle. Kathy and Susan are kept at the border due to some irregularities on their documents. Víctor, who is looking for Tomás and Jaime, intercedes and they are released. Shortly afterward, Víctor learns that the women were helping Tomás and Jaime, and he organizes a search party. When Víctor locates them, he attempts to kill them, but they manage to escape after a struggle. Once in France, they reunite with Kathy and Susan. See also Ópera prima (Opera Prima) Bibliography Holland, Jonathan. “The Stolen Years.” Variety. 1998. http://variety.com/1998/film/ reviews/the-stolen-years-1200456103/ (October 12, 2015).

—Enrique Téllez-Espiga

LA ARDILLA ROJA (THE RED SQUIRREL) (1993) Director: Julio Medem Screenplay: Julio Medem Specs: 114 minutes; color La ardilla roja is Julio Medem’s second feature film. Medem had written his first draft of the film while awaiting callbacks from producers for the script of Vacas (1992). The film tells a story of machismo and identity in the style of a magic comedy mixed with a love story that starts with a lie and grows into mystery. La ardilla roja was nominated for three Goya Awards, winning one for Best Score. It also won the Award of the Youth at the 1993 Cannes Film Festival. The film is shaped by a hyperfocus on memory that forms its plot. It begins at night on the seafront of San Sebastián. An ex-rocker, “Jota” (Nancho Novo), is trying to get the courage to kill himself by jumping off a bridge when a young woman, “Sofía” (Emma Suárez), riding a motorcycle crashes onto the sand below. As a result of the accident, Sofía suffers from total amnesia, not even able to remember her own name. Taking advantage of Sofía’s situation, Jota convinces her that her name is actually “Lisa” and that she has been his girlfriend for four years. After she is released from the hospital, the couple go on vacation to a

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Emma Suárez and María Barranco. © Photofest

campground named La Ardilla Roja, where they carry on—though threatened by the presence of a mysterious driver of a red car. The plot reveals itself as a kind of jigsaw puzzle, piecing together a woman’s identity and ultimately building into a picture of female independence. Some critics have gone as far as to read the plot in allegorical terms and have interpreted this cultivation of self as a veiled reference to the process of constructing a national identity in the Basque Country. Nonetheless, those familiar with Julio Medem’s work would immediately question such simple metaphorical interpretations. Indeed, adding to the complexity, one of the keys to fully understanding the narrative’s development without getting trapped by the implausibility of its proposal stems from its intense ambiguity. The film is Medem’s best exploration so far of the motifs of deceit and falsehood. The situations the spectator faces are always colored with a strict sense of ambivalence about the truth. However, it happens at times that the facts of various situations are false from the beginning, which adds a new playful quality to Medem’s world. Sofía’s amnesia, for example, is a perfect excuse for underscoring the fragile border between sincerity and deceitfulness, and even Jota himself is overwhelmed by the fragile house of cards he has created around her. Medem skillfully intercuts intriguing and sometimes menacing squirrelrelated shots with symbolic overtones throughout the film. The first major squirrel diversion comes via a televised squirrel documentary, where audiences learn that red squirrels are stronger than their peers. Indeed, there are even some interesting subjective shots from the point of view of squirrels themselves. The Basque filmmaker sees in movie’s oneiric world, and, by extension, in fantasy, a cinematographic technique more powerful than anything he might find represented in reality. It is for that reason that Lisa’s existence (Jota’s created

ARREBATO      35

double) is substantial, yet as soon as her true self (Sofía) is revealed, the artifice ceases to exist. Throughout the film, Medem’s characters assert identities that are not their own. Jota and Lisa seek to find their inner selves by using each other through an endless production of artifice, perhaps because their previous existences were so miserable. In the former case, Jota aims at redeeming his failed relationship with a woman named “Elisa” by inventing Lisa, and the latter wants to set aside her stormy marriage with “Félix” by fleeing on her motor bike, ultimately toward oblivion and transformation. Thus, in La ardilla roja doubles have a clear redeeming function. Characters seek in their alterity a form of escape, even though they are aware—to some extent—that that otherness is unreal. In La ardilla roja Medem presents a clever and insightful film on the nature of love and illusion. In his later production of Lucía y el sexo (2001), Medem explores an even more complex intermingling between the real and the fantastic. See also Los amantes del círculo polar (The Lovers of the Arctic Circle); Habitación en Roma (Room in Rome); Lucía y el sexo (Sex and Lucia); Tierra (Earth) Bibliography Smith, Paul Julian. Vision Machines: Cinema, Literature and Sexuality in Spain and Cuba, 1983–1993. London: Verso, 1996. Stone, Rob. Julio Medem. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2012.

—Santiago Juan-Navarro

ARREBATO (RAPTURE) (1979) Director: Iván Zulueta Screenplay: Iván Zulueta Specs: 105 minutes; color Arrebato, directed by the filmmaker and art designer Iván Zulueta, is one of the most fascinating cult movies of Spanish cinema—largely due to the circumstances under which it was filmed, its underground style, the mesmerizing plot, and its hallucinatory soundtrack. In addition to the film itself, the cult following is perhaps associated with the personal isolation of Zulueta and his public drug addition, all of which contributed to the mysterious legends surrounding the movie. Additionally, Arrebato could be considered a bizarre horror movie that reflects the darkest side of the countercultural movement known as “La Movida Madrileña”—a Madrid-centered movement characterized by the pushback against the legacy of Francisco Franco’s dictatorship. The plot revolves around “José Sirgado” (Eusebio Poncela), a horror movie director who, after shooting his second film, has to face his real life, marked by a tortuous sentimental relationship as well as his haunting addiction to heroin. Blurring the line between his art and his life, José has a love-hate relationship with cinema; as he says to his editor (Antonio Gasset), he does not like cinema, but cinema likes him. When José arrives home, the building’s doorkeeper delivers a package to him and informs him that “Ana” (Cecilia Roth), his former fiancée, is waiting

36     ARREBATO

Cecilia Roth. Globe Films S.A. / Photofest © Globe Films S.A.

upstairs. Indeed, José finds Ana soundly asleep under the influence of drugs. Annoyance and frustration setting in, José tries but can’t even accomplish simple things, like preparing a bath or flushing the toilet—everything goes wrong. Curiosity piqued, José opens the package, which contains a recording and a Super 8 home movie. José puts the recording in the radio cassette and turns on the device, from which he starts to hear the voice of “Pedro” (Will More), a strange and unique man he had met some time earlier. Despite his initial reluctance, the director eventually injects some heroin while he listens to Pedro explain the reasons why the package has been sent to him. In a trancelike state, José begins to reminisce, the film then featuring a flashback that shows how José and Pedro had met. At that time, while looking for a setting to shoot his first film, The Curse of Werewolf, the filmmaker visited the house where Pedro used to live with his eccentric mother, “Carmen” (Carmen Giralt), in the province of Segovia. Thanks to his friend “Marta” (Marta Fernández Muro), Pedro’s cousin, José learned some strange things about this young man: although he was 27 years old, he claimed that he was only 12 and lived among toys; he hardly ate or drank, and did little else but spend time making movies about the house and the field that surrounds it. Moreover, Pedro had a child’s voice that became deeper after taking drugs, and he cries watching his own creations. José discovered by himself not only what a unique creature of sorts Pedro actually was but also the almost supernatural things that he was able

ARREBATO      37

to accomplish. Particularly, Pedro induces José to experience a hypnotic trance or rapture (arrebato) through a color print of King Solomon's Mines, José’s favorite album during his childhood. This rapture suspends consciousness, even halting time. Despite the fact that Carmen’s house wasn’t chosen as a location for the movie, this visit became crucial to Pedro, since the mere presence of José encouraged him to buy a Super 8 film camera and to start shooting films beyond his family circle. In fact, later on Pedro asks José to pay him another visit with the excuse of sharing his progress. This time Ana, the main actress of The Curse of Werewolf, accompanied José. In spite of Pedro’s disappointment, who wanted to be alone with the filmmaker, all three eventually embarked on an outlandish time taking drugs and watching Pedro’s surrealistic movies—films consisting of pictures from all over the world. The flashback comes to an end when Ana awakes. At this moment, she tries to be kind, asking José for his second film, but he beats her, jealous because she had left him a month earlier to make a movie with another filmmaker. However, they eventually make peace, snorting heroin on the carpet with laughter. Drugged, José suggests to Ana that they watch the Super 8 movie made by Pedro, to which she agrees. Pedro’s film begins with his journey on the train from Segovia to Madrid. Upon his arrival at the capital of Spain, Pedro tries to capture reality only through his camera, although very soon he feels the need to find new friends and to enjoy sex and drugs. However, at the same time that Pedro leaves his childish world, he cannot grasp any longer this gift that provides him with the experience of rapture. At this point Pedro becomes desperate, realizing that the camera has been filming him in his sleep. Indeed, he finds out something amazing in the last film roll: one of the still images is completely red, as if—audiences are led to believe—the camera had stolen a little part of Pedro’s life. Certain that this red frame depicts a moment of rapture, Pedro is frightened of the unsuspected power of the camera. From this moment on, Arrebato stops showing the film made by Pedro to show his experiences directly. He is now obsessed with the origin and meaning of the red stain, so he asks his friend “Gloria” (Helena Fernán-Gómez, whose voice was dubbed over by Pedro Almodóvar) if she would watch him sleeping. Nevertheless, Pedro awakes due to his heroin withdrawal, only to see that Gloria has moved the camera. Furious and frustrated, he comes back to have sex and drugs for several days until he discovers that the camera has been recording his sleep again. This time the film roll has several red frames, which leads him believe he’s going to die. Pedro then calls his cousin Marta and tells her all about his fears. Marta is skeptical, but she agrees to watch Pedro. While he is asleep, the camera turns to Marta and makes her disappear. After losing his cousin and seeing this on the film, Pedro gives José some instructions: the filmmaker has to go to his apartment and watch what happens in the last roll, the same one that the camera is shooting now. Puzzled, José leaves Ana to follow the guidelines given by his friend. Pedro’s apartment is empty, so he extracts the roll from the camera and takes it to a

38     ASÍ EN EL CIELO COMO EN LA TIERRA

video-camera service for developing. When José sees the film, he cannot believe his eyes: the projector shows Pedro’s face making gestures to him, but suddenly the face changes into his own face, smiling enigmatically. José sees how the camera is turning to him, and he goes to bed covering his eyes with the sheets, thoroughly frightened. Audiences hear the noise of a machine gun and watch José being swallowed by the camera. Bibliography Cueto, Roberto, ed. Arrebato, 25 años después. Valencia: Ediciones de la Filmoteca, 2006.

—Rebeca Martín

ASÍ EN EL CIELO COMO EN LA TIERRA (ON EARTH AS IT IS IN HEAVEN) (1995) Director: José Luis Cuerda Screenplay: José Luis Cuerda Specs: 95 minutes; color Así en el cielo como en la tierra, José Luis Cuerda’s 10th film, is the last of the trilogy that includes Total (1983) and Amanece que no es poco (1988). The film revolves around the topics of the end of the world, religion, and the relation between reality and fiction. It is particularly interesting because it presents heaven as a copy of Earth, rather than following the predominately Catholic notion that Earth is an image of heaven. Critics have also noted another point of interest in that many of the actors starring in this film span over three generations—of which the cast includes Francisco Rabal, Alicia Sánchez, and Gabino Diego. The film starts with the arrival of “Luis Matacanes” (Luis Ciges) to what appears to be the outskirts of a typical Castilian village. Instead, a sign confirms that it is heaven, and Matacanes believes he is there because he is one of the first victims of the apocalypse that is taking place on Earth. The entry point is guarded by a rural guardia civil (police officer), “St. Peter” (Francisco Rabal), who explains to Matacanes that heaven is different for each country. Meanwhile, “God” (Fernando Fernán-Gómez) is preparing to send a second son to see if he can reverse the state of affairs on Earth before actually starting the apocalypse. “Jesus” (Jesús Bonilla) is not happy about the idea of having a brother and prefers the apocalypse as a solution. Before sending another son, God needs to find a suitable mother for him among those women in heaven, but things begin to get complicated when God cannot find any woman to volunteer to be the second Mary. As a result, he decides that the apocalypse is the best solution. While everyone in town starts getting ready for the apocalypse, they see some new people arriving in the village, who, instead of being apocalypse victims, are souls sent from purgatory to heaven. God finally sends his forces down to Earth to start the apocalypse, but the next day his assistants return with very few new souls because they were not as strong as the people on Earth. In the village square, the few captured and taken in complain to God about his reasons to pick them instead of others. God ends up sending them back to Earth, and after talking to

ASIGNATURA PENDIENTE      39

Jesus, he reverts back to his original plan of having a second son. “Lola” (Mónica Molina) speaks to God and agrees to be the new Mary as long as she can pick who will play Joseph. See also El bosque animado (The Enchanted Forest); José Luis Cuerda (Appendix A); Las educación de la hadas (The Education of Fairies); Los girasoles ciegos (The Blind Sunflowers); La lengua de las mariposas (Butterfly’s Tongue); La marrana (The Sow) —Luis Guadaño

ASIGNATURA PENDIENTE (UNFINISHED BUSINESS) (1977) Director: José Luis Garci Screenplay: José Luis Garci and José María González Sinde Specs: 109 minutes; color Asignatura pendiente is a 1977 film directed by José Luis Garci. The film tells the story of an extramarital relationship during the latest period of Franco’s dictatorship, also known as Apertura. It was a box-office success at the time. The plot of the film revolves around “José” (José Sacristán), a young, married Spanish left-wing lawyer who one day accidentally meets the girlfriend of his youth, “Elena” (Fiorella Faltoyano). Elena is now married to an economist, with whom she has two daughters. José asks Elena to take a day trip with him to the village they used to go to on holidays when they were younger. After some hesitation because of her family commitments, she finally agrees. During their day trip they remember the nice moments they used to spend together. Yet, before their day comes to an end, José points out they still have some unfinished business, as they never consummated their love affair by having had sex. Accordingly, he asks Elena to meet up again soon and she agrees. After having sex, they continue with their clandestine love relationship. They spend whole weekends together, and they decide to rent an apartment where they can meet in a more comfortable way. Despite their twofold identity, José and Elena are happy together and they do not mind cheating on their respective partners. Franco’s death seems to become the trigger for innumerable changes in Spanish society and also in their extramarital relationship. José observes how his colleague and old friend “Trotsky” (Antonio Gamero) decides to set aside his left-wing principles and get married. The same occurs to one of his clients, the syndicalist “Meana” (Héctor Alterio), who regrets the time he spent in prison for reacting against the Franco regime. He realizes he has missed a whole lifetime he could have spent with his family. The final scene shows how José and Elena break off their relationship. José comes to dislike the clandestine nature of their relationship, and he does not intend to leave his family for Elena because he is, in actuality, not in love with her. Elena understands that they started their affair because of very specific circumstances, but after a while the excitement vanished and boredom set in. The film reveals a veiled criticism toward left-wing citizens, who are depicted as hypocrites. Despite his ideology and meager resources, José behaves

40     ¡ÁTAME!

as a capitalist and manages to afford the rent of an apartment for his lover and buy her expensive presents. Also, after Franco’s death, all reasons for dissenting have suddenly vanished. As a result, José undergoes an identity crisis in which he questions his extramarital affair. The film shows a series of overtones of Garci’s films. The structure, the topic, and the importance of some other features—such as music and cigarettes—are similar to his subsequent release, Volver a empezar (1981). The stories in both films deal with interrupted youthful relationships, and the protagonists intend to make up for lost time. An additional essential element is music, and in both stories a specific song is related to the main love affair. In fact, the couple’s love song is a recurrent leitmotif throughout the film, and in both cases the record with the song is given as a love present. Also, Garci’s main characters are smokers, and cigarettes are always present in earnest conversations. The time of release, a year and a half after Franco’s death, was also an important aspect for the success of the film, because censorship ceased to be in force. This period, the Transición (the Transition), was used by many filmmakers, writers, and songwriters to break down barriers and taboos. A film about an extramarital relationship would have been banned during the Franco regime. In the same vein, it would have been impossible to release a film with bed scenes, nudity, a couple taking a shower together, and long conversations related to sex and extramarital affairs. Yet such a film was possible after Franco’s death, and the reception of the film among the Spanish society at the time was extremely successful. See also Canción de cuna (Cradle Song); José Luis Garci (Appendix A); Tiovivo c.1950 (Tiovivo c.1950); Volver a empezar (Begin the Beguine) —Guillermo Sanz Gallego

¡ÁTAME! (TIE ME UP! TIE ME DOWN!) (1990) Director: Pedro Almodóvar Screenplay: Pedro Almodóvar and Yuyi Beringola Specs: 101 minutes; color ¡Átame! (Tie Me Up! Tie Me Down) is the eighth film by Pedro Almodóvar, Spain’s most popular and commercially successful screenwriter and director. Almodóvar is typically renowned for the visual and thematic excess found in his scripts, the narratives filled with ironic scenes, hilariously surreal gags, and for his use of the postmodern technique of pastiche—which is exemplified by the many explicit or indirect references to Hollywood films. ¡Átame! was a success and confirmed the director’s international reputation gained with his previous film Mujeres al borde de un ataque de nervios (Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown, 1988), although it received many negative reviews by American feminist critics, who accused it of legitimating violence against women. Furthermore, the film received an X rating by the Motion Picture Association of America because of the erotic contents of some of its scenes—such as the sequence portraying Victoria Abril while taking a bath and practicing autoero-

Antonio Banderas and Victoria Abril. Miramax Films / Photofest © Miramax Films

42     ¡ÁTAME!

tism. Nevertheless, ¡Átame! was released by the American distributor Miramax without classification. It premiered at the Berlin Film Festival, earning some $4 million at the box office. Contrary to many other productions by Almodóvar that use complex scripts, the plot of ¡Átame! is very simple and linear. The film tells the story of the orphaned “Ricky” (Antonio Banderas), who is obsessed with porn actress “Marina Ozores” (Victoria Abril). As soon as he is released from a psychiatric hospital at the beginning of the film, he follows her everywhere, steals from her dressing room, appears on the set of her new film, and finally kidnaps her in her own apartment, where he admits having encountered her during one of his previous escapes from the asylum. Marina’s attempts to ask for help are encountered with much violence by Ricky, who punches and repeatedly ties her to the bed. These violent actions are nevertheless alternated with sweet declarations of love and a protective care of her (he even buys drugs for her on the black market). The action thus alternates between Marina’s apartment and the set of her last film, where the half-paralyzed director “Máximo Espejo” (Francisco Rabal) is attempting to finish what he knows will be his last production. After some resistance, Marina surrenders to Ricky’s offers and even asks him to be tied up while he leaves her alone. However, she later takes advantage of the providential visit of her overprotective sister “Lola” (Loles León) during Ricky’s absence to escape, although she confesses to being in love with her kidnapper. In a melancholy scene near the end of the narrative, Ricky visits his home village, now in ruins, in the only scene of the film that portrays a sunny and bright environment (which is set against the nocturnal and decadent Madrid, in which the streets are depicted mainly as the abode of drug dealers and prostitutes). Marina reaches Ricky’s natal village with her sister, declares her love for him, and the three of them drive away as a newly formed happy family. Such a happy ending could appear quite implausible to many viewers, especially after the depiction of the abuse Marina has suffered and her characterization as a sexual object. The film combines elements of the romantic comedy with the horror genre. This is epitomized by the juxtaposition of the sequences of Marina’s victimization and bonding with the plot of her latest film, El fantasma de medianoche (Midnight Phantom), a grade-B horror film. The motif of the stalker also links this production with horror films, but particularly interesting is the metacinematic quality of this production, which shows viewers what is behind the cameras and behind the intentions of a director. As is the case with many films by Almodóvar, the colors of the décor and costumes are bright and vivid, and the actors’ performances are very emotional and melodramatic. Victoria Abril is particularly convincing in her role, even in those sequences that focus on her acceptance of Ricky’s love. Also noteworthy are the many references to Christian iconography and the juxtaposition of the saints’ effigies with the films’ characters. See also Los abrazos rotos (Broken Embraces); Victoria Abril (Appendix A); Pedro Almodóvar (Appendix A); Carne trémula (Live Flesh); Kika (Kika); La ley del deseo (Law of Desire); La piel que habito (The Skin I Live In)

ATLAS DE GEOGRAFÍA HUMANA      43

Bibliography D’Lugo, Marvin. Pedro Almodóvar. Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 2006. Sotinel, Thomas. Masters of Cinema: Pedro Almodóvar. Paris: Cahiers du Cinema, 2010.

—Antonio Sanna

ATLAS DE GEOGRAFÍA HUMANA (ATLAS OF HUMAN GEOGRAPHY) (2007) Director: Azucena Rodríguez Screenplay: Azucena Rodríguez and Nicolás Saad, with the collaboration of Almudena Grandes Specs: 105 minutes; color Atlas de geografía humana is a 2007 film written and directed by Azucena Rodríguez in collaboration with scriptwriter Nicólas Saad. The film adapts the eponymous novel of the celebrated author Almudena Grandes, who also collaborated on the script, and focuses on the life of a group of women in their 30s and 40s working together in a publishing company. With a strong female presence in front of and behind the camera (original novel, director, and protagonists, among others), Atlas de geografía humana is a contemporary women’s film exploring the romantic, domestic, and working expectations and changes of four women in present-day society. “Rosa,” “Ana,” “Marisa,” and “Fran” (played respectively by Montse Germán, Cuca Escribano, María Bouzas, and Rosa Vila) work hard preparing the publication of an atlas book. As working women, they combine their jobs with their private and family lives at home, dealing with the everyday difficulties and joys of their roles as wives, mothers, and/or lovers. Beyond their professional relationship, the four women are also good friends; inside and outside the office, they support one another and share their problems, doubts, and happiness. Rosa is a married woman, mother of two children, who after many years of marriage realizes she is not happy with her marriage and living situation. A brief affair with a married photographer, the good-looking and womanizing “Nacho” (Nacho Fresneda), makes Rosa feel alive again, but their relationship does not become the romantic love story that she desperately seeks to change her life. In the end, despite her obsession with Nacho and the failure of their relationship, Rosa faces her husband and decides to divorce him. In the case of Ana, she is a young divorcée with a teenage daughter, temporarily living with her father. After a disastrous marriage with her high school art teacher, Ana has been dedicated to raising her daughter and to her work without much time and interest to engage in new relationships. However, an unexpected romantic and sexual encounter with the author of the atlas results in a mutual infatuation and Ana begins to believe in love again. Although Ana’s lover is a married man, he finally leaves his wife and goes to live with Ana. Marisa is a shy and insecure spinster who lives alone in the family home and dreams about finding her Prince Charming. To escape the boredom and solitude of her life outside the office, from time to time she dresses elegantly and passes

44     ¡AY, CARMELA!

the time alone in the bar of a luxury hotel observing the people and playing the role of the self-confident woman she would like to be. By chance, in one of her nighttime outings, Marisa runs into “Forito” (Boris Ruiz), an alcoholic photographer working at the company who has an old-fashioned style and a tragic past. They become lovers, and Forito falls in love and stops drinking, but Marisa is too embarrassed and uncertain to make their relationship public. Finally, at the risk of losing Forito, Marisa realizes she is also in love and finds the courage to announce it to her friends. The fourth protagonist of the film is Fran, an upper-class and sophisticated woman and the boss of the publishing team. Fran is married to “Martín” (Alberto Jiménez), with whom she shares a past of political activism, an open relationship, and a comfortable life without any significant trouble. They do not have children and their lifestyle has not changed too much since they met at the university. Nevertheless, Fran feels anxious, especially in her relationship with Martín, so she secretly undergoes psychoanalytic treatment. The death from cancer of Fran’s best friend, who was very critical of their self-centered way of life, and Fran’s confrontation with Martín about the treatment interrupt the apathy of the couple, who ultimately resolve to move forward and have a baby. Unlike the original novel, which alternates chapters dedicated to each of the four women, Rodríguez’s adaptation creates a collective narrative, mainly set within the temporal frame of the preparation of the atlas, in which the stories of Rosa, Ana, Marisa, and Fran are skillfully intertwined. Conversely, the film faithfully reproduces the most important conversations and events of Grandes’s book, visually constructing them through accurate editing and mise-en-scène that emphasizes the different personalities of the characters and their actual feelings. Using the intimate thoughts of the protagonists as voice-over narration, the film also highlights women’s subjectivity and desires as the central matter of the narrative. Although Atlas de geografía humana excessively concentrates on heterosexual romance and maternity as the main concerns of the contemporary woman, Rodríguez’s film, however, offers an appealing and unusual representation of female characters in terms of their complexity and diversity. Bibliography Grandes, Almudena. Atlas de geografía humana. Barcelona: Tusquets Editores, 1998.

—Alejandra Armendáriz Hernández

¡AY, CARMELA! (AY, CARMELA!) (1990) Director: Carlos Saura Screenplay: Rafael Azcona and Carlos Saura, based on a play by José Sanchis Sinisterra Specs: 102 minutes; color After failing in the box office with El Dorado (1988), Carlos Saura harked back to his bitter childhood memories of the Spanish Civil War in Ay, Carmela!, a film about a couple of comedians who, after being captured by Francoist troops, are forced to participate in a degrading musical show in exchange for their freedom.

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Carmen Maura. IberoAmericana Films / Photofest © IberoAmericana Films

The film was nominated for 15 Goya Awards and received 13, including Best Film and Best Director. The film was selected as the Spanish entry for the Best Foreign Language Film at the 63rd Academy Awards but was not accepted as a nominee. Ay, Carmela! is based on the eponymous play by José Sanchis Sinisterra. The play is set in the town of Belchite, Spain, in the winter of 1938. For Spanish audiences, this time and place are deeply evocative: Belchite, destroyed during the Spanish Civil War, is today a ghost town, a memorial to the conflict between the Spanish Republicans and Franco’s Nationalist forces. Heavily allegorical, the play tells the story of traveling comedians, Carmela and Paulino, who blunder into the wrong place at the wrong time. The play, which takes its name from the popular Spanish Civil War song “Ay Carmela,” contains only two characters and a single setting—the story is told retrospectively.

46     ¡AY, CARMELA!

Saura adapted the play with the help of scriptwriter Rafael Azcona, who had worked with him many times before. Unlike the play, the film version presents the events not through the lens of flashbacks but in a linear manner, adding new characters and situations. “Carmela” (Carmen Maura), “Paulino” (Andrés Pajares), and “Gustavete” (Gabino Diego) are traveling entertainers, traveling through Spain to perform their act before the Republican troops. Early one morning, the three artists find themselves in Franco-controlled territory. The captive entertainers are horrified at the deaths of several innocents at the hands of the fascists; they are then forced to perform a show for their captors. Swallowing their pride and hiding their disgust, the entertainers agree to do so. But Carmela, who is depicted as the embodiment of the Second Republic, is unable to go through with this humiliation: before an assembly of army men, she defiantly sings a paean to the Loyalist cause, and in so doing, achieves martyrdom. ¡Ay Carmela! is the third film in Saura’s long career set during the Civil War period and it was part of a series of films on the war that began to appear regularly from the mid-1980s; other key examples are Jaime Chávarri’s Las bicicletas son para el verano (1984) and Vicente Aranda’s Libertarias (1990). In this case, the stage itself becomes the mirror that reflects the changing alliances of a nation divided by war. Through the protagonist’s ultimate act of disobedience and subsequent sacrifice, Saura emphasizes the need to rebel against political impositions by reaffirming individual creativity, memory, and performance. Memory and performance are closely interwoven in Saura’s work from his earlier films produced under Franco’s dictatorship to his later dance-based films. Although in his first (and more political) films characters “stage” rituals and work through a repressive past, his dance films dramatize through rehearsals and repetitions a notion of community based on performance. Although the film lacks the metaphorical subplots of Saura’s earlier films on the Spanish Civil War, it transcends the particular by symbolizing in Carmela, and in its comic counterpart Gustavete, the tragic destiny of a Spain that was defeated and silenced by the fascists’ victory. It also poses questions dealing with artistic and cultural freedom: how much is it possible to compromise in the face of censorship and dictatorial control? What does one do in the face of inevitable doom? These are undoubtedly questions of specific relevance to those who struggled to make films under the dictatorship, but they also raise questions about the here and now, and indicate how the civil war is revisited to comment on the concerns of the present. See also Las bicicletas son para el verano (Bicycles Are for the Summer); Libertarias (Freedom Fighters); Carmen Maura (Appendix A); Carlos Saura (Appendix A) Bibliography Berthier, Nancy. De la guerre à l’écran: ¡Ay, Carmela! de Carlos Saura. Toulouse: Presses Universitaires du Mirail, 2005. Rodríguez Fuentes, Carmen, ed. Desmontando a Saura. Girona: Luces de Gálibo, 2013.

—Santiago Juan-Navarro

AZULOSCUROCASINEGRO      47

AZULOSCUROCASINEGRO (DARK BLUE ALMOST BLACK) (2006) Director: Daniel Sánchez Arévalo Screenplay: Daniel Sánchez Arévalo Specs: 105 minutes; color Azuloscurocasinegro is a 2006 film directed by Daniel Sánchez Arévalo. The film tells the story of two brothers: one of them is infertile and asks the other to impregnate his fiancée, who is in jail. Following five shorts shot between 2002 and 2004, Azuloscurocasinegro was Sánchez Arévalo’s first feature-length film. It won the Best New Director, Best Supporting Actor, and Best New Actor awards at the Goya Awards in 2007, as well as two Spanish Actors Union Awards the same year (Best Actor and Supporting Male Performance). The film also did well at national and international festivals, with awards at the Málaga Spanish Film Festival, Premios ACE, Sant Jordi Awards, Santa Barbara International Film Festival, Stockholm Film Festival, Tallin Black Nights Film Festival, Toulouse Cinespaña, Turia Awards, and the Venice Film Festival. The film starts with the parallel stories of “Jorge” (Quim Gutiérrez) and “Antonio” (Antonio de la Torre). Jorge works as a janitor and looks after his father, “Andrés” (Héctor Colomé), who suffered a stroke seven years before; he has just completed a degree in economics and is looking for a better job that will offer him an escape from his humble family and surroundings. Antonio is serving time; in a prison theater workshop, he meets “Paula” (Marta Etura) and together they decide to have a baby. One day Jorge receives a visit from his girlfriend, “Natalia” (Eva Pallarés), who returns after one year’s absence. Almost simultaneously, Paula and Antonio ask him to impregnate her as Antonio is found out to be infertile. As Jorge’s

Marta Etura and Antonio de la Torre. Strand Releasing / Photofest © Strand Releasing

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relation with Natalia grows problematic and unsatisfactory, he comes to understand Paula’s motives and backstory. Finally, he agrees to impregnate her; sex turns out to be gratifying to both of them, which creates an awkward situation for all—especially for Jorge, whose strong ethical principles would make him act in a very different way. Antonio is offered parole and joins Jorge in caring for their father. But it soon becomes clear that Antonio is more interested in his father’s bank account than in his well-being. A subplot unfolds around “Israel” (Raúl Arévalo), a friend of Jorge’s who finds out that his own father, “Fernando” (Manuel Morón), is homosexual; almost simultaneously, he realizes he himself is also gay, which causes him much anxiety and angst. Surrounded and defined by all these characters, Jorge’s personality grows always more ethical; he is singled out as the only character who possesses good judgment and strong principles. Soon Paula announces that she is pregnant from Jorge. In an unexpected twist, the brothers’ father turns out to have a small fortune in the bank. Antonio knew it all along; he was planning to take the money and run, and he never cared to tell his brother, Jorge. This precipitates the moral ending of the film: in an act of symbolic justice, the father punishes Antonio. Jorge finds a janitor job elsewhere and leaves the household to start a new life with Paula and their newborn daughter. Israel leaves his dishonest family home and continues his friendship with Jorge. The film is rich in visual symbols and clues. The title refers to the dark-blue tailor-made suit that Jorge dreams of one day wearing to some lucrative job in the financial sector. The father watches on TV Lo verde empieza en los Pirineos (1973), directed by Vicente Escrivá, a hallmark of the Spanish sexy comedy of the 1970s and a telling example of a sycophantic manhood that sharply contrasts with the nuanced coming-of-age stories of Sánchez Arévalo’s male characters. The father’s early dementia, akin to Alzheimer’s disease, is subtly used by the film to create a sense of historical discontinuity with the past (this character is strongly reminiscent of the father in Buero Vallejo’s 1967 drama El tragaluz; actor Héctor Colomé himself performed several times in Buero’s dramas). Israel’s extremely tense relation with his gay father is visually embodied in the family van, which Israel will only be allowed to use once he finds a suitable job. In a symbolic scene, Israel and Jorge use the van to break into the shop window where Jorge’s dream suit is on display. Azuloscurocasinegro is a realist drama that addresses some common concerns of early 21st-century Spanish cinema, such as multiple redefinitions and newly found insecurities of manhood, dysfunctional families, and growing economic and social inequalities. The central character of Jorge is imbued with a strong ethical sense despite the morally flawed environment he lives in. See also Gordos (Fat People); La gran familia española (Family United) Bibliography Wilkinson, Amber. “Azuloscurocasinegro.” Eye for Film. 2006. http://www.eyeforfilm .co.uk/review/azuloscurocasinegro-film-review-by-amber-wilkinson (October 12, 2015).

—Alfredo Martínez-Expósito

•  B • EL BAILE DE LA VICTORIA (THE DANCER AND THE THIEF) (2009) Director: Fernando Trueba Screenplay: Fernando Trueba, Antonio Skármeta, and Jonás Trueba Specs: 129 minutes; color El baile de la Victoria is a 2013 film directed by Fernando Trueba based on the novel of the same title by Chilean writer Antonio Skármeta. The film narrates a story of love and revenge involving two ex-convicts and a ballet dancer. The film received several nominations for the 24th Premios Goya (Goya Awards), including Best Film, Best Director, and Best Supporting Actor (Ricardo Darín). In 1988 the president of Chile granted a general amnesty for prisoners of nonviolent crimes by which “Nicolás Vergara Grey” (Ricardo Darín), a renowned thief, is set free. During his years in prison, he kept the name of his accomplice, “Monasterio” (Luis Gnecco), secret. Vergara Grey now wants his share of that heist to retire, reconnect with his family, and move past his criminal life. For his part, “Ángel Santiago” (Abel Ayala), a young criminal who is also released due to

Ricardo Darín and Ariadna Gil. Vertice Cine / Photofest © Vertice Cine

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the amnesty, plans to retaliate against the warden of the prison, “Santoro” (Julio Jung), who abused him during his incarceration. Shortly after being released, Ángel meets “Victoria Ponce” (Miranda Bodenhöfer), a ballet dancer who has not spoken a word since her parents were killed during General Pinochet’s dictatorship. Victoria and Ángel start a romantic relationship. Victoria’s dance professor tells him that she escaped the orphanage with the desire to learn how to dance to honor her dead parents. Ángel, who used to work with horses, takes Milton, a horse that he used to train, and rides with Victoria to see his parents. The warden suspects that Ángel may attempt to retaliate for the abuses he suffered while he was imprisoned and decides to temporarily release “Rigoberto Marín” (Luis Dubó), a dangerous criminal, to kill him. Ángel visits Vergara Grey to inform him about the plans for a great heist, but Vergara Grey is only interested in recovering his family. However, Vergara Grey visits his son to discover that “Teresa Capriatti” (Ariadna Gil), his longtime love, moved on and is in a serious relationship. The following day, Monasterio informs Vergara Grey that he lost the money from the heist. Furthermore, he learns that they are in debt due to ill-advised investments. Since his personal plans do not materialize, Vergara Grey listens to Ángel’s master plan to steal the safe of one of Pinochet’s directors of Secret Services. In spite of Vergara Grey’s numerous refusals, Ángel continues insisting but to no avail. Vergara Grey, moved by Ángel’s love for Victoria, develops a relationship with the young criminal. The two protagonists do not suspect that they are being observed by Rigoberto, who, instead of killing Ángel, informs the warden that they are planning an important robbery. Meanwhile, Ángel registers Victoria for a tryout in the dance academy. The committee rejects her because she does not speak and for her ragged appearance. After an emotional outburst, she runs away. When Ángel and Vergara Grey are searching for her, Ángel discovers that Victoria prostitutes herself in an adult cinema. After this incident, Victoria is gravely ill. While she is hospitalized, Ángel decides to carry out his revenge on the warden of the prison. At night, he follows him home and beats him up but does not kill him. The following day, Ángel returns the horse to the breeder. The warden attempts to find Rigoberto to order him to stop the plan to kill Ángel and command him to return to the prison, but he does not succeed. Victoria recovers, but the doctor warns that she needs to recover her desire to live. Ángel and Vergara Grey plan a performance at the Municipal Theatre to fulfill Victoria’s dream of performing the choreography she created to honor her parents. Ángel kidnaps the director of the dance academy while Vergara Grey calls in a favor so that the ballet reviewer of the city newspaper attends the performance, which is a success. The next day, the two protagonists successfully carry out the heist. When they part ways, Ángel goes to the horse track to purchase Milton. When he is leaving the track, he recognizes Rigoberto, who kills him as they greet each other and steals the money. Unaware of Ángel’s fate, Vergara Grey and Victoria continue with the escape plan and cross the Andes by horse. While they are waiting for him, the guide explains that Ángel went to prison because one night he borrowed the horse of a wealthy person. The follow-

BALADA TRISTE DE TROMPETA     51

ing day as they wait at the meeting point, a horse approaches and Victoria softly says, “Ángel.”  See also Belle Époque (Belle Epoque); Ópera prima (Opera Prima); Fernando Trueba (Appendix A) —Enrique Téllez-Espiga

BALADA TRISTE DE TROMPETA (THE LAST CIRCUS) (2010) Director: Álex de la Iglesia Screenplay: Álex de la Iglesia Specs: 107 minutes; color Madrid, 1937. In the middle of a performance, a circus troupe is recruited to fight on the Republican side of the Civil War. The head clown (Santiago Segura) fights admirably armed only with a machete, but his son “Javier” (Jorge Clemente) witnesses his slaying at the hands of “Colonel Salcedo” (Sancho Gracia). Madrid, 1973. Continuing in the family tradition, Javier (now played by Carlos Areces) is newly employed as a “sad clown” for a circus. A witness to the cruel violence that “happy clown” “Sergio” (Antonio de la Torre) extends to girlfriend and trapeze artist, “Natalia” (Carolina Bang, in her feature debut), Javier tries to protect her from Sergio’s savage beatings. But when Javier and Natalia are enjoying themselves at a carnival, Sergio finds them and beats Javier with the

Carlos Areces. Magnet Releasing / Photofest © Magnet Releasing

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mallet of a high striker (or strength tester). Javier escapes from the hospital and, clad only in his hospital gown, seeks vengeance on Sergio by brutally beating his head with a trumpet. Javier then flees and lives naked in a hole, surviving despite little shelter from the snow and eating raw meat from a deer. Salcedo finds him, and recognizing him makes him a slave for his hunting preserve, where the colonel entertains his prestigious guests, including Franco, whom Javier viciously bites on the hand. While being punished for this action, Javier mutilates his face in order to look like a clown permanently; armed with machine guns, he dons the vestments of a bishop, kills Salcedo, escapes, and terrorizes the city. Despite Javier’s protestations, Natalia decides to stay with Sergio, still alive, but his face also permanently mutilated due to Javier and the trumpet. Javier kidnaps her, and Sergio and the police give chase, with the climax occurring at the Valle de los Caídos, harkening back to the Civil War scenes and Javier’s father. Many critics noted the film’s allegorical nature, as the two time periods for the film enhance its status as a political allegory, with Javier symbolizing Republican Spain and Sergio, Francoist Spain. Javier encountering Franco, in addition to him witnessing the ETA (Euskadi Ta Askatasuna) assassination of Luis Carrero Blanco (Franco’s potential successor), further adds to this interpretation. Balada triste de trompeta was received warmly at the Venice Film Festival, where it won three awards, including Best Screenplay and the Silver Lion (second-place film). The Spanish Academy was less generous, only bestowing awards for special effects and makeup, but it did receive an additional 13 nominations, all the more remarkable due its uncanny nature. Overall, the film’s dark humor makes it an unclassifiable film—even if its moments of explosive, gory violence increased its popularity among horror audiences—but it is perhaps best situated within that uniquely Spanish genre of esperpento (grotesque comedy). Made in between the more conventional The Oxford Murders (2008) and La chispa de la vida (2011), Balada triste de trompeta was a return to de la Iglesia’s first two films, Acción mutante (1993) and El día de la bestia (1995). De la Iglesia had long desired to make a film about a “psychokiller clown,” and Balada triste de trompeta, released as The Last Circus in English markets, typifies his ambition to make films that attack what he sees as the “conspiracy of boredom” in much of Spanish cinema. See also Acción mutante (Mutant Action); Las brujas de Zugarramurdi (Witching & Bitching); La comunidad (Common Wealth); El día de la bestia (The Day of the Beast); Álex de la Iglesia (Appendix A) Bibliography Kercher, Dona. Latin Hitchcock: How Almodóvar, Amenábar, de la Iglesia, del Toro and Campanella Became Notorious. London: Wallflower, 2015. Sherriff, Gina. “Franco’s Monsters: The Fantasy of Childhood in El laberinto del fauno and Balada triste de trompeta.” Confluenica 30 (Spring 2015): 127–39.

—Zachary Ingle

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BARCELONA (UN MAPA) (BARCELONA, A MAP) (2007) Director: Ventura Pons Screenplay: Ventura Pons, based on the play Barcelona, mapa d’ombres (Barcelona, Map of Shadows) by Lluïsa Cunillé Specs: 90 minutes; color Barcelona (un mapa) is an adaptation of the play Barcelona, mapa d’ombres (Barcelona, Map of Shadows, in English), written in Catalan in 2004 by Lluïsa Cunillé. The movie was nominated for the Best Adapted Screenplay award at the Premios Goya 2008, and for Best Catalan Film at Premis Butaca 2008. The plot of the film revolves around five conversations between an old married couple, “Ramon” (Josep María Pou) and “Rosa” (Núria Espert)—the landlords of an apartment—and their tenant, Rosa’s brother, “Santi” (Jordi Bosch). All dialogues take place the same day in a short period of time in the couple’s apartment. The transition between each conversation is marked by images of the character who is going to talk, featuring their job or hobby. The first three conversations occur in the tenant’s room and starts with a reminder: they had to leave the room a few days ago, but they haven’t done so as of yet. It is necessary that they vacate the apartment by next Monday. Ramon has terminal cancer and wants to spend his last days alone with his wife. After this warning, the dialogues flow over a variety of topics. The characters talk about themselves, reveal their secrets, and show their solitude, their needs, their failures, and their pasts. Barcelona, some of its famous buildings, and several historical events that happened in the city appear in each conversation and are used as a background to explain the characters’ behavior.

Núria Espert and Pablo Derqui. © Photofest

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The first dialogue takes place between “Lola” (Rosa María Sardà), a senior French teacher, and Ramon. After she arrives at the apartment, Ramon reminds her that she has to leave. Then they talk about different topics, and she explains she has a son but almost no relation with him. That’s why she insists on staying in the apartment, arguing she can’t live with her son. Ramon explains his secret to her: he was a doorman of the “El Liceu,” Barcelona’s opera theater, and there he started to enjoy dressing as a woman. After this conversation, Ramon goes to “Violeta’s” (María Botto) room, an Argentinean immigrant who works as a cook in a restaurant. She is not there, but he decides to sit in a chair and wait for her, falling asleep. Meanwhile, Rosa starts a conversation with “David” (Pablo Derqui), a security guard. She also asks him to leave the room. Then, the topic turns and they explain to each other personal confidences: he has divorced recently, so he has no place to go. Besides, he has always been unhappy. Although he was once a soccer player, he never actually reached his dream to play in the first division league. She also explains a painful memory to him: her daughter died in a bus accident several years earlier. When David falls asleep, she takes the gun he uses at his job, which he keeps in a drawer, and leaves the room. When Violeta arrives at her room, Ramon reminds her that she must vacate. As in the previous scenes, the conversation flows over personal secrets. He asks about her pregnancy, and she reveals she is carrying his baby. The same day Ramon found out he had terminal cancer, Rosa was not present. He was devastated and visited Violeta looking for consolation. She took pity on him and had sex to comfort him, becoming pregnant. Despite feeling alone and wanting to have the baby, she wants nothing from Ramon. At the same time, a conversation between Rosa and her brother takes place in the apartment’s living room. He is a surgeon, and she tells him she will need his help soon. In an endearing exchange, she offers to let him read the diary she has been writing since she was a child. More, she wants him to read it to let him know an important secret she wrote therein several years ago: Santi is not her brother, but her son—a child of an incestual relationship with her father. The final conversation occurs in the married couple’s bedroom, revealing why they want to be alone and why Rosa has taken David’s gun: an elaborate, though fraudulent, scheme for Ramon to commit suicide and allow for Rosa to inherit his pension. See also Ventura Pons (Appendix A) —Miki Ishimori

BARRIO (NEIGHBORHOOD) (1998) Director: Fernando León de Aranoa Screenplay: Fernando León de Aranoa Specs: 94 minutes; color Barrio is a 1998 film directed by Fernando León de Aranoa that depicts the summer vacation of three teenagers from a neighborhood on the periphery of Madrid. The film won the Best Director, Best Screenplay, and Best New Actress awards

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Timy Benito, Críspulo Cabezas, and Eloi Yebra. Warner Sogefilms S.A. / Photofest © Warner Sogefilms S.A.

at the 13th Premios Goya in 1999. Barrio was featured in the Festival Internacional de San Sebastián in 1998, where it won the Silver Seashell for Best Director, the Alma Award for Best Screenplay, and also received a special mention for the FIPRESCI Prize commending its representation of youth and its value as social testimony. “Rai” (Críspulo Cabezas), “Javi” (Timy Benito), and “Manu” (Eloi Yebra) are three teenagers starting their summer vacation in a Madrid suburb. Although they yearn to visit the beach, their families’ economic and social situations prevent them from fulfilling their dreams. Javi lives with his parents, his sister “Susi” (Marieta Orozco), and his grandfather. His father, “Ricardo” (Enrique Villén), abuses his wife, “Carmen” (Alicia Sánchez), which breaks up their marriage. Rai resides with his mother and father, but he is closer to his older brother (Nicolás Abraham), who works in downtown Madrid as a security guard. Finally, Manu lives with his recovering alcoholic father, “Ángel” (Francisco Algora), who conceals the fact that Manu’s older brother is a drug addict. The three protagonists spend most of their time in a wasteland next to a highway. There, they talk about their dreams and their sexual desires, and they even organize a Caribbean-themed party. While eating with his family, Rai learns about the sweepstakes to win a trip to the Caribbean with the purchase of 20

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yogurts. His mother refuses to buy so many, so when he goes to the grocery store with Javi, he steals the tops of the yogurts and sends the letter. He wins the second prize, a jet ski, which he cannot use in the city and is subsequently stolen. Manu wants to earn some money and gets a job as a pizza deliveryman, even though he does not own a motorbike. He uses public transportation and is always late for the deliveries. During one delivery, he sees his father on the bus. He hides from him and waits until his father gets off. In Javi’s home, the arguments and tension become more frequent. One day, when he arrives home, he discovers that his mother has pressed charges against his father and she has filed for divorce. Ricardo is forced to leave the house and has to live in a van. Rai becomes involved in petty drug trafficking. He is arrested and brought to the courthouse, where he spends one night in a cell. The following day is Manu’s birthday. He eagerly waits for his brother, but he never turns up or calls him. In the afternoon, Javi calls him and invites him to go with him to pick up Rai when he is released. The three friends celebrate the birthday in Madrid’s downtown. When they decide to return to the neighborhood, they miss the last subway. They walk through the subway tunnels and they find a ghost station inhabited by beggars. When Manu arrives home, he sees a note from his father stating that he missed his brother, who bought him a watch. The following day, as he walks through the neighborhood, he sees the watch in a dollar store. He suspects that his father has a secret, so he decides to take the bus to the stop where his father got off. At this time, he discovers that his brother, rather than a successful businessman, is a drug addict living under a bridge. Toward the end of the film, when he receives his paycheck, he tells his father that the previous day he was with his brother, who gave him money, handing his father his salary. During the final sequence, Rai asks Susi out. In order to impress her, he decides to steal a car. The vehicle belongs to a paranoid policeman, afraid that Basque terrorists are targeting him. When the policeman approaches the car, he sees Rai. He points the gun at him and orders him to freeze. Rai looks to the buildings that surround him and, as soon as he starts running, the policeman shoots and kills him. See also El Bola (Pellet); Fernando León de Aranoa (Appendix A) Bibliography Téllez-Espiga, Enrique. “Periferia segmentada y no-lugares en Barrio (1998) de Fernando León de Aranoa.” Hispanic Research Journal 15, no. 4 (August 2014): 360–74.

—Enrique Téllez-Espiga

BELLE EPOQUE (BELLE EPOQUE) (1992) Director: Fernando Trueba Screenplay: Rafael Azcona, José Luis García Sánchez, and Fernando Trueba Specs: 109 minutes; color Belle Epoque is a 1992 romantic comedy film directed by Fernando Trueba. The film tells the story of a young soldier who pursues the four daughters of a liberal

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Penélope Cruz and Jorge Sanz. Sony Pictures Classics / Photofest © Sony Pictures Classics

painter several years before the Spanish Civil War. In 1994, Belle Epoque became the second Spanish film to win the Academy Award for Best Foreign Film. It also won the BAFTA for Best Film Not in English in 1995, as well as nine 1993 Goya Awards, including Best Film and Best Director. The film begins in February 1931 when “Fernando” (Jorge Sanz), a young soldier who deserted the army, is arrested on suspicion by two soldiers who are father and son-in-law. The older soldier decides to free Fernando and is shot by his son-in-law, who then turns the gun on himself. Fernando escapes and makes his way to a brothel, where he meets the lonely “Don Manolo” (Fernando FernánGómez). Manolo takes Fernando to his home and discovers the young man’s talent for cooking. After some time, Manolo, who is married to an opera singer currently on tour in the Americas, takes Fernando (whom he now sees as a very close friend and adoptive son) to the train station so the soldier can depart for Madrid before the older man’s four daughters return from the capital. Fernando sees the four beautiful women, the widowed “Clara” (Maribel Verdú), the second oldest, “Violeta” (Ariadna Gil), the engaged “Rocío” (Miriam Díaz Aroca), and the youngest, “Luz” (Penélope Cruz), and decides to miss his train and return to Don Manolo’s home, much to his host’s chagrin. Upon arrival, Fernando immediately attempts to romance Manolo’s daughters. He first tries with Rocío, but she is engaged to “Juanito” (Gabino Diego), a goofy schoolteacher with a wealthy but overbearing mother (Chus Lampreave). Fernando’s attention quickly turns to Violeta, but it is clear Violeta has no interest in men. The two eventually do have sex after a costume party—but only

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because Fernando is dressed like a French maid and Violeta like a male Spanish soldier. Fernando nevertheless becomes enraptured by Violeta and asks her to marry him but is swiftly rejected. He then turns his sights again to Rocío, who calls off her engagement to Juanito after the teacher renounces his mother and religion by attending a revolutionary committee meeting. Fernando and Rocío have sex but are discovered by Clara. Clara is upset because she thought Fernando was attracted to her and could fill the void of her dead husband. Fernando chases after Clara, who pushes him in a river, saves him, and then proceeds to have sex with him. Due to the cold water and overexposure, Fernando becomes ill and is nursed back to health by the four sisters. Luz, the only one of Manolo’s daughters Fernando has not bedded, admits her love for the young soldier, but in his weakened and delirious state, he inadvertently spurns her. The following morning, Manolo’s wife, “Amalia” (Mary Carmen Ramírez), arrives home from her opera tour in the Americas. She brings with her “Danglard” (Michel Galabru), her manager and part-time lover. Immediately after appearing, Manolo and Amalia retire to the bedroom, much to Danglard’s frustration. It becomes clear to Fernando that not only the four daughters but also Manolo know of and accept Amalia’s extramarital activities. After reconnecting with her husband, Amalia quickly discovers all that has transpired in her absence. It becomes apparent, especially after discovering Fernando and Luz kissing during a picnic, that the two should marry and Amalia makes this a priority before leaving for another opera tour. News arrives from Madrid that the Republicans have overthrown the dictatorship and a celebration occurs at Manolo’s household, ending with the marriage of Fernando and Luz. The film ends with the three oldest daughters returning to Madrid, Amalia and Danglard embarking on another musical tour, Luz and a disappointed Fernando starting on a new life together, and Manolo riding home alone, waiting for the next visit from his family. See also El baile de la Victoria (The Dancer and the Thief); Penélope Cruz (Appendix A); Fernando Fernán-Gómez (Appendix A); Ópera prima (Opera Prima); Jorge Sanz (Appendix A); Fernando Trueba (Appendix A) —Jonathan Clark

LAS BICICLETAS SON PARA EL VERANO (BICYCLES ARE FOR THE SUMMER) (1983)  Director: Jaime Chávarri Screenplay: Salvador Maldonado, based on a play by Fernando Fernán-Gómez Specs: 103 minutes; color Bicycles Are for the Summer is a historical drama based on a very successful play by celebrated actor-director Fernando Fernán-Gómez. It premiered in 1982 and drew considerable praise by the critics, receiving the prestigious Lope de Vega literature prize. His rapid success helped to solidify Fernán-Gómez’s reputation as a playwright.

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Victoria Abril and Carlos Tristancho. In-Cine Distribuidora Cinematográfica S.A. / Photofest © In-Cine Distribuidora Cinematográfica S.A.

The film, directed by Jaime Chávarri, portrays with great realism the effects and consequences of the war in the lives of a middle-class Madrid family. It re-creates the difficulties and hardships of the neighbors in an apartment building during the siege of Madrid in the Spanish Civil War (1936–1939). The movie features a strong ensemble cast that includes Agustín González, Amparo Soler Leal, Gabino Diego, Victoria Abril, and Marisa Paredes, among others. “Don Luis” is a very pragmatic character throughout the story. He is endowed with a very tolerant spirit and a genuine appreciation for democracy and freedom. He is constantly trying to instill his values of justice and respect in his two children, “Luisito” and “Manolita” (Victoria Abril). His great performance as the family’s patriarch is both complex and compelling, creating an unforgettable character whose presence will linger well after the movie is over. Bicycles Are for the Summer follows the most significant historical events affecting the people in Madrid from the assassination of the conservative monarchist politician Calvo Sotelo (1893–1936) to the failed coup d’état by the Nationalist faction that initiated the Civil War. The story conveys a nostalgic air of a lost time before the war, a period when Fernán-Gómez lived in Madrid during his teenage years. The opening scene includes Luisito (Gabino Diego) and his friend “Pablo” (Emilio Serrano) discussing the end of the school year and their excitement about the approaching summer holidays. Luisito is the youngest son of Don Luis (Agustín Gónzález) and one of the central characters of the story. He is a typical teenager with a deep love for literature and movies. A normal conversation among friends moves to war games as they re-create the Italian campaign in

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Ethiopia and try to imagine the unfeasible notion of a war in Spain or, even more improbable, in the city of Madrid. Luisito’s desires of gaining independence from his parents to go out with his friends are personified in the bicycle that his father promises to buy him if he passes his physics class at school. The bicycle and the summer will be two of the most important symbols throughout the story, representing the idea of freedom, hope, and innocence lost by the Civil War. Luisito’s aspirations of becoming a writer will also be one of the many dreams that the conflict will bring to an end. Gabino Diego provides an outstanding interpretation of the lively teenager in his first movie role. The main characters live through the long siege of Madrid by the Franco’s troops, aerial bombing, sniper fire, and the relentless artillery shelling of the Spanish capital. As the war advances, the plot thickens, re-creating several intense episodes that underline the brutality in the battle of Madrid. The daily fight for survival, the shortage of food, rationing, and eventual hunger are also some of the recurring themes in the plot. These scenes strengthen the drama and show a quick deterioration of civilian life on the home front. The poor morale, death, and fear are balanced by the great spirit of sacrifice, determination, and solidarity of the central characters. However, the story avoids the representation of any political or ideological aspects, focusing more on the hardships and deterioration of individual and social life during the war. A very subtle and gentle humor permeates the dialogue, helping the main characters cope with the absurdity and tragedy of war. The final scene between Don Luis and Luisito emphasizes how the lives of this family and all Spaniards will never be the same after the war. The last statement by Don Luis to his son, “God only knows when there will be another summer,” encapsulates the hard times ahead with the arrival of Franco’s troops, a time that will likely bring Don Luis’s imprisonment and an end to all of Luisito’s hopes and dreams. See also El desencanto (The Disenchantment); Fernando Fernán-Gómez (Appendix A); Marisa Paredes (Appendix A) —Agustín Otero

BIUTIFUL (BIUTIFUL) (2010) Director: Alejandro González Iñárritu Screenplay: Armando Bo, Nicolás Giacobone, and Alejandro González Iñárritu Specs: 148 minutes; color In Biutiful, celebrated Mexican director Alejandro González Iñárritu makes Barcelona the setting for one of his famed films about the intricately interconnected tragedies of the contemporary, globalized world. It was his first film endeavor after his premiere directorial foray, the renowned trilogy of Amores perros (2000), 21 grams (2003), and Babel (2006). Like these former films, Biutiful received much critical acclaim, garnering a total of 18 awards and 45 nominations. Nomination highlights include Oscars for Best Actor (Javier Bardem) and Best Foreign

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Hanaa Bouchaib, Javier Bardem, and Guillermo Estrella. LD Entertainment / Photofest © LD Entertainment

Language Film; a Golden Globe for Best Foreign Language Film; the Cannes Palme d’Or (Alejandro González Iñárritu); and Goyas for Best Cinematography (Rodrigo Prieto), Best Original Screenplay (Armando Bo, Nicolás Giacobone, and Alejandro González Iñárritu), Best Supporting Actor (Eduard Fernández), Best Supporting Actress (Ana Wagener), Best Original Score (Gustavo Santaolalla), Best Editing (Stephen Mirrione), and Best Production Design (Brigitte Broch). The film won a Goya for Best Lead Actor (Javier Bardem), in addition to further Best Actor awards for Bardem at the Cannes Film Festival, the CEC Awards, and the Spanish Actors Union Awards. The plot of the film focuses on Bardem’s character, “Uxbal,” who finds out that he is dying of cancer. Uxbal is full-time father to his two children, “Ana” (Hanaa Bouchaib) and “Mateo” (Guillermo Estrella), as his estranged wife, “Marambra” (Maricel Álvarez), is unreliable, suffering from addiction and bipolar disorder. To make a living, he forms part of the seedy underworld of Barcelona, working with two Chinese bosses, “Hai” (Taishen Cheng) and his partner, “Liwei” (Jin Luo), to employ illegal Chinese immigrants, first in Hai’s textile factory and later at the construction site managed by his own brother, “Tito” (Eduard Fernández). Uxbal also acts as managerial middleman for a group of illegal African immigrants, led by “Ekweme” (Cheikh Ndiaye), who clandestinely sell the knock-off textile goods produced by the Chinese in Hai’s factory. Uxbal’s economic pursuits do not end there, however. He appears to have a gift for communicating with the dead, so he also earns money by selling his supernatural

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services to grieving families. Although Uxbal himself may at first glance appear to be a dodgy character, he does his best to advocate for the illegal immigrants with whom he works. In fact, one of the Chinese immigrants, “Li” (Lang Sofía Lin), regularly cares for his children and seems like a member of the family. Uxbal frequently visits Ekweme’s family in their cramped apartment and eventually invites Ekweme’s wife and infant son, “Ige” (Diaryatou Daff) and “Samuel” (George Chibuikwem Chukwuma), to stay with him when Ekweme is deported. The deportation of Ekweme and the other African immigrants illegally selling knock-off goods, after a violent pursuit down Las Ramblas, forms part of the interconnected tragedy that drives the film. Uxbal feels responsible for the deportation since he had been deceived by the police that he has bribed, including “Mendoza” (Karra Elejalde) and “Zanc” (Rubén Ochandiano), believing that his crew will be left alone by the officers. If this were not enough, he feels even more resoundingly responsible when cheap heaters, which he purchased to try to keep the Chinese immigrants warm, malfunction and the immigrants all die of carbon dioxide poisoning in the basement of Hai’s factory. These symbolic losses through deportation, as well as literal losses through death, reflect Uxbal’s own situation of terminal illness, which will leave his children as orphans, not being able to count on their irresponsible mother. However, amid the plight of the intersecting tragedies of the globalized underclass of Barcelona, the indomitable human spirit shines through at particular moments. Ige, after almost taking Uxbal’s money and running to Senegal to join Ekweme, changes her mind and will stay in Spain to care for Uxbal’s children when he dies. The dead Chinese immigrants, dumped in the Mediterranean by Liwei, return to haunt the coast and refuse erasure, as their bodies wash up on Barcelona’s shore and force recognition of the human dimension of illegal immigration. Uxbal, himself an orphan, whose father had to flee Spain for Mexico during the Franco regime, in the end is reunited with his dad as he passes on to the other side, healing what is, for Uxbal, a deep wound. Although the film does allow for some curative redemption for Uxbal at the end of the film, overall, the pervasive theme of Biutiful plays on the principal protagonist’s supernatural abilities, as the specters of the dead and deported—the undesirable illegal immigrants—haunt the city of Barcelona and its self-identity as the quintessentially glossy, modern European city. In fact, the emphasis on Uxbal’s illness, present from the incipit of the film, is symbolic of the cancerous dimension of global, neoliberal capitalism that eats away at urban society, which works only for the rich while subjugating the poor underclass. Thus, the ineptitude of Uxbal’s cancer treatment is symbolic of the equally unfair treatment of the underclasses of Barcelona. In short, the film voices a disdain widely held by those who see an enormous gap between triumphalist and majestically tourist images of contemporary cities and the class differences, social inequalities, and even the quotidian suffering requisitely hidden by the slick images promoting what many call intercity competition. In one of the most symbolic scenes, in which the illegal African immigrants—or irregulares in Spanish—who attempt to sell their goods on Las Ramblas are violently rounded up and then deported, the cancerous tumor of advanced capitalism gorges on the underclass. In such a system, buying and selling is of utmost importance, but it is the buying and selling of the

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“right” types of commodities that must be upheld. In other words, the rich can sell brand-name products, but the poor cannot sell their knock-offs, particularly not via an undesirable incursion into the high-end space of Las Ramblas. In such a sense, public space in the city is partial to a certain definition of the public—that a more democratic notion of public is always already subject to the uneven laws of capitalist competition. In sum, Iñárritu’s Biutiful firmly places Spain amid the contemporary immigration crises of Europe, asking viewers to interrogate the uneven economic system and urban milieus that oppress the global underclass, immigrants and Spaniards alike who, expulsed and exterminated, return to haunt the nation like supernatural ghosts until the country—and, moreover, Europe— comes to terms with its repressive role in and responsibility for the likes of such interweaved tragedies as are represented in the film. See also Javier Bardem (Appendix A); Las cartas de Alou (Letters from Alou); Flores de otro mundo (Flowers from Another World) Bibliography Azcona, María del Mar, and Celestino Deleyto. Alejandro González Iñárritu. Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 2010. DiFranceso, Maria. “Facing the Specter of Immigration in Biutiful.” Symposium 69, no. 1 (2015): 25–37. Fraser, Benjamin. “A Biutiful City: Alejandro González Iñárritu’s Filmic Critique of the ‘Barcelona Model.’” Studies in Hispanic Cinemas 9, no. 1 (2012): 19–34.

—Amanda Eaton McMenamin

BLANCANIEVES (SNOW WHITE) (2012) Director: Pablo Berger Screenplay: Pablo Berger Specs: 104 minutes; black and white Snow White is a silent film adaptation of the homonymous Brothers Grimm fairy tale directed by Pablo Berger. The film was widely acclaimed nationally and internationally. Snow White won 10 Premios Goya (Goya Awards) in their 27th edition, including the Best Film, Best Screenplay, Best Actress (Maribel Verdú), and Best New Actress (Macarena García) awards. The film also won the Golden Seashell in the Festival Internacional de San Sebastián (San Sebastián International Film Festival) in 2012. The film, set in Seville, starts in 1910 when a famous bullfighter, “Antonio Villalta” (Daniel Giménez Cacho), is set to fight six bulls, his greatest feat. His wife, “Carmen de Triana” (Inma Cuesta), who is pregnant, watches from the grandstands. Everything is a success until he is gored and left paralyzed by the last bull. While he is having surgery, Carmen dies while giving birth to their baby, “Carmen de Villalta/Snow White,” played as a child by Sofía Oria and as an adult by Macarena García. Antonio blames the baby for Carmen’s death and rejects his daughter. During his convalescence, Antonio falls in love with one of the nurses, “Encarna” (Maribel Verdú), who soon starts to control Antonio’s life. Carmen grows

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up with her grandmother, “Doña Concha” (Ángela Molina), yearning for her father’s love and attention. When Doña Concha passes away during the celebration of Carmen’s First Communion, she goes to live with her father and her evil stepmother at their country house. Encarna forbids her from going to the upper level of the house, where her father dwells, and abuses Carmen by putting her in charge of the toughest chores in the house. One day Carmen ventures upstairs and spends time with Antonio, who apologizes for being a bad father. Encarna discovers them and threatens Carmen. One day, Encarna kills Antonio when she pushes him down the stairs. Sometime afterward, “Génaro” (Pere Ponce), Encarna’s chauffeur and lover, attempts to murder Carmen in the woods. He thinks she is dead and abandons her to be later found by a group of seven bullfighter dwarves. Since she suffers from amnesia, they decide to name her Snow White. She joins the troop and becomes part of the performance. Whereas “Rafita” (Sergio Dorado) falls in love with her, “Jesusín” (Emilio Gaviria), always grumpy, is jealous of Carmen and secretly loathes her. Due to their success, “Carlos Montoya” (Josep María Pou), a bullfighting agent, offers to debut their show at the Colossal in Seville. Snow White, who is illiterate, quickly signs an exclusive and perpetual contract with the agent. Meanwhile, Encarna enjoys her new socioeconomic status after inheriting Antonio’s estate. Before Snow White’s great day, Encarna discovers in a magazine that she is still alive. As Snow White prepares for the bullfight, she sees a small picture of her mother and starts to remember her past. Driven by jealousy, Jesusín switches the calf assigned to Snow White for a bull. As she waits to enter the bullring, “Don Antonio” (Ramón Barea), Antonio’s agent, approaches Snow White. After a brief conversation, her past flashes as she enters the bullring. In spite of the initial surprise, she successfully fights the bull and the spectators give a standing ovation. Envious of Snow White’s accomplishments, Encarna poisons an apple and hands it to her. After biting it, she immediately falls to the ground dead in the middle of the bullring. Jesusín, who had seen Encarna with the apple, instructs his comrades to chase Encarna and kill her. Snow White is solemnly taken out of the bullring. During the final sequence, Snow White is an attraction of a freak show run by the bullfight agent. She lies in a glass coffin and, for 10 cents, curious customers can kiss her to try to wake her from her eternal sleep. After several people kiss her, she suddenly sits up due to a mechanism installed on the coffin. Rafita, still in love with her, is responsible for keeping Snow White’s appearance. In the final scene, he kisses her and the final shot shows a tear trickling from Snow White’s eye. Bibliography Bradshaw, Peter. “Blancanieves.” Guardian. 2013. https://www.theguardian.com/ film/2013/jul/11/blancanieves-review (October 12, 2015).

—Enrique Téllez-Espiga

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BOCA A BOCA (MOUTH TO MOUTH) (1995) Director: Manuel Gómez Pereira Screenplay: Manuel Gómez Pereira, Juan Luis Iborra, Joaquín Oristrell, and Naomi Wise Specs: 97 minutes; color Boca a boca is a 1995 romantic comedy directed by Manuel Gómez Pereira. It tells the story of a struggling actor who decides to work as a phone sex operator in order to supplement his income weeks before a major audition for an American film being produced in Spain. The film was nominated for an Independent Spirit Award for Best Foreign Film and eight Goya Awards, winning Best Actor for Javier Bardem. Based on an original screenplay by Pereira, Iborra, Oristrell, and Wise, Boca a boca takes a cheeky, innocent view of sexuality similar to the director’s other films, such as ¿Por qué lo llaman amor cuando quieren decir sexo? (Why Do They Call It Love When They Mean Sex?) (1993). The sex used in the film is played for farce and is simply a plot device to put the characters in zany situations that ultimately force the romantic element of the story to its conclusion. The plot of the film revolves around “Víctor Ventura” (Javier Bardem), an out-of-work actor who has moved to Madrid in an attempt to jump-start his career. With the help of his dedicated yet exasperated agent, “Ángela” (María Barranco), an audition tape featuring Víctor has made its way to a Hollywood casting director, “Shelia Crawford” (played by Myriam Mézières). Shelia finds the young Spanish actor “savage and wild” and perfect for the role in an upcoming American movie set to be produced in Spain. The Americans think Víctor is a huge star in his native country, but he is actually delivering pizzas in an effort to make ends meet. One day, Víctor delivers a pizza to a phone sex hotline company and discovers how much money he could make by simply talking dirty to the clients (mostly men) who call. He gets hired by the hotline’s manager, “Raúl” (Fernando Guillén Cuervo), and during his initial call with a man identified as “Bill” (Josep María Flotats), Víctor discovers that this line of work is not too different from being an actor. He is successful and soon has regular clients, including Bill, the married but closeted man who was Víctor’s first caller. A few months later, a woman calls the hotline and asks to speak specifically to Víctor. The caller identifiers herself as “Amanda” (Aitana Sánchez-Gijón) and tells Víctor that her husband is Ricardo but uses the pseudonym Bill. After affirming his own heterosexuality, Víctor begins his routine with Amanda, except this time it is not an act. A few days later, Amanda gets in touch with Víctor and asks him to meet her face to face at a local bar. Nervous, but excited, Víctor agrees and arrives at the bar and sees a beautiful woman who claims not to be Amanda. Another woman arrives and Víctor buys her a drink, but he is uninterested because she is older, not attractive, and rude. The beautiful woman then walks up to Víctor and hands him a matchbook with an address, her address, and he immediately follows her out of the bar, leaving the other woman behind. She tells him she is in fact Amanda and the two go to her rented apartment and have sex.

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The next morning, she wants him to leave, yelling and crying that the previous night was a mistake. Víctor calms her down and she tells him about her life with her husband. Ricardo (aka Bill) is a plastic surgeon and when they were married their lives were wonderful. They had two children and were happy for a while, until Ricardo became distant and stayed at work incredibly late. Amanda eventually discovered, using the callback on her husband’s phone, that he has been contacting phone sex hotlines. This is how she discovered Víctor. She wants to divorce Ricardo but is afraid she will be left penniless and have her children taken away. Víctor suggests a plan to catch Ricardo with his pants down in the arms of another man. Ricardo calls the hotline a few days later and Víctor tells him that they have to meet or never speak again. After some hesitation, Ricardo agrees and they decide to meet at a local bar. Once together, Ricardo is incredibly nervous, but they go to Amanda’s rented apartment. The plan is that they will go to bed together and then a man will enter and snap some photographs. Just as Ricardo is removing his clothes, Víctor sees a photo in his client’s wallet. Ricardo says that it is his wife, Amanda, but the picture is not the woman Víctor has fallen in love with, but is in fact the older woman he left behind at the bar several nights before. At that moment, the door is kicked in and a man with a gun (Jordi Bosch) races into the bedroom, intending to kill the two men. The assassin is knocked unconscious after Víctor breaks a vase over his head, and the two men flee. Just as they are leaving, Ángela arrives and tells Víctor he must come to dinner immediately because the Hollywood director (Alastair Mackenzie) has arrived in Madrid and wants to meet him. Ricardo tags along with Víctor and Ángela because he fears for his life. Once at the restaurant, Víctor borrows Ricardo’s jacket to look more “Spanish” for the Hollywood crowd. The actor and his agent sit with the director while Ricardo takes a seat at another table. The director tells Víctor that he would be perfect, but he will likely not be able to cast him because the film’s star, “Debra Reynolds” (Tres Hanley), has final say on who will play her love interest in the production. During this interview, a cell phone keeps ringing in the pocket of Víctor’s borrowed coat. Eventually, Ricardo manages to obtain the phone and discovers that it is his business partner (Emilio Gutiérrez Caba) calling. During the conversation, however, he overhears his wife’s voice in the background saying she cannot believe her husband is still alive. Ricardo finally realizes his wife’s plan to have him murdered. Having convinced the director of his talent, Víctor now has to meet Debra to win her over. However, much to his agent’s chagrin, Víctor discovers the danger Amanda is in because of her role in the murder plot and goes to rescue her. He discovers that she works at a strip bar and is actually married to Raúl, who was paid from the beginning to set up “Bill” with Víctor. Shortly after these revelations, the assassin returns, threatening to kill everyone but is bribed by Ricardo to verify that it is his wife who wants him dead. Finding out his wife and business partner hired the assassin, Ricardo and the rest of the group converge on an upscale hotel where the doctor’s wife is, and, coincidently, Debra, the director, and Ángela are there for a seminar where the actress is the keynote speaker. Ricardo, now furious and slightly drunk, stumbles

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into the hotel with a gun he stole from the assassin and threatens to kill his wife and partner. The police corner him and he backs into an elevator, trapping himself inside with a scared Debra. The police arrive, believing Ricardo to be disturbed, and begin preparations to shoot him, but Víctor intervenes to negotiate with his one-time client. Through the use of the elevator telephone, Víctor persuades Ricardo to surrender, thereby saving everyone’s lives and impressing Debra Reynolds enough to cast him opposite her in the upcoming movie. Víctor then returns to the strip club where Amanda works and convinces her to join him in California, where his acting career is about to take off, similar to the jet they both board to leave their chaotic lives behind in Madrid. Performance is a central theme in Boca a boca—every character in the film is in some way pretending to be someone different. Looking at the four central characters, Víctor is an actor by trade, but he is also performing the role of a phone sex worker and, due to his predominately male clients, a homosexual. Amanda is not really Bill/Ricardo’s wife and, at least initially, only pretends she loves Víctor. Bill/Ricardo performs his role as a heterosexual husband when he is actually a closeted gay man who secretly finds outlets for his repressed sexuality. And Ángela lies and exaggerates her client’s fame and acting ability to the Hollywood visitors. This idea of performance seems to be a motif Pereira employs in many of his films, including ¿Por qué lo llaman amor cuando quieren decir sexo? and the more dramatic Entre las piernas (Between Your Legs, 1999). These films use sex and sexuality as a plot device in order for his characters to perform both for their own gain within the film as well as for the viewer’s pleasure. See also Candela Peña (Appendix A); ¿Por qué lo llaman amor cuando quieren decir sexo? (Why Do They Call It Love When They Mean Sex?) Bibliography Jordan, Barry, and Rikki Morgan-Tamosunas. Contemporary Spanish Cinema. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1998.

—Jonathan Clark

BODAS DE SANGRE (BLOOD WEDDING) (1981) Director: Carlos Saura Screenplay: Carlos Saura, Antonio Gades, Antonio Artero, and Alfredo Mañas, based on a play of the same name by Federico García Lorca Specs: 72 minutes; color Bodas de sangre (Blood Wedding), directed by the decorated Spanish filmmaker Carlos Saura, is an unusual film in many respects. On the surface, it appears to be nothing more than a dress rehearsal for a flamenco adaptation of the famous 1933 play by Federico García Lorca. There is almost no dialogue, and the camera follows dancers’ feet almost obsessively, demonstrating that even more than any individual dancer, it is flamenco itself that is the real star here. Unlike the three-act play on which it is based, the film has only two acts, which can be conceived as Preparation and Rehearsal. Act one, set in the dress-

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Antonio Gades, Cristina Hoyos, and Juan Antonio Jiménez. Libra Films / Photofest © Libra Films

ing room, opens with first the stage manager, then the dancers and musicians entering the area. The camera follows first this, then the character as they apply makeup, chatting all the while, their voices mostly an indistinct buzz. Then the film moves into the only other set used by the film: a Spartan dance studio, in which the unnamed character playing “Leonardo” (noted flamenco star Antonio Gades), obviously an accomplished dancer, prepares briefly alone before the rest of his dance troupe enters and he leads them in practicing certain steps. While the group as a whole is skilled and comfortable with the motions he models, individual dancers do occasionally make mistakes; aside from murmured comments like, “That was okay,” and the like, almost the only dialogue of the entire 72-minute running length occurs when the dancer playing Leonardo (Gades) spares a moment to offer quiet encouragement to those who have fallen out of step. The only other conversation to speak of occurs during the transition from act one to act two, foreshadowed by the dance troupe leader (Gades) saying that he wants to do a full dress rehearsal and won’t stop for anything.

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Only 27 minutes into the film, we arrive at act two, an elliptical depiction of the dress rehearsal itself. This second act of the film, at 43 minutes in length, is well over half the running length of the entire film and contains most of the film’s action. In brief, it purports to show—wordlessly—the essential moments of the play: Leonardo, although married, is still in love with “the Bride” (Cristina Hoyos), whose union with “the Groom” (Juan Antonio Jiménez) culminates in the eponymous wedding, though at the party afterward she elopes with Leonardo, making it all too clear that she still loves Leonardo as well. The Groom, egged on by both his mother (Pilar Cárdenas) and Leonardo’s jealous wife (Carmen Villena), sets out in a rage to kill Leonardo, and they duel with knives, only to end up fatally stabbing each other at the same moment. Throughout (with the exception of the slow-motion knife fight, discussed in greater detail below), we hear what would appear to be diegetic guitar music themed around the Bride’s character, and occasionally singing by the musicians, as well as a great deal of rhythmic clapping and stomping, as one would expect in a flamenco performance. This singing and guitar playing continue for a bit into the scrolling end credits, which are interposed onto a still image in sepia tones taken during the wedding scene; the camera slowly zooms in on the center of this image, showing a rather stern-faced Leonardo/Gades sitting and flanked by his troupe, notably the Bride to his left. On the surface, it appears to be no more than an ordinary dress rehearsal of the real-life star Antonio Gades and his flamenco dance troupe (an interpretation supported by the moment Gades asks the dancer dressed up as the mother [Pilar Cárdenas], “Are you ready, Pilar?”). It appears to be a rehearsal, we might say, that simply happened to be filmed. The truth is considerably more complex, however. For one thing, the camerawork is quite sophisticated, and also very intrusive, making it impossible to believe the dancers remained unaffected by the presence of the camera such that they could do an ordinary rehearsal. At times, the camera moves into aerial medium shots of the dancers writhing on the ground in the center of the studio space, a shot that would require scaffolding or some other apparatus—which, due to the mirrors on either side of the studio space, would then have to be removed. In fact, the film’s true triumph is in its editing: it appears to seamlessly progress through the rehearsal, an illusion aided by the seemingly diegetic guitar music, but in fact is quite elliptical, and must have required constant stops while each new shot was set up. For instance, filming must have stopped before and after each and every one of the numerous close-ups of the dancers’ feet, all of which were taken from a very low camera height, much lower than the vast majority of the rest of the film’s scenes. Since we do not see the camera suddenly sink lower in height, it is safe to conclude filming paused here, the camera was adjusted, and the dancers resumed their performance—or that these close-ups were filmed at another time and sutured seamlessly into the rest of the film. Moreover, the camera moves very carefully through the Spartan dance studio, taking care never to show up in any of the studio’s mirrors. In the practice session near the end of the film’s first act, there are frequent cuts to avoid exposing the film’s apparatus to its own gaze, but the cuts are handled so skillfully that they are virtually invisible. Yet for all that, Saura includes a playful mo-

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ment, when the action and even the supposedly live music pause in tableau and all pose as for a photograph (the very image used for the final credits, in fact). He also frequently displays close-ups of the dancers’ faces, exposing another layer of artifice: their stage makeup, intended to be viewed from several meters away, cannot withstand the relentless inquiring gaze of the camera—a brilliant illustration of one key difference between a live flamenco performance and a version of it with the camera present. The climactic knife fight scene also provides some evidence of Saura’s playfulness. Initially it appears to be simple in its cinematographic form, but soon the camera begins literally spinning 360 degrees around the two dancers, still locked in their duel, which was performed with the camera rolling at normal speed, and the two dancers exerted supreme physical control to create a filmic effect by sheer will: slow motion. All this constitutes a very effective “wink” by Saura, as though to reassure us he’s aware of the artifice of film after all. See also La casa de Bernarda Alba (The House of Bernarda Alba); Carlos Saura (Appendix A) Bibliography Maslin, Janet. “Blood Wedding.” New York Times. 1981. http://www.nytimes.com/ movie/review?res=9907E2D81038F936A15753C1A967948260 (October 12, 2015).

—Sean O’Reilly

EL BOLA (PELLET) (2000) Director: Achero Mañas Screenplay: Achero Mañas and Verónica Fernández Specs: 88 minutes; color El Bola is a 2000 film directed and written by Achero Mañas. The film tells the story of a 12-year-old boy who grew up in a middle-class family with an abusive and machista father who starts to hit him after the death of his eldest brother. The film won the Best Film award at Premios Goya, also Premios José María Forqué and the Círculo de Escritores Cinematográficos (Cinema Writers Circle), as well as the San Jordi Film Festival and Bogotá Film Festival in 2001. Achero Mañas also received the award for Best New Director at the European Film Awards, at Premios Goya, and at the Círculo de Escritores Cinematográficos in 2001. The film was also recognized at the Avignon Film Festival and San Sebastián Film Festival in 2000. The plot of the film revolves around the life of Pablo “el Bola” (Juan José Ballesta), a young teenager who is suffering the physical abuses of his father, “Mariano” (Manuel Morón), and his new school friend, “Alfredo” (Pablo Galán). The film starts when el Bola and some classmates play “to catch a bottle” on the railroad when they hear a train coming. Although el Bola does not like the game much, and his father has forbid him to play it, he plays anyway. When el Bola is not at school, he’s always helping his mother (Gloria Muñoz) to take care of his grandmother and, very frequently, his father requests his help at the family’s

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hardware store. For el Bola there are no other options: he must help his father and take care of his grandmother, otherwise his father becomes upset very easily and enacts violence against him. A new student, Alfredo, starts in school. He’s very independent, mature, and does not like to play the dangerous game that the others play after classes. The schoolboys call Alfredo a coward, but he does not mind and prefers to be alone, staying clear of the risky game. El Bola admires Alfredo’s attitude and though not knowing him well, after school he decides to go to Alfredo’s house. Spending the afternoon with his new friend, el Bola realizes that in Alfredo’s house the atmosphere is very relaxed and Alfredo seems to have a great relationship with the whole family. In fact, Alfredo can stay in his room with his friend and nobody bothers them, because in Alfredo’s family they respect one another. For el Bola, this loving and respectful family relationship is very unusual. At his place, on the contrary, he only receives shouts and kicks from his father, and his mother is always submissive to her husband or upset with Pablo and her mother-in-law. Although el Bola feels that he can trust Alfredo, he doesn’t tell anything about his family and his father’s abusive tendencies. In fact, when el Bola meets Alfredo’s father, José, he is very impressed. José works doing professional tattoos and is very kind and close to Alfredo. Indeed, everybody in his old neighborhood seems to know Alfredo’s family and they love José, as he is really concerned about others, especially his friends and family. el Bola and Alfredo become good friends, but el Bola’s father, who is always nice to his clients and gives the impression of being a gentleman, does not like his son having very close friends. At one point Alfredo invites el Bola to spend the day in the countryside with his family, but el Bola’s father does not allow him to go. Alfredo asks his father to help his friend, and José goes to el Bola’s house. Mariano, el Bola’s father, behaves very kindly with José and he allows his son to go to the countryside. Alfredo’s family spends the day hiking, and before returning to Madrid they change out of their wet clothes, due to a heavy rain. Alfredo notices el Bola’s purple-colored bruises but says nothing. As a consequence of very heavy traffic, el Bola arrives home later than the time José had promised to Mariano. Upset with el Bola, Mariano orders him to end his friendship with Alfredo. El Bola tries to disobey him, but his father, once again, uses violence to reprimand his son. For many days after, el Bola does not go to school. Very worried, Alfredo goes to see el Bola at his place, but el Bola asks him to leave him alone because he doesn’t want to have problems with his father. Alfredo tells his father about el Bola’s bruises and adds that el Bola has missed classes for several days. At el Bola’s house, his father is still very upset with his son; when el Bola contradicts him, Mariano reproaches el Bola for being so very different from his deceased brother. Finally, when el Bola murmurs that he hates him, Mariano becomes enraged. Although his wife asks for help and demands that Mariano stop, he kicks el Bola without control. El Bola leaves his house and goes to Alfredo’s house, asking for protection. José promises to help him and tells him he will not leave him alone. José contacts “Laura” (Ana Wagener), a friend of his who works as social worker. Laura advises José, telling him that el Bola cannot stay at his place without his parents’ permission. She explains that Mariano could accuse

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him of kidnapping and it would be best is to contact el Bola and try to convince him to denounce his father’s abuses, making them public. Alfredo listens to his father’s conversation with Laura and asks el Bola to escape and meet him in a secret place. He promises el Bola that he will not tell anybody where he is, he will be loyal and he will protect him. José realizes that el Bola has left the house and calls Laura. Her advice is to call Mariano, tell him about his son, and go with her and Mariano to look for the boy. While walking alone on the streets of Madrid at midnight, el Bola is spotted by José and Alfredo. The two convince him to go to the police. The film finishes when el Bola finally finds the courage to share the story of his father’s abuse with the police. See also Barrio (Neighborhood) Bibliography “El Bola.” New York Times. 2002. http://www.nytimes.com/2002/12/13/movies/film-inreview-el-bola.html (October 12, 2015).

—María Adelaida Escobar Trujillo

EL BOSQUE ANIMADO (THE ENCHANTED FOREST) (1987) Director: José Luis Cuerda Screenplay: Rafael Azcona Specs: 105 minutes; color Based on Wenceslao Fernández Flórez’s eponymous novel and set in a small Galician town in the 1920s, El bosque animado is a rural comedy that explores the magical possibilities of the countryside. It deals with various intertwined stories revolving around a magical forest where animals, people, and plants coexist harmoniously. The film was nominated for eight Goya Awards and won five (Best Film, Best Screenplay, Best Lead Actor, Best Original Score, and Best Costume Design). It also won an honorable mention at the Festival de San Sebastián. With flair and a casual style, El bosque animado is made of a collection of interlocking tales that take place in the forest surrounding the town of Cecebre. The forest becomes a crossroads for a colorful series of picturesque characters: gentle “Geraldo” (Tito Valverde), a poor well-digger whose wooden leg makes him limp grotesquely; “Malvis” (Alfredo Landa), a would-be bandit who scares nobody; a lonely ghost; a beautiful, overworked maid; a witch; and some wealthy landowners. Adapting Fernández Flórez’s novel into a film was a challenge for Rafael Azcona. El bosque animado is not a very cinematic text, in the sense that it lacks a typical dramatic structure. The literary work is organized in brief tales (quasi-independent short stories) plagued by characters and subplots set in a common landscape (the forest and the town of Fraga de Cecebre). It has many lyrical, mysterious, and legendary elements; the animals and the trees are characters often belonging to the same category as the human beings who inhabit the forest. Everything is wrapped into a magical halo, which is very literary, and that

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in its unreality (in its fantasy) seems more appropriate to the realm of literature than to the realism of the cinematic image. The adaptation posed, therefore, serious challenges, especially how to connect, relate, and thread elements of a very dissimilar nature—elements whose main connection rested on its literary and geographical landscape. Azcona thus focused on the human characters and their stories, keeping the dramatic atmosphere of the forest, but using it rather as a background. The film is constructed around what we could call two main storylines: one that depicts Geraldo’s unrequited love for “Hermelinda,” and another that portrays the adventures of “Fesdetestas,” who lives hidden in the forest and is perhaps its most emblematic character. The rest of the novel’s stories and personages build the subplots of the film scripts: the story of “Marica da Fame”; the childhood world of “Fuco”; the dramatic history of “Pilara”; the esoteric quality of the witch, “la Moucha”; the urban and bourgeois life of the ”D’Abondo” family; the ghost of “Fiz de Cotovelo”; and so forth. They all gain relevance as the film progresses and ends by taking possession of the cinematic narrative. El bosque animado belongs to a tradition of rural cinema that achieved its highest point during the 1970s and 1980s, with filmmakers such as José Luis Borau and Manuel Gutiérrez Aragón, and that had in Los santos inocentes (Mario Camus, 1984) its most outstanding example. The success of El bosque animado allowed Cuerda to leave TVE (Spanish Public Television) and to direct Amanece que no es poco (1988), his most personal film, where he displays his personal sense of humor for the first time. These two titles celebrated the enduring character of the Spanish peasant: his passions, superstitions, strengths, and weaknesses; but they also marked the end of an era. From then on, most of Spanish cinema would be set in urban landscapes and the countryside would recede into the background. See also Así en el cielo como en la tierra (On Earth as It Is in Heaven); Las educación de las hadas (The Education of Fairies); Los girasoles ciegos (The Blind Sunflowers); La lengua de las mariposas (Butterfly’s Tongue); La marrana (The Sow) Bibliography Méndez-Leite, Fernando. El cine de José Luis Cuerda. Málaga: Ayuntamiento de Málaga, 2002. Ubeda-Portugués, Alberto. José Luis Cuerda: ética de un corredor de fondo. Madrid: SGAE, 2001.

—Santiago Juan-Navarro

LAS BRUJAS DE ZUGARRAMURDI (WITCHING & BITCHING) (2013) Director: Álex de la Iglesia Screenplay: Jorge Guerricaechevarría and Álex de la Iglesia Specs: 112 minutes; color Las brujas de Zugarramurdi is a 2013 film directed by Álex de la Iglesia. Part comedy, part horror film, it is a modern-day telling of events inspired by the

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Hugo Silva. IFC Midnight / Photofest © IFC Midnight

witch trials that took place in the Basque Country during the first decade of the 17th century. This persecution represents the most ambitious attempt at eradicating alleged cases of witchcraft and pagan worshipping ever undertaken by the Spanish Inquisition. These investigations started at Logroño, near the Kingdom of Navarre, in northern Spain, in January of 1609 as a result of the arrival of some inquisitors from France, who had conducted the same kind of research in the province of Labourd under the leadership of Pierre de Lancre. In this series of questioning, around 7,000 individuals were examined and interrogated by the religious authorities. When the first phase of interrogations ended in 1610, 31 people were accused of heresy and demonolatry and an auto-da-fé was organized to punish those found guilty. However, out of all these neighbors charged with crimes of faith, only 11 or 12 were burned to death, and out of this dozen of guilty criminals, five had already passed away in prison, so an effigy made of wax was thrown to the fire instead of their bodies. The rest of the proceedings were suspended and the prisoners were freed. The film begins with the robbery of a pawnshop by two thieves—“Tony” (Mario Casas) and “José” (Hugo Silva)—disguised as a green plastic soldier and Jesus Christ. The former is not happy because the latter has brought his son, “Sergio” (Gabriel Delgado), along on the heist and even less happy because he is getting him involved in the crime. The execution initially seems to go as planned, as the robbers manage to collect a large bag full of gold rings and jewelry. During their escape, Tony and José hijack a taxi and stow its unwilling passenger in the trunk, after forcing the driver, “Manuel” (Jaime Ordóñez), to take them to the French border with Spain. The group is chased by Sergio’s mother and José’s ex-wife, “Silvia” (Macarena Gómez), and two police officers, “Pacheco” (Secun de la Rosa) and “Calvo” (Pepón Nieto). On their way to France, the thieves and company reach the Navarrese historical town of Zugarramurdi, in which the infamous events of the 17th century were thought to have taken place. In Zugarramurdi, they meet a sect of cannibalistic witches led by “Graciana” (Carmen Maura), her mother, “Maritxu” (Terele

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Pávez), the alluring “Eva” (Carolina Bang), and her then-imprisoned brother, “Luismi” (Javier Botet). The often bizarre, and at times ridiculous, storyline features the attempts of Tony and José to escape the witchcraft-laden world of Zugarramurdi. Along the way they manage to rescue Eva and Luismi from Maritxu and the others, making for a fairy-tale ending of sorts for José and Eva, raising Sergio as their son. The film received great reviews by the experts, earning an unprecedented number of nominations, including the following: •  Best Cinematography (Kiko de la Rica), Best Editing (Pablo Blanco), and Best Score (Joan Valent) at the Cinema Writers Circle Awards in Spain in 2014 •  Best Supporting Actor (Jaime Ordóñez), Best Supporting Actress (Carmen Maura and Terele Pávez), Best Duo (Mario Casas and Hugo Silva), Best Art Direction (José Luis Arrizabalaga Biaffra), Best Makeup (Sonia de la Fuente and Paco Rodríguez Frías), and Best Ensemble at the CinEuphoria Awards in 2014 •  Best Foreign-Language Film at the Fangoria Chainsaw Awards in 2015 •  Best Film at Fantasporto in 2014 •  Best Actor (Hugo Silva), Best Original Score, Best Trailer (Miguel Ángel Prieto), Best Director, and Best Film-Comedy (Enrique Cerezo) at the Feroz Awards, ES, in 2014 •  Best Movie Actor (Mario Casas) at the Fotogramas de Plata in 2014 •  Best Special Effects and Best Score at the Fright Meter Awards in 2014 •  Best Original Score and Best Cinematography at the Goya Awards in 2014 •  Best Picture (Álex de la Iglesia, Enrique Cerezo Producciones Cinematográficas S.A. and La Ferme! Productions) at the José María Forqué Awards in 2014 •  Best Costume Design (Paco Delgado), Best Sound (Carlos Schmukler and Nicolas de Poulpiquet), and Best Editing at the Fénix Film Awards in 2014. •  Best Original Music at the Platino Awards for Iberoamerican Cinema in 2014 Of these recognitions and nominations, Las brujas de Zugarramurdi won several awards, including the following: •  The International Competition and Best Film at the Brussels International Festival of Fantasy Film in 2014 •   Best Supporting Actress (Terele Pávez) at the Cinema Writers Circle Awards in Spain in 2014 •  Best Director and Best Special Effects (Juan Ramón Molina) at the Fantasporto in 2014 •  Best Actor in a Supporting Role (Mario Casas) and Best Actress in a Supporting Role (Terele Pávez) at the Feroz Awards, ES, in 2014 •  Audience Award for Best Spanish Film at the Fotogramas de Plata in 2014 •  Best Supporting Actress (Terele Pávez), Best Production Manager (Carlos Bernases), Best Sound, Best Costume, Best Special Effects, Best Editing,

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Best Production Design, and Best Makeup and Hairstyles at the Goya Awards in 2014 •  Best Art Direction and Best Music at the Fénix Film Awards in 2014 See also Acción mutante (Mutant Action); El día de la bestia (The Day of the Beast); Álex de la Iglesia (Appendix A) Bibliography Henningsen, Gustav. The Witches’ Advocate: Basque Witchcraft and the Spanish Inquisition. Reno: University of Nevada Press, 1980. Purkiss, Diane. The Witch in History: Early Modern and Twentieth-Century Representations. London: Routledge, 1996.

—Jorge Abril Sánchez

•  C • EL CABALLERO DON QUIJOTE (DON QUIXOTE, KNIGHT ERRANT) (2002) Director: Manuel Gutiérrez Aragón Screenplay: Manuel Gutiérrez Aragón, based on the novel by Miguel de Cervantes Specs: 122 minutes; color El caballero Don Quijote was directed by Manuel Gutiérrez Aragón. The film tells the story of the adventures of Don Quixote and Sancho Panza during their third military sally. The film won the Best Photography award at the Premios Goya 2003. The film is an adaptation of the second part of the classical Spanish novel known as El Ingenioso Hidalgo Don Quijote de la Mancha, or in English by its full title The Ingenious Gentleman Don Quixote of La Mancha, written in 1615 by Miguel de Cervantes. This second part operates on the metafictional literary device in which the characters involved are self-consciously aware of the storyline as an artifact of the very work they are being presented in. In this way, there is an underlying convention that maintains that a number of the characters have read the first part of their own history and some of whom have also read the very story that is being acted out. The second part is thus considered superior to the

Carlos Iglesias and Juan Luis Galiardo. Alta Classics / Photofest © Alta Classics

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first one, particularly for its use of the metafiction, an extremely original innovation of its time. The plot of the film revolves around the adventures that “Don Quixote” (Juan Luis Galiardo) and “Sancho Panza” (Carlos Iglesias) experience during their third military sally. After returning home from his second tour of duty, Don Quixote sleeps for several days. Upon awaking, Quixote is surrounded by friends and family, inclusive of his niece (María Isasi), his friend the Graduate “Sansón Carrasco” (Santigo Ramos), his barber (Víctor Clavijo), a priest (José Luis Torrijo), and the housekeeper (Kiti Mánver). The group of friends and family talk to Don Quixote, assessing his mental state, and conclude that he is, in contrast to his previous states, indeed sane. Don Quixote talks with his friends about the current events in the kingdom, and they explain to him that the Turks have sent a fleet to Spain, prompting the king to order reinforcements of the military bases along its coast. Don Quixote responds by suggesting that all errant knights of the kingdom gather in defense of Spain, as just few of them would be able to defeat a thousand-soldier army. For those gathered around Don Quixote, this rant of grandeur reveals that nothing had actually changed in his mind and that he wholeheartedly intends to leave the village for more wild adventures. With little time to waste, the next day Don Quixote and Sancho Panza leave the town again. That evening, Don Quixote orders Sancho to go to the town named “El Toboso” and find “Dulcinea”—a woman of incredible beauty, entirely concocted in Don Quixote’s imagination. Nonetheless, Don Quixote seeks Dulcinea’s love and attention, believing the undertaking of his new adventures requires her blessings. As Sancho knows he won’t be able to find her, he postpones the trip until the following day. While riding the next day, Sancho encounters three peasant women and sees the opportunity to avoid the unnecessary trip to El Toboso—informing Don Quixote that he has seen Dulcinea accompanied by two others. Approaching the women, Don Quixote initially believes he’s only seeing peasant women, but Sancho takes control of the situation and somehow convinces Don Quixote that he is in fact looking at the beauty of Dulcinea. Convinced, but not satisfied, Don Quixote believes then that a harmful magician has bewitched his Dulcinea, and for this reason she appears so unflattering and smelling of garlic. From that moment, Don Quixote decides he will devote all his time to releasing Dulcinea from her spell. Entering a cave where he thinks the magician “Montesinos” (Manuel Alexandre) lives, Don Quixote engages in an imaginary discussion with Montesinos and other famous literary knights, even “seeing” Dulcinea and reinforcing his mission to release her from her spell. Sometime after, Don Quixote and Sancho encounter a duke (Joaquín Hinojosa) and his wife (Emma Suárez), who are hunting with their entourage in a forest. The duke and duchess know of Don Quixote, as they have “read” the first part of the novel, and recognize both Don Quixote and Sancho in all of their antics. The duke, rife with deceptive motives, decides to have fun at the expense of Don Quixote and Sancho and invites them to spend some time together. The duke prepares different theatrical performances, inclusive of an encounter with the Magician “Merlin” and another with a fake Dulcinea that begs Don Quixote to release her from her spell. The duke even rewards Sancho for serving Don

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Quixote with an “isle”—an honor always promised to Sancho but never actually executed by Quixote himself. Indeed, through this honor Sancho is moved to the duke’s castle, where he is appointed governor. The next day, however, noticing how everybody is having fun at his expense, Sancho decides to leave the castle and rejoin Don Quixote. Traveling together again, Don Quixote and Sancho happen upon a man (Enrique Navarro) in their path who has also “read” not only the first part of the novel but the second part as well. The daughter of this man explains that in the second novel Don Quixote stops loving Dulcinea and is locked up in a lunatic asylum. The man also claims to have seen Don Quixote himself in Toledo’s mental hospital. The “real” Don Quixote decides to look for the fake Don Quixote and moves to Toledo, where he visits this lunatic asylum. Upon inquiring about his fake, a staff member of this asylum explains to Don Quixote that this other individual is no longer there anymore and that he had mentioned his intention to move to Barcelona. Don Quixote then decides to look for his “other” in Barcelona. Meanwhile, Don Quixote’s friends search for him, seeking to convince him to return home. On a beach in Barcelona, Don Quixote meets a foe named “the Knight of the White Moon,” who is, in actuality, his friend the Graduate Sansón Carrasco in disguise. This knight challenges Don Quixote to a duel that results in Quixote’s defeat—a defeat that, according to rules of chivalry, comes with a sentence that mandates Don Quixote to return to his village for the entirety of a year. Don Quixote, tired and weakened, arrives home and lies on his bed in respite. He receives a visit from his friends and tells them he has recovered his lucidity, announcing that he is no longer Don Quixote but instead Alonso Quijano. For the now Quijano, his announcement reconciles his wish to die as a sane person, not as the fool, Quixote. Despite the omission and of several scenes from the book, the film adheres to much of the same tenor as its written literary companion. In particular, as the film script incorporates the same medieval Spanish as the book, the dialogue of the movie maintains the language used by Cervantes. See also Don Quijote de Orson Welles (Orson Welles’ Don Quixote); Honor de cavalleria (Honor of the Knights/Quixotic) —Alex Pinar

CAMINO (CAMINO) (2008) Director: Javier Fesser Screenplay: Javier Fesser Specs: 143 minutes; color Directed by Javier Fesser and inspired by real events, Camino (2008) is a drama about the last months in the life of “Camino” (Nerea Camacho), a teenager from a religious family who is dying from terminal cancer. The film was controversial but very successful when it was released. It received multiple awards, such as the

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Nerea Camacho. Warner Sogefilms S.A. / Photofest © Warner Sogefilms S.A.

Goya for Best Film, Best Director, Best Screenplay, Best Lead Actress, and Best Breakthrough Actress, among others. Camino can be considered one of the most important works of its director partly because it constitutes a rarity in his career. Fesser’s filmography mainly consists of comedies and short films characterized by an absurd, chaotic humor that relies strongly on visual slapstick gags. Fesser’s style explores all the resources of cinema to create an excessive, chaotic, and spectacular aesthetic, resulting in a fast-paced comedic expression in which multiple occurrences unfold simultaneously. Rapid editing, sound effects, expressive music, and colorful cinematography constitute some of his signature choices. Even though Camino incorporates some of these resources, it differs greatly from his previous works since it belongs to the genre of drama and deals with a rather realistic topic. Camino is, in fact, loosely inspired by the story of Alexia González-Barrios, a religious teenager who died of terminal spine cancer and whose family members were Opus Dei devotees. Her family and friends praised her brave and faithfully religious demeanor as she faced disease, pain, and death. Fesser’s version differs from the testimonials of Alexia’s family, as in his production, the religious institution exploits the girl’s situation and profited from her suffering. Nonetheless, it is important to note that Fesser never actually presented his film as a biography of Alexia, but rather Alexia as an inspiration for this film. The film starts with the everyday life of Camino, a bright student with an adorable personality, full of joy and excitement for life. Camino loves her family dearly and has a very close relationship with her mother, who is depicted as manipulative and alienated by religious fanaticism. The family is actively involved in the activities of the Opus Dei, especially Camino’s sister, an acolyte living in virtual monasticism at a religious home apart from her family. The father

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figure is mostly absent in the film, often busy with work, leaving the family responsibilities to the mother. It is the mother who conveys the religious values to Camino in often manipulative ways. However, Camino experiences faith positively for most of the story. Yet her happy life soon changes as she starts experiencing repeated pains, soon learning that she’s terminally ill with cancer. Camino wants to experience a normal life with her friends. She falls in love with “Jesús” (Lucas Manzano), a boy she meets at a theater company. She soon aspires to join the company to participate in a performance of Cinderella with Jesús, who seems to also like her. However, her disease and her mother’s rigid dictates interfere with her plans to join the play. Gradually losing her strength, Camino and her dreams simultaneously fade away—unable to leave the hospital and eventually moved to a special facility out of town. Her cancer challenges the faith of the entire family, especially that of her mother, who tries to approach her daughter’s suffering as an offering to God and as a challenge from Jesus Christ. In this process, Camino also tries to remain strong, but her faith is often tested as she considers her situation unfair and questions her religious foundations. These moments of crisis disrupt the family and bring light to the manipulation of the Opus Dei, mainly embodied by the mother figure. Eventually, as her mental clarity deteriorates, Camino experiences her religious love for Jesus and her romantic idealization of Jesús simultaneously, blending them in her mind as part of the same fantasy, which leads her family members to think her religious faith is impeccable in the face of adversity. In the end, the film shows how Camino and her family struggle with her cancer and rely on faith to cope with the emotional pain. With this film, which is entirely dedicated to Alexia, Fesser aims to give voice to Camino, honor her legacy, and showcase her experience. As a result, the film presents the narrative through the eyes of the girl, incorporating elements of fantasy, illusion, and adolescent excitement. Dreams, nightmares, and reality blend, allowing Fesser to use some of his stylistic elements such as expressive music, parallel editing, spectacular visual effects, and colorful cinematography. This approach to the narrative presents the story through the naïve point of view of Camino to evoke a strong emotional response in the audience, which sometimes results in a sensational portrayal of the events. In this sense, the film operates in the juxtaposition of elements such as reality and fantasy, science and religion, romantic love and spiritual love, purity and manipulation. The narrative unfolds as the main characters navigate these contradictions and struggle with their own feelings. As a result of this approach, the film also combines realism and fantasy in terms of style, which is perhaps one of the reasons that made for such a controversial release. The film depicts Opus Dei as a manipulative institution that brainwashes the family. As the story is told from the viewpoint of Camino, it becomes challenging to discern whether the strong emotional style is motivated by her perspective or by Fesser’s open critique of the institution. In all fairness, Fesser made it clear that the film was a fictional story with no aspirations of portraying reality, even though he strongly criticized Opus Dei after the film was released. In addition, the family of Alexia reacted negatively to the film, arguing that the institution had not exploited Alexia, as the film implies.

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Regardless of the controversy about the authenticity of the story—implied or otherwise—as a fictional film Camino constitutes a spectacular piece that allows the audience to strongly connect with the story through a powerful use of cinematic techniques. The last scene epitomizes the dramatic nature of the story. In a sensational sequence, the tragic fate of Camino is conveyed as a “happily ever after” ending as her dementia allows her to blend reality with her own fantasy. In the last moments of her life, Camino eventually finds the happy ending she sought. —Cristina Ruiz-Poveda Vera

CANCIÓN DE CUNA (CRADLE SONG) (1994) Director: José Luis Garci Screenplay: José Luis Garci and Horacio Valcárcel, based on a play by Gregorio Martínez Sierra and María Lejárrage Specs: 101 minutes; color The 1994 film Canción de cuna, directed by José Luis Garci, tells the story of a community of late 19th-century Dominican nuns who decide to adopt a baby girl abandoned at their convent. It won five Premios Goyas, including Best Cinematography (Manuel Rojas) and Best Costume Design (Yvonne Blake), and two awards from the Círculo de Escritores Cinematográficos: Best Picture and Best Actress (Florella Faltoyano). The film also received the Grand Jury Prize, and Garci was named Best Director at the Montreal International Film Festival. The film is an adaptation of Gregorio Martínez Sierra’s popular 1911 stage play. The original script signed by Martínez Sierra, but now attributed to his wife María Lejárrage, was adapted for the screen four times prior to the Garci version: Mitchell Liesen (United States, 1933), Gregorio Martínez Sierra (Argentina, 1941), Fernándo de Fuentes (Mexico, 1953), and José María Elorrieta (Spain, 1961). Considered among the husband-and-wife team’s best works, the play was enormously popular and considered innovative for the way in which it emphasizes sentiment over action, and treats female religiosity as maternal and human rather than mystical. Another notable feature is the use of a collective of protagonists; the frustrations and repressed desires of unmarried women are explored in the choruslike voices of the nuns. Like the Martínez Sierra play, Garci’s film is minimalist in structure and story: the symmetrical two acts are transposed to the screen in a plotline bookended by the arrival of the foundling “Teresa” (Maribel Verdú) and her departure 18 years later. The film opens with a long credit sequence that establishes the bucolic convent setting and introduces the community as they start their daily routine. The opening scenes, which correspond to the first act of the play, take place over the course of a single day: the Feast of Saint Teresa (March 3). The nuns gather to honor the abbess “Madre Teresa” (Fiorella Faltoyano) on her saint’s day with gifts and reading of poetry written by “Madre Juana de la Cruz” (Diana Peñalver), and disperse into a series of alternative scenes featuring intimate conversations among the nuns and between “Don José” (Alfredo Landa), the local doctor who by virtue of his profession is the only man allowed to enter

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the convent, and Madre Teresa. These exchanges function to present the film’s main themes: motherhood, spirituality, and intellectual versus physical freedom. The arrival of the baby and the decision to allow her stay in the convent after convincing the strict “Maestra de Novicias” (Virgina Mataix) by appealing to her repressed maternal instincts closes the first part. The poetic interlude that bridges the first and second acts of the play is transcribed in a no less lyrical scene of “Madre Tornera” (María Luisa Ponte) humming and then singing the cradle song, which serves as the musical leitmotif of the entire film. The interlude segues via the sound bridge to the second part that begins 18 years later with the now-grown-up Teresa making plans to marry “Pablo” (Carmelo Gómez) and sail away with him to start a new life in Cuba. “Sor Marcela” (Amparo Larrañaga) has replaced Madre Teresa as prioress but leads the community of nuns with the same degree of benevolent kindness. Theatrical conventions dominate in the staging of successive scenes: the nuns prepare for Teresa’s wedding and imminent departure, and contemplate the fate of the young girl as a married woman in comparison to their contemplative lifestyle in their dialogue. The temporal structure of the opening sequence is replicated in the denouement that unfolds over the course of the last 24 hours Teresa spends with her “mothers” in the convent. The scene of Pablo’s arrival in the company of Don José to retrieve his bride and Teresa’s evocative farewell to the sisters overflow with sentimentality as the chords of the cradle song play faintly in the background. The emotional disruption dissipates in the following scene as “Madre Vicaria” (Maria Massip) seeks to restore order to the order by scolding them for the note of melancholy that seems to have affected their daily prayer recitations. Before fading to black, the camera fixes on a tiny birdcage with door ajar and then pans up to an oval iron-barred window through which Teresa and Pablo can be seen riding off. With Canción de cuna, Garci claims to have set out to make “a sentimental western.” Emotion and feeling are the primary plot points that guide the viewer through the complex exploration of divine and human love evoked in the constrained dialogue taken directly from the original play. Indeed, little happens in the film, yet this is precisely the intention of both the playwrights and the filmmaker. The production is meticulously crafted: lighting, mise-en-scène, sound, and costume re-create Martínez Sierra’s modernist aesthetic, and at the same time they function to present a realistic portrait of monastic life stripped of the heavy-handed ideological flourishes of religious films or “hagiopics” of Francoera cinema. The cinematic elements make the film unashamedly cursi (affected), but in the spirit of the original play the notion remains ambiguous as both the affirmation and negation of excessive sentimentality. See also José Luis Garci (Appendix A) Bibliography Caparrós, Lera J. M. El cine de nuestros días (1994–1998). Madrid: Ediciones Rialp, 1999. Valis, Noel. The Culture of Cursilería: Bad Taste, Kitsch, and Class in Modern Spain. Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2002.

—David R. George Jr.

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CANÍBAL (CANNIBAL) (2013) Director: Manuel Martín Cuenca Screenplay: Manuel Martín Cuenca and Alejandro Hernández, based on a novel by Humberto Arenal Specs: 116 minutes; color Caníbal is a 2013 film directed by Manuel Martín Cuenca. The film tells the story of “Carlos” (Antonio de la Torre), the most prestigious tailor in Granada, who is also a cannibal. His meticulously ordered life begins to unravel when he falls in love with “Nina” (Olimpia Melinte). The film won the Best Cinematography award at the 2014 Premios Goya. An anthropophagic love story, Caníbal is a stark film that employs silence and ellipses to evoke a somber mood. A mirror of the protagonist’s devout asceticism and peculiar psychology, the film’s aesthetics simultaneously elicit the austerity imposed on Spain during the economic crisis and the social relations it produced. The plot of the film revolves around Carlos’s relationship with Nina and “Alexandra” (also played by Melinte), two troubled sisters who threaten to disrupt his emotional equilibrium and reveal his secret behavior while he assists with Holy Week preparations. The film opens with a long shot of a man and a woman at a gas station at night. When the couple enters a car and drives away, we realize we’ve been observing the scene from Carlos’s point of view, which is that of a patient hunter. After running the car off the road, Carlos lifts the woman’s body from the wreckage and takes it to his isolated cabin in the snow-covered Sierra Nevada mountains. With the ritual of a religious service, Carlos lays her on a table and selects the tool with which he will cut into her naked body. All we see of the procedure is a stream of blood running alongside her corpse before falling into a metal container. Back in Granada, Carlos spends his days working alone at his small but upscale tailor shop located footsteps away from his apartment. At night, Carlos dines in solitude on a cut of meat selected from his well-stocked refrigerator and a glass of red wine before working from home in dim light. This monastic regularity is disrupted when Alexandra moves into Carlos’s apartment complex. Provoked by her beauty, Carlos is captivated as much by Alexandra’s provocative personality as by the fleeting glimpses of her precarious private life he catches from his apartment window, including heated arguments with her boyfriend “Bogdon” (Florin Fildan). A massage therapist from Romania who offers her services from home, Alexandra makes several advances toward Carlos, who refuses them until she disappears during a visit to his apartment in the film’s most dramatic use of ellipsis. Charged with preparing a copy of a sacred fabric to be used in the upcoming Holy Week procession, Carlos works with “Aurora” (María Alfonso Rosso) to complete the project on time. An older woman who doubles as a maternal figure, Aurora tells Carlos that he’ll never find a woman, a comment that bothers him. Shortly after Alexandra’s disappearance, Nina—who bears a striking resemblance to her missing sister—shows up at the apartment complex. Looking for information about her missing sister, Nina knocks on Carlos’s door. Carlos lies to Nina about Alexandra’s fate, while falling for her innocence and vulnerability.

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In contrast to Alexandra’s seductive ways, Nina is the embodiment of purity, and Carlos responds by accompanying her to the police station to file a missing person report and by giving her €3,000, a sum Alexandra stole from their parents, who are at risk of losing their apartment in Romania. Seeking to repay her debt, Nina offers Carlos a massage. After at first refusing, Carlos accepts her invitation. However, when she begins, Carlos leaps from the massage table and flees. He drives to the beach, where he watches a couple frolicking in the water. After killing the man, he stalks the woman from the sand until she drowns. Shortly thereafter, Carlos and Nina discuss the massage and Nina tells Carlos that he’s damaged. Alexandra’s violent boyfriend returns, claiming that Nina killed Alexandra for the €3,000. To protect Nina, Carlos lets her stay at his apartment before inviting her to his mountain cabin. While there, Carlos attempts to kill her but cannot go through with it. The next morning, Carlos confesses that he killed Alexandra and ate her, and that he tried to do the same to her the night before, but was unable. Nina doesn’t believe him. On their return to Granada, Nina grabs the steering wheel, deliberately causing an accident that results in her death, leaving Carlos heartbroken. The film concludes with Carlos observing the Holy Week procession that includes the copy of the sacred fabric he helped stitch together. See also Las brujas de Zugarramurdi (Witching & Bitching); Las horas del día (The Hours of the Day) —Scott Boehm

CARACREMADA (CARACREMADA) (2010) Director: Lluís Galter Screenplay: Lluís Galter Specs: 98 minutes; color Caracremada, the first film directed by Lluís Galter, premiered at the Orizzonti competitive section of the 67th Mostra de Venecia (Venice International Film Festival). Caracremada (Burnface, in English), a nickname given by the Civil Guard to anarchist Ramon Vila Capdevila, represents the armed resistance against Franco’s regime in the form of the last active guerrilla fighter in Catalonia. In 1951 the Confederación Nacional del Trabajo anarchist trade union ordered the retreat of its militants; however, “Caracremada” (Lluís Soler) remained in the woods of inland Catalonia, where he restarted the fight, operating on his own. Caracremada moves away from the epic vision that cinema has traditionally offered of anti-Francoist guerrilla (or “Maquis”) during the dictatorship, where fighters are portrayed as bandits and criminals, and also in democratic Spain, where fighters are victims and survivors. While cinema has since the 1950s chosen genres like the epic, the thriller, the action-adventure, as well as the film noir and the historical drama for the depiction of the guerrilla, Galter offers a new gaze through a precise, carefully crafted, and radical style: extreme close-ups, long and slowed-down shots, austere mise-en-scène, quiet natural landscapes, and an extremely slow pace. Through these elements, Caracremada

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Lluís Soler. © Photofest

embraces a type of representation close to 19th-century literary realism that attempts to represent familiar things and everyday, banal activities, emphasizing the sordid. Caracremada’s protagonist, who lives in permanent tension with the world, has been inspired by Albert Camus’s interpretation of Sisyphus, a figure of Greek mythology who was condemned to repeat forever the same meaningless task of pushing a boulder up a mountain, only to see it roll down again. In the essay The Myth of Sisyphus, Camus compares the senselessness of man’s life with Sisyphus, introducing his philosophy of the absurd: man’s futile search for unity, clarity, and meaning in the face of an unintelligible world devoid of eternal truths and values and God. Armed resistance against Francoism turned out to be an equally futile enterprise, which is represented in the movie through Caracremada’s daily life, the trivial actions that filled his days and allowed him to survive, the few objects that he carried with him, and the scarcity and wilderness that surrounded the fighter, leaving aside heroic and adventure-like shootings, persecutions, and killings. In Caracremada, the abnormally slow pace, the acute silence that is the consequence of a lack of dialogue, and the absolute solitude that surrounds the protagonist during the 10 years that he spends in the forest may remind us of the Spanish literary traditions of mysticism. As a result, and somewhat paradoxically, the extreme realism of the movie brings us close to the experience of the sublime. However, Caracremada does not aim at constructing myths or heroes: in one of the first scenes, the protagonist steals a slice of bread from one of his comrades, showing how survival has turned into the primary moral code; he is also helplessly imprisoned by the Civil Guard at the end of the film. Caracremada is not conducive to any conclusion: the final judgment on the protagonist remains open. Caracremada depicts a man who adheres to his political ideals until his death, while at the same time, it shows the blind and relentless obsession

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that guides his sabotage operations, in which he obsessively cuts high-voltage towers with a chainsaw. It is an invitation to develop a new gaze on the antiFrancoist guerrilla, free of traditional conventions of representation, that makes this movie an excellent representation of the Spanish Civil War. See also Libertarias (Freedom Fighters) Bibliography Camus, Albert. The Myth of Sisyphus. Translated by Justin O’Brien. New York: Vintage, 1983.

—Carmen Moreno-Nuño

CARMINA O REVIENTA (CARMINA OR BLOW UP) (2012) Director: Paco León Screenplay: Paco León Specs: 70 minutes; color Carmina o revienta was Paco León’s directorial debut in 2012, as well as the first film ever made in Spain that was released in theaters, on the Internet, and through digital copy simultaneously. The film features the story of “Carmina” (Carmina Barrios), a middle-aged woman living in a popular neighborhood of Seville. Characterized by its documentary-like style in which Carmina and other

Paco Casaus and Carmina Barrios. © Photofest

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characters speak directly into the camera as if they were being interviewed, the film engenders a personable feel and invites viewers to be a part of its development. Beginning and ending in the present, the film, however, is divided into four temporal segments: “a month before,” “a week ago,” “two days ago,” and “today.” The film showcases how people with limited resources have had to creatively innovate to survive after the 2007 financial crisis. Additionally, the title seems to make reference to another film, El Lute: Camina o Revienta (1987), based on the 1977 biography of El Lute, a well-known thief from the late Francoist era. His biography largely portrayed his exploits as a consequence of Spain’s social circumstances of the time. The film opens in the present with Carmina telling audiences about herself and the theft a month prior at the bar she owns. To her dismay, the incident was not covered by the insurance company due to technicalities found in the evidence, in which there were no signs of the lock being picked or forced open. She is very distraught because, although she pays her insurance promptly, she now has to cover this loss—an expensive supply of Spanish cured ham. Carmina conceives a plan to cover her loss: buying a big lot of Spanish cured ham and selling it in her bar during Christmas. At this point, “María” (María León) introduces herself and talks about her life situation. María, Carmina’s daughter, is a 22-year-old single mother with no education, no job, and no income, working in the family’s bar. In the next segment, “a week before” the film’s opening scene, Carmina’s car is stolen. On her way to the police station to report the theft, Carmina and María spot their car on the road. She asks the taxi driver transporting them to follow it and, after a while, the car stops. Carmina manages to get the thieves out and get her car back. Yet in a display of further misfortune, as María takes the car to a garage for repairs, she crashes into another car. Carmina quickly arrives and tells the onlookers that she was the one driving, not María, and that she has suffered neck injuries, forcing the other driver to give her €500 to avoid going to court. In the next segment, “two days before the beginning of the film,” Carmina receives a visit from a collections agent named “El cobrador del frac,” demanding she pay for the cigarettes that were stolen from her bar months before the cured ham robbery. Carmina convinces him that she will pay him as soon as she has money, provided he does not tell her husband, “Antonio” (Paco Casaus), anything. After he leaves, Carmina calls the cured ham distributor to tell him to deliver the hams to a different address. Antonio introduces himself and talks about his relation to Carmina and his love for flamenco music. In the final segment, “the present time,” the bar opens while Carmina is storing the hams in a secluded location. While everyone is having fun during the celebration of a First Communion party at the bar, Carmina finishes sanding down the bars on the window to make it appear like another robbery attempt. After this she returns to the party and takes the now completely drunk Antonio home. The next morning, she receives a call telling her that her bar has been robbed. Carmina arrives at the scene and the insurance agent informs her that she is covered for the theft of all the hams she had delivered there the previous day. Bizarre in many respects, Carmina o revienta is an alluring film

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that coerces audiences to watch one more segment, and indeed, remain puzzled by its purpose. See also Carmina y amén (Carmina and Amen) —Luis Guadaño

CARMINA Y AMÉN (CARMINA AND AMEN) (2014) Director: Paco León Screenplay: Paco León Specs: 100 minutes; color Carmina y amén is the second film written and directed by Paco León and is the sequel to Carmina o revienta, featuring “Carmina” (Carmina Barrios, León’s mother in real life) as the leading character. While not following the documentary style that characterized Carmina o revienta, this film shows several stylistic similarities with its predecessor. The film won the Best Supporting Actress (Yolanda Ramos) and Best Script (Paco León) awards at the 2014 Festival de Málaga in Spain. It also won the Best Film and Best Actress (Carmina Barrios) awards at the 12th Montecarlo Comedy Film Festival (2015). The movie begins with a short introduction before the title credits, as a preface of the upcoming events: Carmina’s husband, “Antonio” (Paco Casaus), arrives home with chest pains. Carmina prepares dinner and yells at Antonio to

Carmina Barrios and MarÍa León. © Photofest

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let him know that dinner is ready, but Antonio does not respond. Carmina realizes he is dead. She calls her daughter, “María” (María León, León’s sister in real life), to tell her that her father is very ill and she needs to come home immediately. María arrives to discover that Antonio’s death is the result of Carmina giving him a different treatment for his illness than what he received from the hospital during an earlier visit. As María attempts to call emergency 112 to report the death, Carmina intervenes, asking her to hang up because it is a Saturday and they are expecting to get Antonio’s extra pay on Monday. That night, Carmina formulates a plan to cover up Antonio’s death for the next two days. Carmina moves Antonio’s body into an armchair in the living room, beginning a conversation with him. A couple of neighbors show up at their home, compromising her cover-up, but she manages to get rid of them without foiling her plans. A close friend then arrives and sees Antonio sitting in the armchair, but Carmina convinces her that he is sleeping. The insurance representative also comes to the door to tell Carmina that they are late in their payments, and she pays him two months in advance, ridding her of this burden as well. Carmina realizes that Antonio’s body is beginning to smell terrible and decides to place him on the balcony covered with bags of ice. With Antonio on the balcony, Carmina allows friends to visit her on Sunday evening. The next morning, Carmina calls the police to inform them of Antonio’s death. After speaking with the coroner, Carmina dresses up and goes to a bar for a date with a Senegalese immigrant. Carmina tells him that she is a terminal cancer patient, revealing to audiences that all she has done was in preparation for arranging her own death. See also Carmina o revienta (Carmina or Blow Up) —Luis Guadaño

CARNE TRÉMULA (LIVE FLESH) (1997) Director: Pedro Almodóvar Screenplay: Pedro Almodóvar, Jorge Guerricaechevarría, and Ray Loriga, based on the novel by Ruth Rendell Specs: 101 minutes; color Carne trémula is a 1997 drama film directed by Pedro Almodóvar. It tells the story of five characters’ lives and how they interconnect through the years in intriguing and unusual ways. Adapted from a 1986 novel by British novelist Ruth Rendell, the film is Almodóvar’s 12th feature film, his first based on a source other than an original idea and his first collaboration with soon-to-be muse Penélope Cruz. Carne trémula won great acclaim from critics, even those who often decry the works of the famed director. It was also nominated for a BAFTA (British Academy of Film and Television) Award for Best Film Not in the English Language and won a Goya for Best Supporting Actor. The plot of the film begins in Madrid, 1970, during a state of emergency issued by the Franco government urging citizens to stay in their homes. During

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Javier Bardem and José Sancho. Goldwyn Distributing Company / Photofest © Goldwyn Distributing Company

the order, “Isabel” (Penélope Cruz), a young, very pregnant prostitute, goes into labor. With the help of her landlady (Pilar Bardem), they flag down a city bus returning to its station. After a heated argument, the driver agrees to take Isabel to the hospital. However, the baby comes too soon and must be delivered on the bus by the landlady. Víctor, the baby born on the bus, engenders a mild media sensation that results in both Isabel and her infant son being given lifelong bus passes. Twenty years later, an adult “Víctor” (Liberto Rabel), a delivery boy, tries to win a date with “Elena” (Francesca Neri), a drug addict he met the prior week. Elena is waiting for her drug dealer to arrive but instead hears from Víctor, who insists they go out on their planned date. Elena is cold toward Víctor and tells him to leave her alone. He manages to gain access to her apartment when she mistakenly buzzes him into the building. Once in her home, Elena pulls out a gun and threatens to kill Víctor if he does not leave. The gun accidentally goes off and the bullet ricochets around the room and grazes Elena’s head. Víctor lays Elena on the couch and waits for her to recover. Meanwhile, two police officers, “Sancho” (José Sancho) and “David” (Javier Bardem), are on duty in their squad car. Sancho is an alcoholic and finishes off a bottle of whiskey while on duty. He complains to his partner, David, that his wife is having an affair and that he beats her in an effort to keep her from leaving. David is disgusted by this admission but remains quiet. They receive a report of shots fired in an apartment complex and drive to the location, Elena’s apartment.

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Through the apartment’s window, the officers see what appears to be Elena fending off an attack by Víctor. Sancho, now drunk and enraged, races up the stairs with his gun unholstered. David attempts to calm his partner but to no avail. After Sancho breaks the door down, Víctor panics and grabs Elena, pointing the gun at her head. David attempts to negotiate with Víctor and free Elena. Once Elena is out of the apartment, Sancho attacks Víctor, attempting to grab the gun. Wrestling on the floor, Sancho and Víctor both hold onto the gun and it goes off, hitting David in his spine. Two years later, Víctor is serving time in prison and sees a news program praising David, now completely paralyzed from the waist down and a leading star in a wheelchair basketball league. The news announcer also talks about David’s beautiful and committed wife, Elena, who is now sober. This news angers Víctor and he dedicates the next four years to education and good behavior in order to be paroled. Once out of prison, Víctor discovers his mother has died and left him a ramshackle house and 150,000 pesetas. A few days after his release, Víctor visits his mother’s grave and sees another funeral procession on the other side of the cemetery. The service is for Elena’s father and Víctor sees the woman he once tried to woo and her new husband, David. As the funeral party walks past Elena giving their condolences, Víctor jumps in line and whispers to her, “I’m very sorry. I’m very close to you.” Shortly after the service, Víctor meets “Clara” (Ángela Molina), Sancho’s wife, and invites her to his house. She goes to his home; after seeing its condition, she leaves but promises to return. That evening, Elena tells David she saw Víctor at the funeral, much to her husband’s irritation. David learns where Víctor lives and goes to warn him to stay away from Elena. As David leaves, he sees Clara visiting Víctor and watches as the two prepare for sex. Víctor is very inexperienced in sex and has Clara agree to teach him how to become a passionate lover. He wants to learn how to make love in order to put a revenge plan into motion against Elena and David. Víctor learns Elena is a senior administrator at an orphanage and decides to volunteer as a handyman and caretaker for the children. The employees of the orphanage are impressed by Víctor’s multiple talents, but Elena is less than enthusiastic about Víctor’s presence. Nonetheless, Elena feels compelled to keep him employed because everyone else is pleased. David eventually discovers that Víctor works alongside his wife and becomes angry. He storms into Elena’s office and begins to make a scene just as Víctor arrives. The two fight, first verbally and then physically, resulting in David falling to the floor, unable to stand. With David incapacitated, Víctor explains to him that he is not responsible for the shooting. While he admits he held the gun, it was Sancho who pulled the trigger that resulted in David’s paralysis. Clara told Víctor that Sancho discovered she was sleeping with David and that firing the shot was the drunken officer’s revenge. As difficult as it is to believe, David appears to really consider the possibility that his past indiscretions are somehow responsible for his current condition. After leaving a stunned David, Víctor tells Elena his ridiculous plan he thought of to enact his revenge. He planned to seduce Elena and spend a night together having incredible, passionate sex and then, the next morning, leave her and never see her again. They both laugh at this, but Elena is clearly thinking things over in her mind. Shortly after this, Víctor tells Clara they need to end

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their relationship—news that devastates her. That night, Víctor is working the night shift at the orphanage when Elena arrives and tells him they should have sex. They spend the night together in an erotic pairing that rivals even the wildest ideas Víctor dreamed of in his revenge plot. The next day, Elena returns home and waits for her husband to return from a basketball tournament. When he arrives, she tells him she and Víctor slept together. David becomes furious and storms out of the house after calling Sancho. At the same time, Clara is packing her bags to leave her husband. Sancho confronts her and Clara shoots him in the stomach and then leaves. David arrives and shows his former partner photographic proof that Clara and Víctor were sleeping together. They both decide to drive over the Víctor’s house, which is where Clara also ran to after shooting her husband. Similar to the early sequence, Sancho storms into Víctor’s house and confronts Clara. After refusing to return home with her husband, he shoots her and then turns the gun on himself. David desperately tries to intervene but cannot reach them fast enough. About a year later, David, in a voice-over via a letter sent from Miami, apologizes to his ex-wife for everything that has happened between them. Elena is now nine months’ pregnant with Víctor’s child. As they are driving to the hospital, their car becomes stuck in heavy traffic and Víctor recalls his own birth in a parked bus. However, the traffic begins to move as he whispers to his unborn child that all is fine and that there is no more fear. See also Los abrazos rotos (Broken Embraces); Pedro Almodóvar (Appendix A); ¡Átame! (Tie Me Up! Tie Me Down!); Penélope Cruz (Appendix A); La flor de mi secreto (The Flower of My Secret); La ley del deseo (Law of Desire); Matador (Matador); La piel que habito (The Skin I Live In); ¿Qué he hecho yo para merecer esto? (What Have I Done to Deserve This?); Tacones lejanos (High Heels) Bibliography Edward, Gwynne. Almodóvar: Labyrinths of Passion. London: Peter Owen, 2001.

—Jonathan Clark

LAS CARTAS DE ALOU (LETTERS FROM ALOU) (1990) Director: Montxo Armendáriz Screenplay: Montxo Armendáriz Specs: 100 minutes; color Las cartas de Alou is a 1990 film written and directed by Montxo Armendáriz. The film tells the story of Alou, a Senegalese man who immigrates illegally to Spain, and his travels through the country looking for work, as told through the letters he sends home to his family. Las cartas de Alou is a scathing indictment of the exploitation of illegal immigrant labor in Spain, as the precarious financial and legal situation of many sub-Saharan African immigrants to Spain leads them to accept dangerous or demeaning jobs in exchange for little remuneration. The film won Goya awards for Best Cinematography (Alfredo F. Mayo) and Best

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Screenplay (Montxo Armendáriz) and the Concha de Oro at the 1990 San Sebastián Film Festival. The film opens with Alou and several other African migrants arriving in Spain on a raft from the North African coast. The weather is stormy, and one of the migrants falls overboard after a bout of nausea. The viewer watches “Alou” (Mulie Jarju) accustom himself to life in Spain working in the greenhouses in Almería, gathering vegetables, spraying pesticides, befriending other immigrants, and learning to speak Spanish. Before long, though, Alou decides he has earned enough money to travel to Barcelona in search of his friend “Mulai” (Akonio Dolo) and a job that Mulai has arranged for him. On his way to Barcelona, he suffers a robbery that leaves him broke and alone in Madrid. Through the kindness of another immigrant, he becomes a street merchant, learning how to survive the streets and avoid the police while earning enough to continue his journey to Barcelona. He suffers racist comments and microaggressions, and is forced to leave another of his jobs picking fruit in Segrià because of a conflict with his boss. Throughout Las cartas de Alou, the viewers are impressed by the survival strategies of immigrants in Spain: divvying jobs and food, imparting linguistic knowledge, sharing modes of diversion like games and fun, and supporting one another through good times and bad. If the film depicts the immigrant’s life as that of a transient nomad, the repetitions in the film (the letters to Alou’s family, the repeated crossing of the strait, the return to Segrià, and the cave he used to live in there, etc.) point to the workings of chance and the strength of relationships forged around survival. In the stories of all the immigrants that Alou crosses paths with, the migrant’s narrative is not that of one crossing but one of arrivals and returns, in a circular pattern of movement toward something that resembles life. See also Historias del Kronen (Stories from the Kronen); Tasio (Tasio) Bibliography Ballesteros, Isolina. “Screening African Immigration to Spain: Las cartas de Alou and Bwana.” Chasqui: revista de literature latinoamericana 34, no. 2 (2005): 48–61. Burkhardt, Diana Q. “The Disposable Immigrant: The Aesthetics of Waste in Las cartas de Alou.” Journal of Spanish Cultural Studies 11, no. 2 (2010): 153–65. Santaolalla, Isabel. Los “otros”: etnicidad y “raza” en el cine español contemporáneo. Zaragoza: Universidad de Zaragoza, 2005.

—Diana Norton

LA CASA DE BERNARDA ALBA (THE HOUSE OF BERNARDA ALBA) (1987) Director: Mario Camus Screenplay: Mario Camus and Antonio Larreta, based on the play with the same title by Federico García Lorca Specs: 103 minutes; color Mario Camus’s La casa de Bernarda Alba is a 1987 adaptation of Federico García Lorca’s 1936 drama of the same name. Highly faithful in both plot and dialogue

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to the play, Camus’s film recounts the tragic story of its eponymous antagonist and her ultimately futile efforts to control the lives of her five daughters by making them virtual prisoners within their own home. If not an exact copy of its literary source, the motion picture rarely diverges from the drama in any significant way. Rather, changes made by Camus and screenplay collaborator Antonio Larreta are largely limited to the abbreviation of some of García Lorca’s more poetic passages and the cinematic elaboration of action that transpires off-stage in the drama. One example of these modifications occurs in the opening scene of the movie at the funeral of Bernarda’s second husband. Whereas the tragedy begins with plot exposition in the form of a conversation between the family’s housekeeper, “Poncia” (Florinda Chico), and another servant, the motion picture transports viewers to the church where the service is taking place. While that building’s ornate Baroque interior reinforces the sense of a society trapped in the age of the Inquisition, it also disengages from the suffocating claustrophobia created by García Lorca’s singular setting of “four very white walls” throughout the entire play. Once the family returns home, however, all other exterior scenes are shot from the perspective of the house’s doors or windows, thus preserving a prisonlike feeling. The progression of events in the film, following those of the play, has “Bernarda” (Irene Gutiérrez Caba) imposing strict mourning on her daughters while preparing for the mismatched marriage of her eldest daughter, the sickly and unattractive “Angustias” (Enriqueta Carballeira), to the younger, handsome “Pepe el Romano” (Álvaro Quiroga). The jealousy of the remaining siblings, especially that of the second-youngest daughter, “Martirio” (Victoria Peña), is exacerbated by a growing suspicion that the free-spirited youngest, “Adela” (Ana Belén), has designs on her sister’s fiancé. The latter, only mentioned by name in the drama, appears in the film as a shadowy rider whose nocturnal visits are represented at angles from the different sisters’ barred windows and by the sounds of his horse’s hooves echoing through the stillness of the night. When Adela’s involvement with Pepe is finally confirmed on-screen, it is through an erotic montage in which the couple fondles one another through the bars while Martirio, listening from an adjoining room, engages in an act of autoeroticism. While these intercut scenes may be extrapolated from García Lorca’s text, their sexual intensity is a clear reflection of Camus’s application of a late 20th-century aesthetic to a work already judged to be daring in its day. Even more so than with the film’s visual design, screenwriters Camus and Larreta exhibit a broad deference to the original dialogue written by one of Spain’s most consecrated poets on the eve of his murder at the hands of fascist militiamen. Of these minimal changes, all of which involve deletions from rather than additions to García Lorca’s text, most relate to tone. For example, Camus omits one humorous moment in the otherwise bleak story when Bernarda innocuously describes the village priest’s cassock as a “skirt.” More substantive is the film’s reduction of “María Josefa’s” (Rosario García Ortega) fifth-act monologue. In the play, Bernarda’s seemingly insane mother escapes from her room dressed in her wedding gown and carrying a lamb, which she insists is her newborn child. Harkening back to the function of the divine madman in literature, María Josefa’s highly expressionistic speech, a celebration of female sexuality, is a repudiation

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of Bernarda’s misguided traditionalism. Camus replaces the lamb with an imaginary infant and redacts much of García Lorca’s symbolist verse, preserving the monologue’s essential message while moving the action more quickly to its tragic conclusion. The final fundamental difference between the drama and the film, one of pure invention on the director’s part, is the inclusion of a room containing Angustias’s trousseau. While the play has Bernarda assign her other four daughters the futile task of sewing their own trousseaux for marriages that will never take place, the film places an expensive collection of bed linens and nightgowns in a locked room. Symbolic of Bernarda’s reactionary ideas about gender and class, the room is opened only to display to neighbor women the expensive white linens and nightgowns, objects emblematic of the family’s puritanical virtue. By then having Adela hang herself in the same space after her affair with Pepe is discovered, Camus creates a powerful visual metaphor wholly consistent with García Lorca’s indictment of patriarchy and misogyny. See also La colmena (The Beehive) —Eric L. Reinholtz

CASTILLOS DE CARTÓN (3SOME) (2009) Director: Salvador García Ruiz Screenplay: Enrique Urbizu, based on a novel by Almudena Grandes Specs: 94 minutes; color The film Castillos de cartón tells the story of three young adults who fall in love with one another. The focus on the love triangle constructs an intimate story about the psychology of love, sex, and the emotive reactions to joy and loss. The screenplay is based on Almudena Grandes’s 2004 novel, whose passionate language and examination of the past from a tragic present moment (as suicide) emphasizes the range of emotions and reactions of the threesome. In the film, director Salvador García Ruiz weaves a sentimental tone with visceral emotions as the characters’ work through the consequences of their complicated and unconventional relationship. The story centers around young adults “Maria José” (Adriana Ugarte), “Marcos” (Nilo Mur), and “Jaime” (Biel Durán), who are studying fine art at the university, as they experience falling in and out of love and taking part in erotic acts as a threesome. The theme of excess controls both the passionate sexual relationship of the three friends and their obsession to produce art. Both their physical relationship and their artistic productions become competitive, especially between the two male characters. However, their physical bodies only partially fulfill one another’s erotic desires. Throughout the film, Maria José has difficulty reaching sexual climax; Marcos subtly questions his sexual preference; and Jaime, perhaps the most erotically driven of the three, focuses on fulfilling his own physical pleasure. In the excessive erotic acts and in the paradox of the impossibility of fulfilled desire and unquenchable yearning, the relationships among the three slowly unravel. Jealousy of successes in both art and in their

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Biel Durán, Adriana Ugarte, and Nilo Mur. IFC Films / Photofest © IFC Films

relationships take hold. As the relationships dismantle, the three friends’ lives take different paths: Marcos becomes a successful artist; Maria José becomes an art appraiser; and Jaime, not as successful as an artist as Marcos, continues his life with narcissistic and jealous tendencies. In the movie, viewers see the relationships among the three friends develop from the very beginning to the beginning of the end. The storyline, which is focused on the friends’ sexual relationship and how it affects their art, emphasizes that participation in the relationship positively and negatively affects all three characters. Controlling the erotic dynamics of the threesome and maintaining the position of power in their physical relationship excites Jaime. Maria José struggles with societal and familial disapproval of the relationship and also vacillates between which male character fulfills her physical and emotional desire the most. And Marcos laments his inability to have intercourse with women at first, and, later, he fears that he will not be able to successfully produce art if the relationship with Jaime and Maria José does not continue. The movie features many scenes in which the three friends participate in erotic acts and addresses the psychological impact that the atypical arrangement has on Maria José and Marcos. The film takes up the phenomenological theme of perspective of what is real and what is not (and what matters most and what does not). What is seen—how it is seen and how it is depicted—occupies a central focus of the story in the three friends’ art and in their relationship. With their relationship, the friends defy traditional societal norms. In their artistic creations, they bend traditional ways to

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communicate perception and meaning. At one point in the movie, in fact, Marcos declares that “Todo es autorretrato,” or “everything is a self-portrait.” The statement highlights the way in that the three friends create art and participate in erotic acts. The others in the relationship and their works of art, functioning as mirrors for self-examination, permit the characters to observe their selves from distinct perspectives. They each express deep egocentrism as they wallow in their narcissism. Yet, ironically, their relationship requires the active participation of all three. García Ruiz’s film does a commendable job of portraying the intimate connection that the three friends share and the fleeting nature of desire and lust, while examining how art and the other offer opportunities to examine selfhood and subjectivities. See also A mi madre le gustan las mujeres (My Mother Likes Women); Los aires difíciles (Rough Winds); Atlas de geografía humana (Atlas of Human Geography); Las edades de Lulú (The Ages of Lulu) —Jennifer Brady

CELDA 211 (CELL 211) (2009) Director: Daniel Monzón Screenplay: Daniel Monzón and Jorge Guerricaechevarría Specs: 113 minutes; color Celda 211 is a 2009 film directed by Daniel Monzón. The film tells the story of a prison riot. It received eight Goya Awards—for Best Actor, Best Actress, Best Breakthrough Actor, Best Director, Best Editing, Best Picture, Best Screenplay, and Best Sound. The film was also a box-office success. The plot of the film revolves around “Juan” (Alberto Ammann), a young Spanish man who is going to start working in a prison, when he is accidentally knocked down during a visit to the incarceration facility. His two colleagues take him to cell 211 to assist him. Simultaneously a prison riot starts and the two other prison guards must leave Juan behind to save their lives. Sometime later, Juan awakens and realizes he is in the prison in the midst of a riot. Shortly thereafter, the other prisoners learn that Juan is occupying cell 211. Juan is deeply worried about the situation, but he manages to convince the prisoners that he’s actually one of them, even gaining the respect and confidence of the leader of the riot, “Malamadre” (Luis Tosar). Unlike Malamadre, Juan speaks well and is able to remain calm and collective in stressful situations. Indeed, Malamadre is charmed by Juan because he is his perfect counterpoint for the riot. Juan’s pregnant wife, “Elena” (Marta Etura), finds out about the riot and heads toward the prison. Yet amid the confusion with the relatives of prisoners, Elena is beaten up by a policeman. This moment is broadcasted while Juan and the other prisoners are watching the news. Juan becomes furious and asks the authorities to provide more information. However, the information provided is scarce and Malamadre decides to kill one of the ETA prisoners he has taken as hostages.

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Alberto Ammann and Luis Tosar. IFC Films / Photofest © IFC Films

As the conflict escalates between the prisoners and the authorities, “Apache” (Carlos Bardem) learns about Juan’s real identity. Simultaneously, Juan demands that “Utrilla” (Antonio Resines), the policeman who has beaten his wife, is taken to the prison. Once there, Juan learns that Elena has died. As a result, Utrilla is beaten up by the prisoners. Juan then cuts Utrilla’s throat after he reveals that Juan intended to become a guard as well. Ultimately Juan, now virtually a prisoner, is killed by guards. The film manages to depict the lack of hope and rationale within prison settings, the random characteristics of freedom, as well as the despair and anger that thrives in incarceration facilities. See also Lo imposible (The Impossible); Daniel Monzón (Appendix A); El niño (The Kid); Luis Tosar (Appendix A) —Guillermo Sanz Gallego

LA CELESTINA (CELESTINA) (1996) Director: Gerardo Vera Screenplay: Rafael Azcona, Gerardo Vera, and Francisco Rico, based on a novel by Fernando de Rojas Specs: 92 minutes; color La Celestina is a 1996 film directed by Gerardo Vera. The screenwriter and novelist Rafael Azcona wrote the screenplay, and the film direction was executed by

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Gerardo Vera and Professor Francisco Rico, a renowned expert on medieval and Renaissance Spanish Literature. The film is an adaptation of the classical Spanish novel Tragicomedia de Calisto y Melibea (Tragicomedy of Calisto and Melibea), known as La Celestina, written in 1499 by Fernando de Rojas. This novel is considered a masterpiece that represents the end of medieval literature and the beginning of Renaissance literature in Spain. Although the film was nominated for seven Goya Awards (1997), it failed to win any of them. The plot of the movie revolves around a young aristocrat, “Calisto” (Juan Diego Botto), who is desperately in love with “Melibea” (Penélope Cruz), the daughter of a rich merchant. Calisto’s servant “Sempronio” (Nancho Novo), seeing his master tormented by love and desire, realizes he can take advantage of his master, advises Calisto to contact “Celestina” (Terele Pávez)—an old prostitute, witch, procurer, and brothel owner—assuring Calisto that she can make Melibea fall in love with him. Calisto accepts the suggestion and orders Sempronio to visit Celestina and arrange a meeting. Once at Celestina’s place, she and Sempronio decide to collude in a scam to capitalize on Calisto and his obsession, and then share in the profits. At that point, another one of Calisto’s servants, “Pármeno” (Jordi Mollà), who lived with Celestina when she was a child, tries to persuade Calisto to establish business arrangements with her. Calisto, blinded by the possibility of reaching his dream of having Melibea, crudely rejects Pármeno’s advice. Emotionally wounded by Calisto’s rejection, Pármeno decides to ally himself with Sempronio and Celestina. Once Calisto is convinced and willing to pay whatever Celestina demands in order to make Melibea love him, Celestina puts a spell on Melibea and pays her a visit to talk about Calisto. At that moment under the mystical incanta-

Penélope Cruz and Juan Diego Botto. Sogepaq Distribución / Photofest © Sogepaq Distribución

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tion imposed by Celestina, Melibea falls deeply in love with Calisto—allowing Celestina to arrange a secret meeting between the lovers. Her payoff in sight, Celestina directs Calisto to meet the entranced Melibea at midnight in her house garden. Calisto, elated at the news of the meeting, gives Celestina an expensive gold chain as payment for her services. While Calisto prepares to meat Melibea, the conspirators Sempronio and Pármeno demand their share of the profit from Celestina, but she refuses, arguing that is she that has done all of the work and owes them nothing. Sempronio and Pármeno, blinded by profit and rage, murder Celestina. Although the two attempt a hasty escape, Sempronio and Pármenos are captured and executed. Soon “Areusa” (Maribel Verdú) and “Elicia” (Candela Peña), the two lovers of Pármeno and Sempronio who also work at Celestina’s brothel, learn of their boyfriends’ fate and plan revenge. Believing Melibea must suffer the death of her lover as they do, Areusa and Elicia hire a thug to kill Calisto. That night, at Melibea’s garden, these thugs start a fight with Calisto’s servants, luring Calisto into the fight in their defense. Running to their aid, Calisto falls and breaks his neck. Devastated, Melibea kills herself. Despite the fact that the film adheres to much of the same tenor as its written literary companion, the film loses the comical and often ironic tone of the book, becoming little more than a romantic drama rather than a deeply humanistic tragicomedy. See also Lázaro de Tormes (Lazaro of Tormes); Candela Peña (Appendix A) —Alex Pinar

LA COLMENA (THE BEEHIVE) (1982) Director: Mario Camus Screenplay: José Luis Dibildos, based on the novel by José Cela Specs: 112 minutes; color La colmena is a film directed by Mario Camus. It is based on the novel of the same title written by Nobel Laureate Camilo José Cela. The Spanish author appears briefly in the film, playing the role of a bohemian writer. The film portrays life in Madrid in winter during the aftermath of the Spanish Civil War. It was awarded a Golden Bear and was a box-office success at the time. The film manages to depict some of the most outstanding features of the period, such as misery, rationing, and hunger. The film displays the lives and daily challenges of a series of characters during the 1940s. Doña Rosa’s Café is the meeting point for most of them, such as a group of broke writers who try to make “Don Ibrahim” (Luis Escobar) pay for a round of coffees after delivering some words of praise. One of these writers is “Martín” (José Sacristán), a young man who lives clandestinely. He cannot afford a guesthouse and therefore sleeps in free rooms at a brothel. “Leonardo Meléndez” (José Luis López Vázquez) is also a regular customer at Doña Rosa’s Café. He trades in the straperlo—the Spanish black market at the time—but he also dares to steal goods and food from his housemates.

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Concha Velasco and José Sacristán. Suevia Films / Photofest © Suevia Films

The film also manages to portray Spanish society at the time as a macho society riddled with corruption and thriving second-class citizens living on the margins in Franco Spanish morality. For example, “Julián” (Rafael Alonso), a homosexual character whose mother is murdered, is arrested as a suspect in the murder, but he is not told about the reason why he has been detained. Later on, when he is released, a policeman crudely explains that his mother has been murdered. The role of women is equally contentious throughout the film: women seem to have limited future prospects—either getting married or laboring as prostitutes. That is the case with “Victorita” (Ana Belén), whose fiancé, “Tísico” (Imanol Arias), is seriously ill, and her only way to help him financially is by going into prostitution. Although sexuality is depicted as a topic of taboo, its inclusion serves to highlight the hypocrisy of Franco’s Spain. Premarital sex is not accepted, and therefore some couples must meet at private apartments they rent per hour, and in which they arrive separately with a code in an effort to maintain confidentiality. For example, “Julita” (Victoria Abril) meets her father, “Roque” (José Bódalo), in the stairway of such an apartment, telling him she has come to the dressmaker, and he tells her he is going to visit an ill friend. However, he suspects she has rented the apartment with her fiancé, but he does not dare to face her with the truth, because he has something to hide as well—namely, an extramarital affair.

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La colmena is an excellent example of Mario Camus’s extraordinary skill at adapting literary texts to film. Two years after adapting Cela’s masterpiece, Camus released his film version of Miguel Delibes’s Los santos incentes, a film that received several awards at the Cannes Film Festival, such as two for Best Actor (for Francisco Rabal and Alfredo Landa) and the Prize of the Ecumenical Jury for Mario Camus, who was also nominated for the Palme d’Or. See also Mario Camus (Appendix A); La casa de Bernarda Alba (The House of Bernarda Alba); Tiovivo c.1950 (Tiovivo c.1950) —Guillermo Sanz Gallego

LA COMUNIDAD (COMMON WEALTH) (2000) Director: Álex de la Iglesia Screenplay: Jorge Guerricaechevarría and Álex de la Iglesia Specs: 107 minutes; color La comunidad is a 2000 film directed by Álex de la Iglesia. The film tells the story of “Julia” (Carmen Maura), a real estate agent who finds a large amount of money in a dead man’s apartment, and her efforts to keep the money against the wishes of the dead man’s neighbors. Among other awards, the film won Best Actress (Carmen Maura), Best Supporting Actor (Emilio Gutiérrez Caba), and Best Special Effects awards at the Premios Goya 2003. It was also featured in the San Sebastián International Film Festival in 2000, where Carmen Maura won the Silver Seashell Award for Best Actress. In a block of apartments in Madrid, a group of individuals awaits the death of their neighbor for a chance to exact the 300 million pesetas (around $20 million) that the dying man holds. The fortune was accrued through the prize winnings of football pools; although the failing man had promised to share his fortune with his neighbors, he does not, generating deep resentment. In a peculiar twist, a newcomer to the community, Julia—an unhappy real estate agent—happens upon the money and tries to run away with it. Julia hates her life, so when she finds the money she envisions a wealthy transformation, abandoning what she sees as her dull existence. However, leaving the community is not easy, as she soon realizes that the neighbors have been waiting many years for the same loot. Maura’s role holds a tour de force to run away with the money, comically resisting the opposition of a ridiculously pathetic onslaught by the neighbors to retain the newfound wealth. Films such as these have many similar precedents in Spanish cinema, evoking the films of directors such as Luis García Berlanga, José Luis Cuerda, Fernando Trueba, and Pedro Almodóvar, or the screenplays written by Rafael Azcona. However, de la Iglesia belongs to a new generation of Spanish filmmakers and, like those of his contemporaries, his films reflect his strong interest in popular culture, playing with a mix of different genres and even alternating between comedies and thrillers within the same textual projects. The cinema of Álex de la Iglesia attempts to bring together modernity with patterns distinct to Spanish audiovisual culture—his success at this largely

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confirmed by the recognition of public film critics and other experts. Additionally, as in recent decades, Spanish cinema has undergone a significant process of internationalization, and de la Iglesia has conformed to this trend, casting a diverse set of acting talent inclusive of such characters as the disturbed “Ramona” (Terele Pávez), violent “Castro” (Sancho Gracia), perfidious “Emilio” (Emilio Gutiérrez Caba), and guileless “Charly” (Eduardo Antuña). Álex de la Iglesia’s films have been well received at international festivals and have been released on screens all over the world. La comunidad was distributed commercially in Europe, the United States, South America, and Asia. See also Acción mutante (Mutant Action); Las brujas de Zugarramurdi (Witching & Bitching); El día de la bestia (The Day of the Beast); Álex de la Iglesia (Appendix A); Carmen Maura (Appendix A) Bibliography Angulo, J., and A. Santamarina. Álex de la Iglesia: la pasión de rodar. San Sebastián: Filmoteca Vasca, 2012. Buse, P., N. Triana Toribio, and A. Willis. The Cinema of Alex de la Iglesia. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2007.

—David García Reyes

EL CONCURSANTE (THE CONTESTANT) (2007) Director: Rodrigo Cortés Screenplay: Rodrigo Cortés Specs: 90 minutes; color El concursante (The Contestant) is a 2007 film written and directed by Rodrigo Cortés. It was his first feature film and won several awards, such as the Critic’s Prize at the Málaga Film Festival. The plot of the movie revolves around “Martín Circo” (Leonardo Sbaraglia), a poorly paid adjunct professor who teaches history of the economy. His life changes when he participates in a TV quiz show, winning €3 million, the biggest prize ever offered in the history of television. But with this win, there is a catch: the contestant will receive the prize not in cash but in several expensive items such a light aircraft, an old house, a luxury car, and several other expensive items. These winnings present other problems when Martín realizes that, according to the law, winners of a contest have to pay a tax of 50 percent of the prize. At that point, Martín has no money in cash to pay to the tax office, so he explores the possibility of selling the items he won back to the companies that provided those items to the TV channel, yet, in the end, none of the companies wish to buy their own products back. Advised by a financial consultant, he decides to ask a bank for a loan to pay the outstanding taxes. With loan money padding his account, he learns that his girlfriend, “Laura” (Miryam Gallego), has begun to spend without restraint, depleting the money marked for paying off his debts. Arguments over finances and responsibility ensue and Laura leaves him. Desperate, Martín devises a plan: he will draw the

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Leonardo Sbaraglia. Filmax Entertainment / Photofest © Filmax Entertainment

remaining money from the bank loan, burn his house down to eliminate any liability from his mortgage, and make arrangements to fly to another country. Successfully halfway through his plan, setting his house a blaze, Martín realizes that he has forgotten the briefcase with the cash inside. Returning to his house to recover the money, he is trapped inside and dies there among the flames. The film is a dark comedy that criticizes consumer society and global capitalism. In a satirical fashion, El concursante features the ironies between want and satisfaction, all belied by bizarre financial systems that society detests yet cannot afford to live without. See also Enterrado (Buried) —Miki Ishimori

COSAS QUE NUNCA TE DIJE (THINGS I NEVER TOLD YOU) (1996) Director: Isabel Coixet Screenplay: Isabel Coixet Specs: 93 minutes; color Cosas que nunca te dije is the second feature-length film of Catalan auteur Isabel Coixet. After releasing her first feature, Demasiado viejo para morir joven (1989), she had a difficult time securing a production company or funding for

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Cosas. In 1992, no producer would accept the script, and the Ministry of Culture refused Coixet’s petition for funding three times. As such, the director decided to self-produce the film with her recently minted production company, Eddie Saeta (1989). She also looked for funding outside of Spain, in the United States, where she eventually filmed Cosas. Although shot in Oregon with an English-speaking cast, the film did garner a niche audience in Spain. Most notably, the film was recognized with a nomination for Best Original Screenplay at the Goyas, an award that the film won at the CEC Awards. The film also won two awards for Best Director, one at the Ondas and another at the Catalonian Sant Jordi Awards. In total, the film gathered eight wins and three nominations, and was given the Fotogramas de Plata Award for Best Film. The plot of the film revolves around a series of vignettes about the lives of its characters, whose paths intersect and who are each introduced by a titular caption bearing their name, the two most prominent being “Ann” (Lili Taylor) and “Don” (Andrew McCarthy), but also including “Laurie” (Leslie Mann), “Frank” (Seymour Cassel), “Paul” (Alexis Arquette), “Diane” (Debi Mazar), and “Steve” (Richard Edson). The film opens to a voice-over by Don, telling us that life and love are unpredictable; anything can happen. We then meet Ann, a clerk at a camera shop. When Ann returns home from work, she receives a call from her boyfriend, “Bob,” who has gone off to Prague and is now breaking up with her. She is so devastated that she drinks a bottle of nail polish remover. After being sent to—and then released from—the hospital, she decides to borrow a camera from her store and begins to tape herself, telling Bob—in a cathartic monologue— the eponymic “things she never told him.” Meanwhile, however, she hides her breakup from her coworker, Laurie, who is always on-again–off-again with her own beau. One day Don enters the camera shop and is taken by Ann, as he seems to recognize her voice from an intriguing conversation he had with a woman who had called his suicide hotline for help. He not only buys a camera from her, but he waits for her to finish her shift and then follows her to the laundromat, where the two sit side by side and talk about their messed up lives. Eventually Ann invites him to her house on Sunday, and there the two make love. Meanwhile, the videotapes that Ann has been making for her estranged boyfriend have been ending up in the hands of her courier neighbor, Paul. Although he promises Ann that he will get the tapes out quickly, he instead holds onto the recordings and watches every one. Paul seems voyeuristically obsessed with Ann, but he eventually meets and falls for Diane, a transsexual who also frequently calls Don’s helpline. By chance, Don’s father, Frank, also meets Diane at a bar one evening. They seem to connect, but when Frank asks for the one thing he wants most, to be hugged, Diane rebukes him. However, Frank runs into Diane again, this time while she is with Paul at the hospital, where the three, plus Ann, await news about Don, who has been accidentally shot by Steve, another frequent caller to the hotline who lost it when he found out that his wife was leaving him. Don ends up healing from his wounds, but as soon as Ann finds out that he’ll make it, she leaves the hospital without visiting him. She returns home, where she receives another phone call from Bob, who has decided that he now wants to be with her. Immediately following their conversation, Ann furiously packs her suitcase. Bob returns home, and Don is released from the hospital. They both look

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for her to no avail. The film ends as Don states, “There were a lot of things I would have liked to have told her. I would like to have found her and told her.” Suddenly, a woman sits down on a bench next to him. In circular fashion, echoing his first voice-over, he exclaims as he recognizes Ann, “Anything can happen, right?!” As might already be apparent, in terms of genre, Cosas crosses the boundaries of US “indie” cinema and the European auteurist tradition. In this sense, it appeals to multiple audiences, both in the United States and in Spain. What connects both of these genres, nonetheless, is their often sardonic stance on contemporary culture, as well as their self-referentiality. These elements are quite apparent in Cosas. The opening scene combines both, as Ann sells a camera to an elderly woman (Peggy West). Ann tells her to buy the camera for the same reason that “everyone” buys such things—to flaunt it. This inspires the woman to desire not just a camera but a video camera, providing a biting critique of advanced consumer society, enslaved by the mentality of one-upping the Joneses, as well as the egomania of recording each and every aspect of one’s very important life for posterity. (In this critique, Coixet is before her time, anticipating the age of social media.) The video camera, however, also becomes an important symbol of self-referentiality in Cosas, particularly as Ann takes to shooting her monologues about “the things she never told” her ex-boyfriend Bob. In these scenes, the alignment of Coixet’s camera with the eye of Ann’s camera demystifies for the spectator the naturalizing gaze of the cinematic apparatus, causing the looker to become immensely aware of the constructedness of the cinematographic image, an idea reinforced as both Paul and the spectator then voyeuristically watch Ann’s tapes together. These complementary elements of “indie” film and “auteurist” style, social critique and self-referentiality, will continue to populate Coixet’s films to come, largely the source for her renowned popularity both in Spain and abroad. See also Isabel Coixet (Appendix A); Mi vida sin mí (My Life without Me); Las vida secreta de las palabras (The Secret Life of Words) Bibliography Cerrato, Rafael. Isabel Coixet. Madrid: Ediciones J.C., 2008. Coixet, Isabel. La vida secreta de Isabel Coixet. Barcelona: Lunwerg, 2011. Videl, Belén. “Love, Loneliness and Laundromats: Affect and Artifice in the Melodramas of Isabel Coixet.” In Contemporary Spanish Cinema and Genre, edited by Jay Beck and Vicente Rodríguez Ortega, 219–38. New York: Manchester University Press, 2008.

—Amanda Eaton McMenamin

CRÍA CUERVOS (RAISE RAVENS) (1976) Director: Carlos Saura Screenplay: Carlos Saura Specs: 105 minutes; color Cría cuervos is a 1976 dramatic film written and directed by Carlos Saura. The film tells the story of a young girl, “Ana” (Ana Torrent, Geraldine Chaplin), and

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Conchita Pérez and Ana Torrent. Jason Allyn / Photofest © Jason Allyn

her two sisters (Conchita Pérez and Maite Sánchez) as they adjust to life after their father’s death. The film won the Grand Prize of the Jury at the 1976 Cannes Film Festival and was nominated for the Palme d’Or that same year. Told through flashforwards and flashbacks, Cría cuervos explores Ana’s reactions to the deaths of her mother and father and to her life under the guardianship of her strict aunt, “Tía Paulina” (Mónica Randall), and mute grandmother, “la abuela” (Josefina Díaz). The film follows Ana and her sisters through their summer vacation: playing in their room, pushing their grandmother’s wheelchair around outside, and helping “Rosa” (Florinda Chico), the maid, with various chores. Throughout all of these rituals of daily life, the concept of death permeates the film, as the viewer is introduced to the traumatic death of Ana’s mother from cancer, Ana’s own murderous desire to kill her father (which had led her to place a powder that she believed was poison in his nightly glass of milk), the death of her hamster “Roni,” Ana’s own imagined suicide, and even her attempt to assist her grandmother’s suicide with the same powder she had used in her father’s milk, which turns out to have been baking soda. Cría cuervos was shot in the summer of 1975, as Franco lay dying, but did not premier until January 26, 1976, two months after his death. In this way, the film is said to have served as a metaphor for a country transitioning from the authoritarianism of the Franco regime to uncharted political territory (the Spanish Constitution was not ratified until 1978). The title of the film derives from the Spanish proverb “Cría cuervos y te sacarán los ojos,” which translates to “Raise ravens and they’ll take out your

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eyes.” It is typically a comment on poor child-rearing, though it also indicates a certain ingratitude on the part of the children toward those who raised them. The film’s focus on childhood as a difficult and traumatic time is highlighted by references to fraught domestic relations (such as scenes in which Ana and her sisters play out a suspicious wife confronting her husband for cheating, or when Ana punishes her dolls for behaving badly). See also ¡Ay, Carmela! (Ay, Carmela!); Bodas de sangre (Blood Wedding); ¡Dispara! (Outrage!); Goya en Burdeos (Goya in Bordeaux); Carlos Saura (Appendix A) Bibliography Gámez Fuentes, María José. “Maternidad y ausencia en Cría cuervos de Carlos Saura.” Hispanic Research Journal: Iberian and Latin American Studies 2, no. 2 (2001): 153–64. Kinder, Marsha. “Carlos Saura: The Political Development of Individual Consciousness.” Film Quarterly 32, no. 3 (1979): 14–25. Okamoto, Brianna. “Raise Ravens and They’ll Peck Out Your Eyes: How Spanish Filmmakers Bypassed Film Censorship during the Franco Dictatorship.” Film Matters 6, no. 3 (2015): 68–71.

—Diana Norton

EL CRIMEN DE CUENCA (THE CUENCA CRIME) (1979) Director: Pilar Miró Screenplay: Salvador Maldonado and Pilar Miró Specs: 91 minutes; color El crimen de Cuenca is a 1979 film directed by Pilar Miró. The director’s first major success, it is based on a true event that took place in Osa de la Vega, a village in the province of Cuenca, in 1910. Two men, Gregorio Valero and León Sánchez, were accused of the murder of a shepherd, José María Grimaldos, nicknamed “El Cepa.” The motive was supposed to have been financial, the shepherd’s family accusing Valero and Sánchez of having robbed Grimaldos of his earnings from the sale of his sheep. Yet because of a total lack of evidence, including the discovery of an actual body, the accusations by the shepherd’s family were, at least to begin with, not sufficient to have the men tried. Local political pressure, however, forced the case to be reopened in 1913. Confessions were extracted from Valero and Sánchez by means of torture, and in 1918, they were tried and received death sentences, though subsequently commuted to 18 years in prison. Then, in 1926, the two men were acquitted, as it was discovered that Grimaldos was not dead after all. In fact, he had simply left Osa de la Vega and set up home in a neighboring municipality. Criminal proceedings were opened against those who had conspired to send Valero and Sánchez to prison, although they all escaped justice, either because they died or because they were eventually cleared of any wrongdoing. El crimen de Cuenca is one of several films in Spain’s immediate postdictatorship period whose treatment of a relatively distant historical event has been understood as making thinly veiled social commentary about Spain’s more re-

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Félix Rotaeta, Fernando Rey, and Héctor Alterio. In-Cine / Photofest © In-Cine

cent past and/or contemporary situation. It remains largely faithful to the events of its historical source, which was also the inspiration for a 1939 novel by Ramón J. Sender, El lugar de un hombre (The Place of a Man). The film opens with a blind storyteller, “Ciego” (Vicente Cuesta), recounting the tale of the crime committed in Cuenca. It then moves on to the events surrounding the crime presented in chronological order: the disappearance of Grimaldos (Guillermo Montesinos); the family’s accusations and subsequent collusion of the authorities; the arrest and torture of Valero (Daniel Dicenta) and Sánchez (José Manuel Cervino); and, finally, the two men’s release once it is discovered that Grimaldos is alive. At one point in the film, we return to the scene of the blind storyteller. A caption locates the scene in Mira de la Sierra and dates it August 21, 1920. We realize now that Grimaldos is among the audience gathered in Mira to hear the storyteller. He listens in astonishment and then buys a copy of the story, although it becomes clear from the way he turns the sheet of paper in his hand that he is illiterate. Despite the fact that he is mentioned by his nickname in Ciego’s account, Grimaldos fails to act on the disturbing revelation that two men have been accused of his murder. Later in the film, as in real life, the parish priest of the municipality of Tresjuncos, Padre Rufo (José Vivo), receives a written request for a baptismal certificate for Grimaldos, who is due to be married in his newly adopted village. Rufo, encouraged by the local boss and political representative “Deputy Francisco Martínez de Contreras” (Fernado

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Rey), ignores the request in a willful, though ultimately futile, attempt to conceal any evidence that the shepherd might still be alive. The film’s focus is principally on the relationship between Valero and Sánchez, in particular how their friendship suffers under the treatment of the authorities who turn the men against each other and alienate them from their families. Above all, the film is notable for its graphic scenes of torture. The depiction of torture is realistically brutal and stark. In scenes where the accused are at the total mercy of the sadistic “Sergeant Taboada” (Francisco Casares) of the Civil Guard, close-ups are employed to horrific effect. Indeed, when the film had its first showing in 1980, at the Berlin Film Festival, some spectators were reportedly so affected that they walked out. Although the events depicted took place well before the Spanish Civil War and the subsequent years of Francoist rule, the themes of torture and imprisonment in the film would have had a particular resonance in a country that had only recently emerged from dictatorship—even more so given that the perpetrators of the physical violence in the film are the Civil Guard. This aspect of the film unnerved Spain’s then-ruling party, the Union of the Democratic Center, which allowed the film to be confiscated by the military authorities and its director to become subject to investigation by a military tribunal. Miró was eventually exonerated of any crime and, after a subsequent reform of military law, the film was cleared for release in Spain, opening to audiences in August 1981. The fact that El crimen de Cuenca was the only film that had received a ban since the end of Francoist censorship in 1977 may have contributed to its box-office success—a success it enjoyed despite being released as an “S” film (a certificate normally reserved for pornography). Just as contentious as the graphic depiction of torture, particularly for the politically right, was the way in which the film depicted the events of Osa de la Vega not as a judicial error but as the result of collusion between the very pillars of society constituted by the political class, the judiciary, the Church, and the military. The film ends on a note of poetic justice, reminding us of the rumor that, if some died before they could be tried and sentenced, it was possibly because they opted to take their own lives instead. Ultimately, the significance and impact of El crimen de Cuenca can be understood against the background of what has been called Spain’s “pact of silence”—a tacit agreement not to open old wounds or dig up the conflicts of the past in order to ensure a smooth transition from dictatorship to democracy. In this context, despite being set in the early 1900s, the film’s subject matter was, for some, clearly too polemical. See also Pilar Miró (Appendix A) Bibliography Caparrós Lera, J. M. Historia crítica del cine español (desde 1897 hasta hoy). Barcelona: Ariel, 1999. Jordan, Barry, and Rikki Morgan-Tamosunas. Contemporary Spanish Cinema. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1998. Seguin, Jean-Claude. Historia del cine español. Translated by José Manuel Revuelta. Madrid: Acento, 1994.

112     CRIMEN FERPECTO Torres, August M. Diccionario del cine español. Prologue by Manuel Gutiérrez Aragón. Madrid: Espasa Calpe, 1996. Triana-Toribio, Núria. Spanish National Cinema. London: Routledge, 2003.

—Federico Bonaddio

CRIMEN FERPECTO (THE PERFECT CRIME) (2004) Director: Álex de la Iglesia Screenplay: Álex de la Iglesia and Jorge Guerricaechevarría Specs: 106 minutes; color Crimen ferpecto is a black comedy with a horror film plot directed by Álex de la Iglesia. It narrates the story of “Rafael” (Guillermo Toledo), an ambitious, selfish, and womanizing salesman who works in a large department store called Yeyo’s. He manages the ladies’ section and dreams of becoming floor manager. However, after competing against don “Antonio” (Luis Varela), the manager of men’s wear, for this position, it is the latter who obtains it. Don Antonio assigns Rafael humiliating tasks, such as bringing old, useless mannequins to the cellar to be incinerated, and fires him after insulting the client who made him lose the management position by issuing a rubber check. Both men get in a fight in the wardrobes, in the course of which Rafael accidentally kills don Antonio. There is a witness, whom he recognizes only because of the shoes. That same night,

Kira Miró. Vitagraph Films / Photofest © Vitagraph Films

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Rafael tries to get rid of don Antonio’s corpse in the cellar of the store by putting it into the furnace. However, the furnace opening is too small; therefore, he leaves the body alone to get a knife. When he comes back, the corpse has mysteriously disappeared. It turns out that “Lourdes” (Mónica Cervera), an ugly shop assistant who is secretly in love with Rafael, is both the witness and his “guardian angel.” She has hidden the body in the sports department disguised as a skiing mannequin. After providing Rafael with an alibi in front of “Inspector Campoy” (Enrique Villén), dismembering don Antonio’s body with a meat knife and incinerating the corpse in the store’s furnace, she starts blackmailing the protagonist. Now that Rafael has everything he dreamt of, his life turns increasingly into a nightmare, as he must start a relationship with Lourdes, fire his attractive former lovers who worked in the store, and replace them with ugly saleswomen, as Lourdes wishes. As if that were not enough, Lourdes forces Rafael to meet her crazy family and get engaged to her. Given this situation, Rafael starts to get mad and is not able to distinguish between reality and his own fantasy. He imagines situations in which he kills Lourdes. He hears don Antonio’s voice telling him to kill her and then sees his green face with a meat knife through his smoking head. After Lourdes forces him to marry her on camera during the TV show Noche de bodas (Wedding Night) in front of all the colleagues of the department store where they both work, he begins to draft a plan to kill her. In order to gather his ideas on how to kill his oppressive wife, Rafael buys three films in which the protagonist also dreams of the perfect crime but cannot archive it: Alfred Hitchcock’s Dial M for Murder (1954) (whose title was translated as Crimen perfecto in Spain and inspires the title of the film), Luis Buñuel’s Ensayo de un crimen / The Criminal Life of Archibaldo de la Cruz (1955) (the burning of the mannequincorpse in a big oven as well as the protagonist’s voice-over, which gives insight to his thoughts, are a reminiscence of it), and Aro Tolbukhin: En la mente del asesino / Aro Tolbukhin in the Mind of a Killer (2002), directed by Isaac-Pierre Racine, Agustí Villaronga, and Lydia Zimmermann. He watches the films in the company of don Antonio, who successively recovers his (now green) body and brings Rafael to the idea of turning the tables, that is to say, not necessarily to kill Lourdes but to fake his own death and incriminate her in order to get free. Consequently, Rafael locks up Lourdes in a sauna and then sets the store on fire. A great number of customers run out of the store in a panic after hearing the fire alarm. Since she has a survival knife, Lourdes frees herself of the sauna and struggles with Rafael. Inspector Campoy puts an end to the fight and handcuffs Lourdes, and Rafael can fulfill his plan of faking his own death. The store is completely destroyed by the fire and Rafael’s body is never found. Afterward Lourdes becomes a famous and prestigious fashion designer. Her moda payaso (clown fashion) is successful and omnipresent. Meanwhile, Rafael has a new identity and has opened a little tie shop. One day he follows a woman wearing moda payaso and discovers what Lourdes has become. From being the unattractive person who once tried to force him to lead a mediocre life that he rejected, she has now become a glamorous and desired woman. Rafael is now left behind with a mediocre existence. Don Antonio, a kind of Jiminy Cricket, comforts him and gives him advice on new fashion trends from the beyond.

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See also Acción mutante (Mutant Action); Balada triste de trompeta (The Last Circus); Las brujas de Zugarramurdi (Witching & Bitching); La comunidad (Common Wealth); El día de la bestia (The Day of the Beast); Álex de la Iglesia (Appendix A) Bibliography Buse, Peter, Núria Triana Toribio, and Andy Willis. The Cinema of Álex de la Iglesia. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2007. Kercher, Dona. Latin Hitchcock: How Almodóvar, Amenábar, de la Iglesia, del Toro, and Campanella Became Notorious. London: Wallflower Press, 2015.

—Maribel Cedeño Rojas

LOS CRONOCRÍMENES (TIMECRIMES) (2007) Director: Nacho Vigalondo Screenplay: Nacho Vigalondo Specs: 88 minutes; color Los cronocrímenes is a 2007 film directed by Nacho Vigalondo. The film centers on “Héctor” and his conflicts with his past selves as he travels back in time. It is a science fiction drama constructed around the Novikov self-consistency principle, which claims that it is impossible to create a temporal paradox or to change the course of history. The movie won eight awards: the 2008 Amsterdam Fantastic Film Festival (Black Tulpin Award), the 2007 Austin Fantastic Fest (Next Wave Award), the 2008 Austin Film Critics Association (Best First Film), the 2009 Cinema Writers Circle Awards (Best New Artist), the 2009 Gérardmer Film Festival (Best Direct-to-Video Film), the 2008 New York City Horror Film Festival (Audience Choice Award), the 2008 Philadelphia Film Festival (Audience Award), and the 2009 Turia Awards (Best First Film). It was also nominated but did not win Best Movie in the 2007 International Sitges Film Festival or Best New Director at the 2009 Goya Awards. The director was granted €2 million budget and the Basque Country Cultural Ministry funded the movie. The plot of the movie is focused on the daylong time travel of “Héctor” (Karra Elejalde) and the complications he experiences with his multiple past selves. The film begins inside Héctor’s car; the protagonist is returning to the rural area where he resides after completing some errands in the city center. In his house he talks to his wife, “Clara” (Candela Fernández), who is assembling furniture in the garden. They have recently moved into the residence and nobody knows about their relocation; as a consequence, Héctor is concerned when someone calls to the just-connected home number and does not answer, instead just breathes through the line. Héctor sits in the garden, scoping out the surroundings with his binoculars, and notices a red cloth in the forest. After a few minutes, he examines the same spot and sees a young woman (Bárbara Goenaga) taking off her T-shirt. At this point, Clara announces she is going to the city center. Héctor uses his binoculars

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Karra Elejalde and Candela Fernández. Magnolia Pictures / Photofest © Magnolia Pictures

again once his wife leaves; however, the girl is no longer there. The protagonist decides to track her down. On his way to the woods, he finds a dumpster knocked over next to a bicycle. Héctor finds the women lying nearby; she is naked and seems unconscious. While Héctor observes her, someone stabs a pair of scissors into his arm. Running away, Héctor stops from time to time to observe the attacker through his binoculars: the aggressor is a man who hides his face under blood-covered bandages. While Héctor is inspecting the man, the attacker looks back at him, placing his fingers around his eyes as if he possessed binoculars too. Terribly scared, Héctor escapes through the forest until he stumbles upon a building. Héctor breaks in, passing a snack bar and an operating room, where he covers his wound with bandages, and finally finds himself in a laboratory. He discovers a walkie-talkie and asks for help. A scientist in a nearby building (Nacho Vigalondo) answers and invites Héctor to meet with him, as he can see the attacker approaching the building where Héctor is hiding. Seeing that it is dark outside, the scientist illuminates a path for Héctor to walk to the other building. While the attacker stalks Héctor with a car, he manages to arrive at the building. Afterward, when he sees the assailant’s face peeking through one of the windows of the building, Héctor follows the scientist’s advice and takes

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cover in an enormous pool filled with a white liquid. The pool closes with Héctor inside. Soon after, the machine opens. Héctor encounters the same scientist, but the man does not recognize him. This is not the only fact that confuses the protagonist: he entered the platform at night and it is now daytime outside. Both men step out of the building; while the scientist tries to acquire some information about Héctor, the protagonist finds his house through his binoculars. Horrified, he sees his wife and himself having the same conversation they had hours ago. The scientist clarifies then that the platform is a time machine and that Héctor has traveled a few hours back in time. After Héctor informs him about how he got there, the scientist explains that the situation can be resolved rather easily, as Héctor 1 (in the house at that moment) will repeat the actions of Héctor 2: he will hide in the platform from the attacker and travel back in time. Consequently, Héctor 2 just needs to wait until this occurs. Afterward, he will be able to return home and continue with his normal course of life. Even though the scientist advises Héctor 2 not to move or establish contact with his other self, the protagonist calls his house number. Following Héctor 1’s answer, Héctor 2 hangs up, steals the scientist’s car, and leaves. While driving back to his house, he spots the girl he saw undressing through his binoculars: she is riding a bicycle. At the same time as Héctor 2 observes her, a car crashes against him. Because of the impact, the scientist’s car rolls down through the woods; Héctor is still alive, but his face is injured. He uses his bloody arm bandages to cover his new wounds: Héctor 2 now looks just like the attacker that had been following him before. The girl on the bicycle hears the crash and approaches Héctor 2 to offer help. She announces she is going to call an ambulance, but first rearranges Héctor’s bandages, as they are falling apart, with some scissors she keeps in her backpack. During their conversation, the protagonist takes possession of the scissors and forces the girl to walk through a path next to her bicycle and a dumpster that was knocked over as a consequence of Héctor’s accident. At this point, he already realizes that he must compel the girl to undress to catch Héctor 1’s attention once he sneaks through the forest with his binoculars. Under Héctor’s threat, the woman takes her T-shirt off. While this is happening, Héctor 2 supervises with his binoculars that Héctor 1 sees her and feels curious enough to track her down. Taking advantage of Héctor 2’s focus on the binoculars, the girl tries to escape; they fall through the forest together where she receives a head injury and loses consciousness. Then Héctor 2 exploits the situation and undresses her, preparing her for the encounter with Héctor 1. Once Héctor 1 finds the woman, Héctor 2 stabs his second self in the arm, as he understands this will make Héctor 1 escape toward the building where he will travel in time. While he runs, Héctor 1 spies on Héctor 2 with his binoculars. Thinking he must scare him further, Héctor 2 puts his fingers around his eyes as if he possessed binoculars, mimicking what the attacker did to him before. When the girl regains consciousness, she runs through the forest and stumbles upon Héctor’s house; Héctor 2 notices and follows her, trying to explain

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why he forced her to undress. Héctor 2 observes a woman trip and break her neck while walking on the roof of his house. Héctor 2 also gets a closer look at the body from one of the house windows, seeing not the girl but rather his wife. A few minutes later, still in shock after his last discovery, he uses the walkietalkie to contact the scientist. During this conversation, Héctor 2 is told that Héctor 1 is in the laboratory next to the time machine building. He demands the scientist communicate with Héctor 1 and explain that the attacker is approaching the building he is hiding in. Then Héctor 2 drives his wife’s car through the illuminated path Héctor 1 is using to get to the scientist’s building. Once Héctor 1 is already traveling in time, Héctor 2 requests the scientist to send him back to the past to redeem his wife’s death by killing the other Héctor before he gets to the house. The scientist refuses to help him, stating that there will then be three versions of Héctor and also explains that he has previously thrown the battery of the time machine away in the forest. Héctor 2 is intrigued about why the scientist threw the battery away before he even requested going back in time. Following a few seconds of hesitation, the scientist confesses: there is a third version of him, Héctor 3, who came before Héctor 2 and requested the scientist not to let Héctor 2 go back to the past under any circumstances. Nevertheless, Héctor 2 threatens the scientist with a metal bar and forces him to assist him in traveling back in time. When they find the battery in the forest and after taking the bloody bandages off of his face, Héctor 2 enters the platform and travels back in time: he only gets there 30 seconds before the next Héctor will appear in the building. Once again, he meets with the scientist, who does not recognize him. Héctor, now converted in the third version of himself, requests that the scientist act surprised as the new Héctor materializes. Then the protagonist informs the scientist that he is going to be following Héctor 2. Héctor 3 follows Héctor 2 as he ignores the scientist’s advice to stay in the building and just wait until Héctor 1 travels back in time. Later, trying to kill the other version of himself, Héctor 3 causes Héctor 2’s car crash. This action, however, only causes the girl on the bicycle to stop and assist Héctor 2. Therefore, Héctor 3’s time travel spurred on the events leading up to the death of his wife. Right after the crash, Héctor 3 calls the scientist through his walkie-talkie and makes a request to prevent Héctor 2 from traveling back in time under any circumstances. When the girl regains consciousness after being forced to undress, she meets Héctor 3 in the forest; she does not recognize him since he does not have the bandages on the face that Héctor 2 was wearing. After conferring that they are both escaping from the same person, Héctor 3 and the girl run through the forest and find the protagonist’s house. This time, Héctor 3 meets with Carla inside the house, where she finds an intruder and calls the police. Without further explanation, Héctor 3 closes his wife in a room in the first floor, asking her not to move or interfere no matter what she hears. Afterward, he reunites with the other girl, who is hiding in one of the rooms upstairs. Héctor 3 states that she needs to disguise herself as another person to trick the attacker. He

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then cuts her hair to make the girl resemble his wife and asks her to escape through the stairs. Héctor 3 lets Clara out. They both sit in the house’s garden while they hear the girl fall from the roof. A few seconds later, Héctor 3 throws away the scissors he used to attack the other version of himself. While this occurs, Héctor 2 finds his wife’s car and drives to the time machine building. Nacho Vigalondo, also known by his 2004 Oscar-nominated short film 7:35 de la mañana (7:35 in the Morning), achieved significant recognition through Los cronocrímenes. While it is a science fiction drama that mainly focuses on entertaining the audience, according to the critics, the movie discusses the inescapability of the past, focusing on Novikov’s self-consistency principle. —Alba Marcé García

CUANDO VUELVAS A MI LADO (BY MY SIDE AGAIN) (1999) Director: Gracia Querejeta Screenplay: Gracia Querejeta, Elías Querejeta, and Manuel Gutiérrez Aragón Specs: 92 minutes; color Cuando vuelvas a mi lado is a 1999 film directed by Gracia Querejeta, who is the daughter of Elías Querejeta, a key film producer in the cinema industry of Spain during Franco’s time and the Transition. Cuando vuelvas a mi lado received seven Goya nominations as well as the award for Best Film in the Bogota Film Festival of 1999. Cuando vuelvas a mi lado is the title of a bolero that the director uses to examine the lives of three sisters who get reunited when they learn that their mother, “Adela” (Marta Belaustegui), has died. After the death of her husband, “Joao” (Jorge Perugorría), Adela had remained silent for the last 30 years of her life. However, she left a written will in which she stated that her three daughters were to keep her ashes in three equal parts that subsequently must be shared with three other people whose lives contain dark secrets. For instance, one of the recipients is Joao, their deceased father who abandoned them. In doing so, the three sisters—“Gloria” (Mercedes Sampietro), “Ana” (Adriana Ozores), and “Lidia” (Rosa Mariscal)—reconnect with their past and remember the solitude and absence of love during their childhood. The sisters, who all live in Madrid, have not spoken in years, and now have to travel to Galicia to revisit their past. At the same time, there are also many flashbacks making reference to their hidden pasts, which unveils a series of turbulent secrets that have marked their lives. This is the case of their father, Joao, who committed adultery with another woman and also incest with his daughter Gloria—it is ultimately revealed that their mother actually stabbed him to death. Additionally, the number three becomes a constant in the movie: love triangle, three sisters, three recipients, three main locations (the house, the sea, and the landscapes), and three major enigmas that will be unveiled. Cuando vuelvas a mi lado is often considered an example of Spanish feminist cinema. In addition to the strong portrayals of women and the recurring criticism toward elements of a machismo attitude throughout the whole film,

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there are also particularly negative characterizations of men in the movie, as they are mainly depicted as abusive, not only in their use of language, but also in hiding their secret affairs. See also La casa de Bernarda Alba (The House of Bernarda Alba); Felices 140 (Happy 140); Héctor (Hector); Gracia Querejeta (Appendix A); 15 años y un día (15 Years and One Day) —Enrique Ávila López

1 •  D  • EL DESCONOCIDO (RETRIBUTION) (2015) Director: Dani de la Torre Screenplay: Alberto Marini Specs: 102 minutes; color El desconocido tells the story of “Carlos” (Luis Tosar), a bank executive who receives an anonymous phone call while driving his children to school. The caller, “El Desconocido” (Javier Gutiérrez), informs Carlos he’s planted bombs in his car and threatens to detonate them if Carlos doesn’t give him €488,000. The film won Best Editing and Best Sound at the 2016 Premios Goya. A thriller set in A Coruña (Galicia), El desconocido’s aesthetics evoke the bleakness of an economic crisis created by fraudulent banking practices, while the script is written as a revenge narrative inspired by the masses of Spaniards affected by financial scams. The plot of the film revolves around Carlos’s attempts to meet the demand of his unknown interlocutor while keeping himself and his two children, “Sara” (Paula del Río) and “Marcos” (Marco Sanz), alive. The film opens with a sweeping shot of the coast where Carlos and his family reside in a modern mansion. Inside, the siblings taunt each other over breakfast, while marital strife between Carlos and his wife, “Marta” (Goya Toledo), is evident. Carlos decides to drop the kids off at school without telling Marta, highlighting their lack of communication and setting the plot in motion. Although the doors to his black BMW were unlocked when the trio entered the vehicle, Carlos doesn’t suspect anything is amiss until a cell phone that he doesn’t recognize rings, listing the caller as “unknown.” The caller informs Carlos of the explosive situation. He tells Carlos that he wants his money or he’ll blow up the car. Meanwhile, if any of them get out of their seats, the bombs, which are planted beneath their seats, will explode automatically. The caller demands that Carlos come up with €488,000: €68,000 in cash, which is the combined total of Carlos’s and his wife’s separate accounts, plus €420,000 transferred into a special account. Thinking he’s the butt of a joke, Carlos throws the phone down in disgust. However, reaching under his seat, his fingers touch a set of wires. Danger becomes real when he speaks to a colleague who claims to be in the same predicament. Carlos drives to where he is, and when his wife steps out of the car, it explodes. Marcos’s leg is punctured in the explosion, bleeding profusely. As Marcos’s condition deteriorates, Carlos makes earnest attempts to meet the caller’s demand, manipulating clients into giving him their money by promising them a 5 percent guaranteed return on a “no risk” investment fund. However, the ease with which Carlos is able to deploy banking tricks is contrasted with his inability to communicate with his wife—the only person who can withdraw their money from the bank and deliver it to the caller. The stalemate 120

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is resolved when Sara gives Carlos the phone number of the man with whom her mother—unbeknownst to Carlos—is having an affair. After convincing Marta of the situation, the money drop is thwarted when her lover alerts the police, setting off a car chase that ends with Carlos surrounded by the police. Tension between “Espinosa” (Fernando Cayo), the lead police inspector, and “Belén” (Elvira Mínguez), the boss of the bomb squad, results in confusion and Carlos becomes a suspect. Belén discovers that only the front seats have bombs under them, allowing the kids to walk free. Marcos is rushed to the hospital, but, worried for her father’s safety, Sara jumps into the passenger’s seat. Posing as Carlos’s brother, the police allow the caller to approach the car where he tells his story, implicating Carlos in the suicide of his wife after they lost all their money in an investment and the bank took their house. He reveals there is another bomb in the glove compartment on a timer before helping Carlos escape from the police. After Carlos admits his unethical behavior to Sara, he convinces her to exit the car while he keeps pressure on her seat. Once Sara leaves, the caller takes her place with a death wish meant to draw attention to all the people cheated by the banking system. With seconds remaining before the bomb in the glove compartment explodes, Carlos drives the car into the sea. Carlos survives the underwater explosion; the caller does not. The film ends with a reformed Carlos separated from both the bank and his wife, picking up his kids in an unpretentious secondhand car. See also Enterrado (Buried) —Scott Boehm

EL DESENCANTO (THE DISENCHANTMENT) (1976) Director: Jaime Chávarri Screenplay: Jaime Chávarri Specs: 97 minutes; black and white El desencanto is a documentary film written and directed by Jaime Chávarri about the family of Leopoldo Panero, a cultural functionary and poet laureate of the Franco regime. It presents the story of the Panero’s family told by themselves 12 years after the death of the patriarch. Although a censored version of the film was supposed to be premiered at the 1976 San Sebastián Film Festival, its producer, Elías Querejeta, withdrew it, giving into political pressures. Twenty years later, Ricardo Franco made a second part, Después de tantos años (After So Many Years) (2004). By then the mother (Felicidad Blanc) had already died, but the three brothers (Juan Luis, Leopoldo María, and Michi) were interviewed again. The origins of the film date back to 1974, during the waning days of the Franco dictatorship, when Michi Panero convinced his friend Jaime Chávarri and Spanish producer Elías Querejeta to make a documentary in memory of his father. Chávarri began to work on what he thought would be a documentary short. The occasion for the film was the unveiling of a statue of the deceased in his hometown of Astorga. El desencanto—which ended up spilling into a 91-minute feature—​consists mostly of static-shot interviews with the remaining members

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of the Paneros. The commemorative attempt soon vanished. The memory of the “beloved father” is tarnished by the shadow of the official poet of a dark regime, a patriarch of the model of Francoist family. When he finished the final cut, Chávarri thought he had simply produced an idiosyncratic portrait of a dysfunctional family with a self-consciously literary sense of itself. The presence/absence dynamics of the dead father is one of the film’s recurrent motifs. In spite of being its major subject, Leopoldo Panero turns out to be a visual lacuna, a theme that is established early on in the first sequences. This is fitting and intentional since the paterfamilias will not appear even once in the hour and a half of the film’s footage. Over the course of El desencanto, his absence becomes an increasing presence, even though his three sons underscore not only physical disappearance but also that of his legacy. Tellingly, the brothers allude to the end of the bloodline and there is the clear suggestion that they are impotent. We gather that none of the three siblings have borne an heir to the Panero legacy, a revelation that casts an altered light on the film: is El desencanto the last will and testament of a raza (race) soon to be extinct? The film is, among other things, the chronicle of a family, but also of a whole society during the demise of Franco’s regime. The director dissects with his knife the pustules, the fetidness, and the inertia of the Francoist ideology. In their intertwined testimonies, the poet’s widow and the couple’s three sons deal with family relations, the weight of their shared past, and themselves. Their contradictory memories eventually destroy the myth and unmask the decadence of Francoism and its most sacred institution. The hypocrisy of the family could only be revealed after the death of the patriarchs, Leopoldo Panero and Francisco Franco. With them, servitude to authoritarian figures vanished as well. The film’s appeal to the audience originates in exposing the decadence of a family that mirrors the decadence of an outdated social model on the eve of its final collapse. The widow’s and her eldest son’s attempts to preserve the myth of the lineage are bitterly undermined by the transgressive version of the younger sons. However, none of them seem to agree in their evocation of the dead father. Leopoldo María evokes childhood as the only happy period lived with his family. Michi, however, considers that period to be nothing but a myth, like the myth of the entire family history. The youngest of the Paneros embodies the authentic disenchantment that goes beyond the Peter Pan syndrome that defined the society and cinema of the democratic transition. In fact, the disenchantment the title alludes to is an expression that became extremely popular among sectors of the Spanish left by the mid-1970s. To a certain extent, El desencanto became a perfect metaphor for the discouragement and frustration that Spanish politics, after the dictator’s death, had generated in those who were most hopeful for political change. It is considered a seminal work among Spanish documentaries and has achieved cult status. Bibliography Moreiras-Menor, Cristina. La estela del tiempo: imagen e historicidad en el cine español contemporáneo. Madrid: Iberoamericana, 2011. Vilarós, Teresa M. El mono del desencanto: una crítica cultural de la transición española. Madrid: Siglo XXI, 1998.

—Santiago Juan-Navarro

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EL DÍA DE LA BESTIA (THE DAY OF THE BEAST) (1995) Director: Álex de la Iglesia Screenplay: Álex de la Iglesia and Jorge Guerricaechevarría Specs: 103 minutes; color This satanic horror comedy, directed by Álex de la Iglesia, focuses on the adventures of a Basque priest, “Ángel Berriatúa” (Álex Angulo), who, upon discovering a secret message in St. John’s Book of Revelation, moves to Madrid in order to prevent the Apocalypse. According to Berriatúa, the Antichrist will be born on December 25, 1995, in the capital of Spain. So the priest begins committing a number of “sins” in order to contact the devil. El día de la bestia won the Best Movie and the Best Editing awards at the Círculo de Escritores Cinematográficos (Cinema Writers Circle) and six Goya awards—Best Director, Best New Actor, Best Sound, Best Production Design, Best Makeup and Hairstyles, and Best Special Effects—in 1996. In Madrid, Berriatúa meets “José María” (Santiago Segura), a fan of death metal music who helps him in his desperate attempt to avoid the catastrophe. During the search to find the birthplace of the Antichrist, the two come across “Limpia Madrid” (Clean Up Madrid), a fascist group that carries out violent attacks on immigrants and homeless people. Later on, the duo is joined by “Professor Cavan” (Armando de Razza), an alleged psychic who runs a television program of the so-called occult sciences and helps them to contact the demon. It is worth mentioning that the solid cast of this cult black comedy succeeds in bal-

Álex Angulo. Trimark Pictures / Photofest © Trimark Pictures

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ancing innocence, ruthlessness, and ingenuity: Angulo is endearing as the “bad” priest, Segura is amazing as a lout head-banger, and Razza skillfully shapes a convincing caricature of the clairvoyant. After a failed invocation of Satan, these three “wise” men carry on a hilarious journey through the city, searching for a signal to locate where the son of the devil will be born. Rather than comprising a flat background, the streets of Madrid are, indeed, essential to the story line. There is unforgettable scene shot at the Carrion Building, also called the Capitol Building, in which the three heroes hang from a huge neon Schweppes sign above the Gran Vía. This sequence is considered a classic in Spanish filmmaking. Moreover, the representation of the urban space in the movie can be read as an acid critique on the capitalist economy. Eventually, Professor Cavan discovers that the birth of the Antichrist will be in the building known as the Gate of Europe, also named the KIO Towers because they were commissioned by the Kuwait Investments Office. The towers, located in the AZCA financial center and near the Four Towers Business Area (CTBA), are famous for being one of the first inclined skyscrapers made in the world and because their construction was associated with an economic fraud (the Urbanor case) in Spain. Hence, according to de la Iglesia’s film, the naissance of the devil takes place in the heart of a modern monetary district, the commercial and business area located at the north of the city center along the wide avenue Paseo de la Castellana. El día de la bestia, then, converges social commentary and a parody of the horror genre. In this context, the vicious attacks of Limpia Madrid against the underprivileged, the marginalized from the economic system, can be seen not merely as isolated acts of violence but as part of a social structure based on exclusion and inequality. Limpia Madrid represents the hidden dark side of the market economy: the repression of those who can’t access the monetary circuit. For this reason, El día de la bestia is a sharp comedy about the financial system, marginalization, corruption, and urban speculation because, as presented by the plot, the origin of evil—the end of humanity—is found in a building that symbolizes current production and economic activities. See also Acción mutante (Mutant Action); Balada triste de trompeta (The Last Circus); Las brujas de Zugarramurdi (Witching & Bitching); La comunidad (Common Wealth); Crimen Ferpecto (The Perfect Crime); Álex de la Iglesia (Appendix A); Torrente, el brazo tonto de la ley (Torrente, the Dumb Arm of the Law) Bibliography Buse, Peter, Núria Triana-Toribio, and Andrew Willis. The Cinema of Álex de la Iglesia. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012. Lázaro-Reboll, Antonio. Spanish Horror Film. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2012. Willis, Andrew. “From the Margins to the Mainstream: Trends in Recent Spanish Horror Cinema.” Spanish Popular Cinema (2004): 237–49.

—Vania Barraza

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UN DÍA PERFECTO (A PERFECT DAY) (2015) Director: Fernando León de Aranoa Screenplay: Fernando León de Aranoa in collaboration with Diego Farias, based on a novel by Paula Farias Specs: 106 minutes; color Un día perfecto is a 2015 film directed by Fernando León de Aranoa and starring an international award-winning cast. The film follows the adventures of a group of aid workers during the Balkan conflict as they try to get a dead body out of the last remaining working water well in the area. The location of the film is set as “somewhere in the Balkans in 1995,” with mostly fictional names of towns. The film won the prize for Best Adapted Screenplay at the Premios Goya 2016, where it received eight nominations, including Best Film, Best Director, and Best Supporting Actor. The film is an adaptation of Paula Farias’s novel Dejarse Llover, published in 2005. The title is a play on the Spanish phrase dejarse llevar, which can be translated as “to go with the flow”—an idea relevant throughout the film as the characters seem unable to solve a fairly simple problem, getting a dead body out of a water well, and with each obstacle they have to “go with the flow.” The leader of the group is “Mambrú” (Academy Award winner Benicio del Toro), a playboy Puerto Rican aid worker for the fictitious Aid across Borders organization who is supposed to be returning home soon. The name Mambrú comes from a children’s nursery rhyme “Mambrú se fue a la Guerra” (from the

Benicio Del Toro. IFC Films / Photofest © IFC Films

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French Marlbrough s’en va-t-en guerre), which translates as “Malbrook [Malborough] went to war.” The rhyme asks when Mambrú will be returning home from war, but he never does. The book’s dedication is to Mambrú: “wherever he may be.” Mambrú is joined in the film by “Damir” (Fedja Stukan), the local interpreter, as they try to remove the body from the well using a rope. However, the rope snaps, starting a thread of events that seem like anecdotes from war-torn localities. The film introduces “B” (Academy Award winner Tim Robbins) as an eccentric and experienced aid worker and “Sophie” (Mélanie Thierry), a naïve French aid worker on her first mission. Later on, two more characters are introduced: a young local boy named “Nikola” (Eldar Residovic), who lives with his grandfather; and a second female character named “Katya” (Olga Kurylenko), a Russian who arrived to do a consultation on the mission and close it down. The story incorporates numerous scenes of tension between Mambrú and Katya, as they are former lovers. The story unravels in roughly 24 hours, as the group travels in two vehicles through narrow mountainside roads, trying different avenues to acquire rope to retrieve the dead body from the well but failing every time: locals, hostile to their presence, refuse to sell them rope; a military post prefers to fly a flag than lend the rope; local militia block road; and a growling dog is tied at one end of a perfect rope. They finally manage to get rope at Nikola’s bombed house during the film’s most sobering scene, as they find that his parents have been hanged for being a multiethnic/multireligious family. The rope they get is the one from which the bodies were hanging. The film travels through deserted towns, bombed roads, and recently setup cemeteries full of graves. Twice they have to stop because a dead cow is in the middle of the road, and they are forced to spend a night inside the cars in the middle of the countryside, as they fear it is a trap and landmines have been planted in and/or around the dead animal. They manage to overcome these small obstacles, but, much to their despair, they do not manage to get the body out of the well, as the UN blue helmets claim such a move is out of their jurisdiction. They leave the water well with the dead body still inside. In the last scenes, the group is directed to solve another situation with blocked latrines at a nearby refugee camp. B comments that the job should be fairly easy, as long as it does not rain—just as rain starts pouring down. Sophie says the phrase “a perfect day” as a sarcastic response to their bad luck and inability to do their job properly, and as a reference to the title of the film. The film then takes us to all the different characters and locations visited throughout the story, all of which are being rained on. It finally stops at the well, which the rain is filling up with water, bringing the dead body to the surface. The local people simply pull it out as it reaches the top. The ending makes a connection with the title of the book in Spanish, Dejarse Llover or “let it rain,” and it links up with the play on words to “go with the flow.” The film keeps to the overall theme of the book and follows a number of the anecdotes that appear in it, many of which come from the author’s personal experience. Farias has worked in humanitarian aid for many years, including in coordinating roles for Doctors without Borders (Médecins sans frontières). However,

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the film also greatly diverts from it. The book is told from a first-person point of view, that of the main male character, making the stories within it vivid and genuine. Nevertheless, the film gets rid of this and simply follows the adventures of the characters. The most striking difference, however, is the introduction of the two female characters and the storyline between Mambrú and Katya. In the latest version of the book, a prologue written by León de Aranoa makes it clear that Farias had an important role in the consultation process for the film and was even present during some of the shooting, meeting the actors and sharing a round table conversation with them—suggesting she condones the changes to the script. See also Fernando León de Aranoa (Appendix A) —Esteban Devis-Amaya

DÍAS CONTADOS (RUNNING OUT OF TIME) (1994) Director: Imanol Uribe Screenplay: Imanol Uribe, based on a novel by Juan Madrid Specs: 93 minutes; color Días contados (Running Out of Time) is a 1994 feature film by Imanol Uribe, who also wrote the screenplay based on the novel of the same name by Juan Madrid from 1993. Starring Javier Bardem, Candela Peña, Carmelo Gómez, and Ruth Gabriel, it was nominated for 19 Goya Awards in 1994 and won eight, including Best Movie, Best Director, Best Adapted Screenplay, and Best Actor, as well as the Concha de Oro (Golden Shell) for Best Movie and the Concha de la Plata (Silver Shell) for Best Actor (Bardem) at the San Sebastián Film Festival in 1994. The main character, “Antonio” (Carmelo Gómez), portrays an Euskadi Ta Askatasuna terrorist who is sent to Madrid in order to blow up a police station, even though he is already rather estranged from the separatist group at the moment of the incident. Upon arriving at the Spanish capital, posing as a press photographer, he falls for a heroin-addicted prostitute, “Charo” (Ruth Gabriel), and begins a romantic relationship with her that seems to endanger the planned terrorist attack. After having shot a police officer, he escapes with his lover to Granada, portraying it to her as a romantic getaway. On his return to Madrid, Charo’s drug-addicted friend “Lisardo” (Javier Bardem), who happens to be a police informant, has told a corrupt cop about Antonio after his identity was revealed on television. As the title suggests, the film ends tragically with Charo arriving at the police station seconds after the terrorist group activates the car bomb that is going to explode at the station. Antonio, overwhelmed by his feelings and guilt, desperately chases the car, knowing that there is nothing he can do but add his own death to the carnage, illustrating the senselessness not only of the act of terrorism but also of the entire ideology of the group. While the film focuses on both the Basque terrorism that was haunting Spain and the drug-related problems society faced in that era, the original novel it is based on does not even mention the ETA but is rather a portrayal, stripped of any kind of euphemism, of the beginning of the 1990s and the end of the so-called movida madrileña, a countercultural movement that was initiated after the fall

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of the Franco regime that took place mainly in Madrid and involved, along with a newfound freedom of speech and contravention of social taboos, an extensive recreational use of drugs, particularly heroin. In this way, the film is an example of the cultural contagion in which the book’s more innocent and general topic is turned violent by inclusion of the bloody national context. Imanol Uribe, in addition, chose to take a risky approach to ETA history that presents it from a neutral point of view. Critics have been of mixed opinion about this decision, one side insisting that it was morally wrong to forgo an explicit condemnation of the terrorist acts, which might even lead to idealizing the main character for the quality of his humanity, and the other praising the fact that, through this neutrality, the spectator himself is able to condemn the incidents under his own moral light. The latter have also applauded the magnificent acting, the denunciation of male chauvinism, the film’s well-balanced rhythm and tempo, and its portrayal of a gray Madrid represented as a universal and generic capital, reserving the only colorful brushstrokes for Granada and particularly apportioning the color red to Charo as a wink to Carmen from Bizet’s opera. Uribe is certainly to be commended for conveying the powerful and intimate portrait of post-Franco Madrid, but the core accomplishment of the film is unquestionably how he has been able to transform a story that had nothing to do with Basque terror into a totally different one that nevertheless conserves the spirit of the original and connects its social concerns, such as the inescapability of the life of prostitution and drugs, the exploitation of the lower class, sexism, and the glimmers of the movida madrileña, with more immediately dire and seemingly equally inescapable social developments. In this context, it is hard to say whether the meaningless deaths, in their aesthetic poignancy, are really any different from the slower massacres that entrenched social inequality has been causing throughout history, and hence just who or what it is that is running out of time. See also Candela Peña (Appendix A) —Laura Hatry

10.000 KM (10,000 KM) (2014) Director: Carlos Marqués-Marcet Screenplay: Carlos Marqués-Marcet and Clara Roquet Specs: 93 minutes; color 10.000 km is a 2014 film directed by Carlos Marqués-Marcet, who belongs to the youngest generation of filmmakers of contemporary Spain. 10.000 km is his first feature-length movie, for which he has received many national and international awards, including Spain’s Goya Award for Best New Director, the American Independents Audience Award, and five Málaga Film Festival honors. 10.000 km features the deterioration of a long-distance relationship in the new digital era. The main protagonist, “Alexandra” (Natalia Tena, a British actor and musician of Spanish descent), receives a one-year fellowship to continue

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Natalia Tena and David Verdaguer. Broad Green Pictures / Photofest © Broad Green Pictures

her photography studies abroad, in what facilitates a long-distance relationship with “Sergi” (David Verdaguer). While they both try hard to keep their love alive through modern technology, the realities of long-distance communication hamper their emotional bonds. Despite the wonders of the digital age, the yearning for intimate interaction is only belied by the superficial imagery of live videos, still pictures, and messaging. Most critics make mention of the incredible first 20 minutes of the movie— a rivetingly explicit morning sex scene followed by a postcoital discussion in which the drama of their seven-year-long relationship is gently presented: they are trying to have a baby. Interrupting the lazy depictions of sleepy weekend in bed, news of Alex’s grant to study in Los Angeles suddenly arrives via email, ultimately rearranging their lives and putting distance between them—Alex to be newly situated in Los Angeles, while Sergi remains in Spain. The couple initially makes use of digital technology to maintain their relationship, but eventually Alex—through the somewhat disingenuous encouragement of Sergi—begins to explore her new surroundings, sending Sergi into an anxiety-filled depression. At times he stalks Alex though her social media posts and at others he simply drinks himself into loneliness. For the majority of the film, Sergi remains in his tiny apartment in Barcelona, until the last 15 minutes of the movie when he surprises Alex with an unexpected visit to her condominium in Los Angeles. Upon their reunion, all the emails, chats, video conferencing, time difference, and the lingering suspicions that emerged between them are rendered irrelevant. Although something has certainly changed between the two, it only afforded them a new, if not altogether different, relationship. For Alex and Sergi, the meaning of love acquires another dimension for both when technology is no longer involved.

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Marqués-Marcet describes 10.000 km as not just a story of the present times but also a story about the times unfolding before the digital generation. Indeed, the film taps into the experience of what many Spaniards see as a population of youth in crisis, rife with uncertainty, yet paradoxically, it is the most advanced and well-educated generation in the history of Spain. See also Hermosa juventud (Beautiful Youth) Bibliography Montoya, Àlex. “Para dudar de los asuntos del corazón.” Fotogramas. 2014. http://www .fotogramas.es/Peliculas/10.000-KM (October 12, 2015).

—Enrique Ávila López

¡DISPARA! (OUTRAGE!) (1993) Director: Carlos Saura Screenplay: Carlos Saura, Enzo Monteleone, and Giorgio Scerbanenco Specs: 103 minutes; color ¡Dispara! is the 28th film of Carlos Saura, one of the most acclaimed and popular directors of contemporary Spain, who produced works such as Bodas de sangre (Blood Wedding, 1981), ¡Ay, Carmela! (1990), and Goya en Burdeos (Goya in Bordeaux, 1999). The film, initially presented at the 1993 Venice Film Festival, received critical acclaim for Francesca Neri’s performance. The story—an adaptation from Giorgio Scerbanenco’s short tale “Spara che ti passa”—is set in Madrid and narrates about “Ana” (Francesca Neri), a very attractive equestrian circus performer and sharpshooter. A journalist, “Marcos” (Antonio Banderas), is enchanted by her beauty and asks her for an interview after the show. Ana and Marcos soon like each other—a particular detail emphasized by the frequent alternating close-ups and reaction shots of the two of them. Ana and Marcos gradually fall in love and continue their relationship interwoven into the world of the circus life. During one night’s show, three boys who once worked as mechanics for the circus disturb Ana’s performance and then attempt to approach her when she is returning to her trailer. They return later in the night during a storm and rape her. This sequence (juxtaposing the images and music of a rock video to Ana’s screams and the depiction of her naked body being shared by the three molesters) does not focus on the explicit details of the rape but instead conveys the realistic brutality of her violation. After hours of desperation and pain (in a scene that depicts precisely the sufferings of a woman subjected to sexual violence), Ana takes revenge into her own hands by killing the three boys with her rifle. In this scene, Ana demonstrates a cold brutality and the rage of a wounded animal. Indeed, she has been gravely wounded during the abuse and is suffering from internal bleeding. She later visits a physician, who then reports the rape to the police. While wandering on a country road, Ana is then stopped by two police officers, but in the confusion of her encounter, she fires on them—an action that she commits unwillingly and regrets instantly. On the run, Ana finds refuge in a farmhouse with a small family, whom she takes as hostages. In the meantime,

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Marcos discovers that something terrible occurred in Ana’s trailer and, after receiving a desperate call from her, attempts to trace her. Learning from the news of the attack on the two police officers, Marcos is convinced of Ana’s guilt and he finally reaches the police who are besieging the farmhouse she hides in. Ana, who is particularly weak because of her wound, is finally shot by a policeman and Marcos intervenes only in time for her to die in his arms. ¡Dispara! reveals Saura’s careful attention to detail and his artistic mastery of the medium. Exemplary of this is the use of lights, from those sequences representing Ana’s backlit performance on horse to the slow and pale dawn in which Ana’s revenge is enacted and that covers the city of Madrid and the characters’ faces (and emotions) with a blue veil. Ana, both victim and ruthless executioner, slowly slips toward her tragic end, incapable of altering the course of events precipitated by violence. ¡Dispara! offers a tragic and moving narrative with no possibility of final salvation or redemption. See also ¡Ay, Carmela! (Ay, Carmela!); Bodas de sangre (Blood Wedding); Cría cuervos (Raise Ravens); Elisa, vida mía (Elisa, My Life); Goya en Burdeos (Goya in Bordeaux); Carlos Saura (Appendix A); El 7º día (The 7th Day) —Antonio Sanna

EL DISPUTADO VOTO DEL SEÑOR CAYO (MR. CAYO’S CONTESTED VOTE) (1986) Director: Antonio Giménez-Rico Screenplay: Antonio Giménez-Rico and Manolo Matji, based on a novel by Miguel Delibes Specs: 94 minutes; black and white and color El disputado voto del señor Cayo (Mr. Cayo’s Contested Vote) is a 1986 feature film by Antonio Giménez-Rico that combines black-and-white with color shooting. The director himself, together with Manolo Matji, adapted the screenplay from Miguel Delibes’s 1978 novel of the same name. The film stars Francisco Rabal, Juan Luis Galiardo, Iñaki Miramón, and Lydia Bosch, and was nominated for the 1986 Goya Award in the category of Best Original Score. The film takes place in the Spanish province of Castile and León, a mainly rural area in the northern part of the country. The framework of the film is the presentday setting of 1986, shot in black and white, when two of the main characters, “Rafa” (Iñaki Miramón) and “Laly” (Lydia Bosch), meet at the funeral of a third, “Víctor” (Juan Luis Galiardo), and commemorate a campaign tour the three of them took right before the 1977 democratic elections, the first ones after the fall of the Franco regime. This recollection is divided into four extensive flashbacks, shot in color, which constitute the main part of the movie. During this trip, the three party members drive to a small village to campaign for the PSOE (Spanish Socialist Workers’ Party), but upon arriving they discover that most inhabitants have abandoned it and that only one senior citizen, “Mr. Cayo” (Francisco Rabal), remains there along with his deaf wife and one neighbor. Initially, they hold all kind of prejudices about the rural world, which soon turn into astonishment at Mr. Cayo’s ancestral knowledge and self-sufficiency, especially for Víctor, the candidate, who slowly comes

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to realize that he can offer little with which to enlighten this potential voter. He therefore does not, contrary to Rafa, attempt to win his vote but opts instead to get acquainted with the ways of country life. As they are about to leave the village, a group of fascist campaigners arrives and physically assaults the socialists, who leave after Víctor promises Mr. Cayo that he will be back at some point. The encounter marks the candidate deeply and drives him to what Laly describes as a “lucid drunkenness,” during which he recognizes the absurdity of trying to impose his ideas on the rural populace, given that they are autarchic, and he isn’t. The film reveals that, as a result of his disenchantment, he withdrew from politics soon after the elections. Rafa, on the other hand, is shown in the present day as a member of parliament and ensconced in the comfortable life of politicians, a touch that appears to be a slight critique of the political system and how little politicians care about the citizens they claim to represent. The film concludes with Laly urging Rafa to go back to the village to give Mr. Cayo a lighter that Víctor wanted him to have, though it is self-evident that this is rather a pretext to have someone check on Mr. Cayo. Rafa first dismisses her plea as absurd but ends up driving to the village, where he finds the elderly man critically ill and by now completely alone, his wife and neighbor having died. Yet again, the system has failed the ones who are supposedly protected by it. Rafa calls an ambulance to take Mr. Cayo to a hospital, and as he leaves his house, he comes across a poster of Víctor from the 1977 campaign, which should be interpreted as a sign that Mr. Cayo did vote for the Socialist Party. The film functions as a continuation of Delibes’s novel, which results in both works being set in their corresponding present, and involves, therefore, not only an argumentative but also a structural transformation in the form of the flashbacks illustrated by the switching between black and white and color. The film is successful exactly because it recognized the book’s need for a prolongation and conclusion, and even though many aspects of post-Franco society are criticized, there is also a positive message in that the transition from dictatorship to democracy, nine years after the first free elections, has been completely consolidated, in spite of—perhaps even reflected by—such flaws as might be endemic to the latter. It is rarely the case with serious literature in its relation to film, but the present example makes a good case for a book and a film that are both enhanced if they are experienced as a whole. —Laura Hatry

DON QUIJOTE DE ORSON WELLES (ORSON WELLES’ DON QUIXOTE) (1992) Director: Jesús Franco Screenplay: Orson Welles and Jesús Franco, based on the novel El ingenioso hidalgo don Quijote de la Mancha, by Miguel de Cervantes Specs: 111 minutes; black and white Jesús Franco’s Don Quijote de Orson Welles (Orson Welles’ Don Quixote) is a 1992 reworking of the legendary American director’s film footage for an un-

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finished adaptation of Miguel de Cervantes’s 17th-century classic, El ingenioso hidalgo don Quijote de la Mancha. Franco assembled the film from an unedited collection of 35mm and 16mm footage captured intermittently by Welles in Mexico, Spain, and Italy between 1957 and 1972. Franco’s chief contributions to the movie are its narrative structure, for which the American left neither a script nor notes, and all but 20 minutes of the soundtrack. The result is a broad adaptation of the first volume of Don Quixote (1605) and a completely distinct cinematic homage to the novel’s more self-referential second volume (1615). The film begins with José Mediavilla’s voice-over of the famous opening passage of Don Quixote, which in the English version bears a similarity to the voice of Welles. After a 20-minute sequence that roughly follows the novel in introducing the eponymous hero (Francisco Reiguera) and his squire, “Sancho Panza” (Akim Tamiroff), the film introduces its principal deviation from Cervantes’s plot: Don Quixote’s encounter with modernity. While journeying down a country road, the pair suddenly encounters a woman on a Vespa. In typical Cervantine fashion, Don Quixote imagines a princess held captive by a monstrous machine, while the driver of the scooter goes from shock to annoyance at the ravings of her self-proclaimed deliverer. This 20th-century variant on the original quixotic theme is followed by a series of episodes gleaned from the novel, most prominently from chapters 18 (in which Don Quixote imagines flocks of sheep to be opposing armies) and 8 (the encounter with the windmills he believes to be giants). The latter scene, perhaps the best known in the novel, features original elements added by Franco: the animation of the windmills and grotesque inserts from Francisco Goya’s Witches’ Sabbath (1798). These two recognizable scenes take place amid conversations between knight and squire drawn from the first 10 chapters of the novel, as well as a beating at the hands of Holy Week processionaries in capirotes—an apparent amalgam of different pummelings suffered by Don Quixote in chapters 9 (the Basque), 15 (the Yanguesans), and 17 (the officer of the Holy Brotherhood at the inn). The second half of the 115-minute film is a radical departure from Cervantes’s original story but remains faithful to the writer’s revolutionary use of reflexivity. Sent by his master to deliver a message to Dulcinea (part II, chapter 10), Sancho finds himself in a mélange of the modern cities of Seville and Pamplona making a series of perplexing discoveries: the telescope, the radio, the television, the airplane, the missile. Wandering through these urban landscapes, he also encounters the traditional Spanish festivals of Seville’s Holy Week and Pamplona’s Running of the Bulls. This long absurdist sequence is intercut with scenes of Orson Welles himself with a voice-over (now Welles’s actual voice) commenting on Don Quixote’s archetypal value as a symbol of old Spain. The two seemingly disparate elements meet in an eminently Cervantine moment: a ceremony in Seville honoring the great American auteur, during which it is announced that he will soon depart for Pamplona to begin work on a new movie based on the novel Don Quixote. Carrying this metafictional artifice a step even further, Sancho is shown taking direction from Welles as a voice-over explains that the squire has been able to earn some extra money as an actor in an American movie. Sancho is subsequently shown approaching Welles as he films from

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an automobile, only to be shooed away by the director, who inexplicably appears not to recognize him. In the final 10 minutes of the movie, Sancho and Don Quixote are reunited when the squire frees his master from an oxcart where he has been imprisoned (a reference to part I, chapter 46). The pair then comes across a reenactment of a Reconquista battle between Christians and Moors in which the knight, of course, intervenes (perhaps an allusion to the puppet show scene in part II, chapter 26). Riding through the city after his “victory,” Don Quixote is greeted by cheering crowds. He soon becomes disillusioned, however, when it is revealed that his admirers are reacting to him as the hero of the movie a nearby Welles has been filming all along. The disheartened Don Quixote laments the demonic power of the camera, which has robbed him of any true glory. And unlike the Don Quixote who renounces his folly at the end of the novel, the antihero’s unrepentant cinematic reincarnation ends the film by speculating that he and Sancho might make use of another modern invention, the rocket ship, to see if there might still be a place for knight-errantry on the moon. See also El caballero Don Quijote (Don Quixote, Knight Errant); Honor de cavalleria (Honor of the Knights/Quixotic) —Eric L. Reinholtz

DOÑA PERFECTA (DOÑA PERFECTA) (1977) Director: César Fernández Ardavín Screenplay: César Fernández Ardavín, based on a play by Benito Pérez Galdós Specs: 90 minutes; color Set in the early 1870s, this film depicts the clash between rural traditionalism and progressive liberalism unleashed when the young engineer arrives in the backwater town of Orbajosa to wed his cousin. The film is an adaptation of Benito Pérez Galdós’s 1876 realist novel Doña Perfecta. Considered among the prolific writer’s best works, the story captures perfectly the ideological conflict between the so-called Two Spains and has been adapted for stage two times: first by Galdós in 1896, and more recently by Ernesto Caballero de las Heras in 2012. Before Ardavín’s version, the Mexican director brought the work to the screen in 1950 in an adaptation set in the 19th century starring Dolores del Rio. The plot of Ardavín’s film is faithful to the novel: upon arrival in Orbajosa from Madrid, “José ‘Pepe’ Rey” (Manuel Sierra) is received by his aunt, “Doña Perfecta” (Julia Gutiérrez Caba), and cousin “Rosario” (Victoria Abril). The opening sequence continues in a parlor where Pepe meets Perfecta’s confessor, “Don Inocencio” (José Luís López Vázquez), and reunites with his uncle, “Don Cayetano” (José Orjas), a half-crazed amateur historian. The tension with the priest is registered from this first encounter and continues in crescendo throughout the film in dialogue taken verbatim from Galdós’s text. Smitten from the beginning, the affair between Rosario and Pepe grows, while Don Inocencio—seeing his plan to marry the young heiress to his lawyer-nephew “Jacinto” (Emilio Gutiér-

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rez Caba) about to fail—works to turn Perfecta and the town against the liberal engineer. In spite of the growing romance, the conflict with his aunt and her allies makes Pepe’s life in Orbajosa almost unbearable except for afternoons spent with the lively “Troya” sisters (Mirta Miller, María Kosty, and Ana Farra). The situation, though, soon changes when government troops arrive from Madrid to quell a potential uprising by conservative factions in and around Orbajosa, and it turns out one of the officials is one of Pepe’s old friends, “Pinzón” (Víctor Valverde). Encounters between the young lovers in the parlor and garden culminate in a lovemaking scene in Rosario’s bedroom. Figured as conscious act of rebellion against the domineering mother, Rosario’s indiscretion becomes the catalyst that drives the film to its tragic conclusion. When Perfecta finds out about the liaison by way of gossip, she turns definitively against her nephew and incites the local henchman to kill Pepe as he flees the garden during a nighttime rendezvous with his cousin. In the film’s last scene, the sound of the shot that takes the life of the young engineer dissolves into the noise of more gunfire, signaling the start of an armed conflict in Orbajosa between the government army and local factions. Doña Perfecta is the third and least successful of Ardavín’s attempts to bring a masterpiece of Spanish literature to the screen. Praised for its careful re-creation of the period and successful transposition of certain key scenes in the novels, the 1977 adaptation, nonetheless, presents a superficial treatment of the plot and characters. The filmmaker makes concessions to the context of the Transition, and especially to the so-called Destape, with two notable changes to the storyline. He transforms a fleeting kiss into a sex scene between Pepe and Rosario, perhaps not to miss the opportunity to feature Victoria Abril in the nude. Likewise, by casting sex symbols Mirta Miller, María Kosty, and Ana Farra in the roles of the Troya sisters, the screenplay makes explicit what in the novel is merely suggested about the livelihoods of the three women. Bibliography Faulkner, Sally. “Rehearsing for Democracy in Dictatorship Spain: Middlebrow Period Drama 1970–77.” In Middlebrow Cinema, edited by Sally Faulkner, 88–106. New York: Routledge, 2016.

—David R. George Jr.

1 •  E  • LAS EDADES DE LULÚ (THE AGES OF LULU) (1990) Director: Bigas Luna Screenplay: Almudena Grandes Specs: 95 minutes; color Las edades de Lulú is the eighth film by Bigas Luna, Spanish designer and director of 18 films, which are renowned internationally for their strong emphasis on Mediterranean machismo, their focus on eroticism, and their attention to the consumption of food. Las edades de Lulú, based on the best-selling novel by Almudena Grandes, is an erotic drama set in Madrid and focused on the sexual awakening of young “Lulú” (Francesca Neri). The narrative follows the girl’s sexual experiences from her loss of virginity to the exploration of a series of erotic practices that include voyeurism, bondage, love triangles, the use of sex toys, and sadomasochism. From the first scene (portraying a close-up of a newborn’s genitalia), the film focuses on sex as central in the life of the protagonist. Las edades de Lulú is mainly a repetitive sum of sequences depicting the girl’s sexual adventures over the years, whereas the brief narrative blocks between the sex scenes (such as her marriage and a quarrel with “Pablo”) do not add much to the development of the characters. The sequences focused on sex are instead quite explicit but never actually obscene; they only border on pornography, especially for their close-ups on the characters’ genital areas and the fetishistic attention to their body parts. A woman’s voice and desires take central place in the narrative, a thematic concern that is made explicit through the choice to assign the voice-over to the female protagonist, who intervenes frequently throughout the film by narrating (and commenting on) the story. The costumes are very realistic, but their colors are never vivid. Similarly, the décor shows a predominance of pastel colors, whereas red and electric blue lights are frequently used for the sex sequences. The narrative begins with Lulú’s first date with her brother’s best friend, Pablo (Óscar Ladoire). The young girl is portrayed as naïve, embarrassed, and inexperienced. Her dress reflects the prudish nature of her character. After some years of study in America, Pablo returns to Spain and the couple decides to marry. Their dedication to each other is reflected in the sex scenes, which alternate the girl’s explicit affirmation of luxurious desires to the mutual declarations of love—these are the only words audible over the soundtrack covering all other noises in such sequences. During the conjugal life of the couple, Lulú develops an attraction for transvestites and, together with Pablo, they meet the transgender prostitute “Ely” (María Barranco, who won the Goya Award for Best Supporting Actress for her role), with whom they become close friends. Lulú’s decent toward continuous erotic experimentation and the seduction of the senses is progressive; her experience is depicted as a dependence on sex rather than a need for perver136

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sion and unconventionality. Over the story, she thus evolves into a mature and fascinating woman, confident in her body and her seductive abilities, although she never becomes completely independent, especially from her husband, Pablo. After being unconsciously involved in a sexual triangle while blindfolded and discovering that the other man was her brother, “Marcelo” (Fernando Guillén Cuervo), Lulú decides to leave Pablo, taking with her their young daughter, who is actually given a very marginal role in the story. Lulú experiences an initial period of loneliness and suffering, but then she begins to watch porn films, especially gay porn films, and becomes obsessed with gay men, searching for them in the streets of Madrid during the night and offering them money in order to watch them while having sex or joining them in orgiastic parties. Subsequently she contacts the pimp “Remy” (Juan Grael) to find more money for her sexual adventures and ends up in a sadomasochistic orgy in which she is bound against her will and raped until Ely, who had previously realized Lulú’s troubles, intervenes. Ely is killed by “Jimmy” (Javier Bardem), a gay man Lulú encountered in one of her nocturnal excursions, a few minutes before the police intervene. In the final scene of the film, Pablo supports a crying Lulú and the couple supposedly reunites. See also Javier Bardem (Appendix A); Josep Joan Bigas Luna (Appendix A); Jamón, Jamón (Jamon, Jamon); Tatuaje (Tattoo); La teta y la luna (The Tit and the Moon) —Antonio Sanna

LA EDUCACIÓN DE LAS HADAS (THE EDUCATION OF FAIRIES) (2006) Director: José Luis Cuerda Screenplay: José Luis Cuerda Specs: 103 minutes; color In this intimate drama by José Luis Cuerda, based on the novel L’éducation d’une fée (2000) by Didier van Cauwelaert, “Nicolás” (Ricardo Darín) is a lonesome toy designer flying back home from a business trip. On the airplane he meets an eight-year-old boy, “Raúl” (Víctor Valdivia), and his beautiful mother, “Ingrid” (Irene Jacob). He immediately falls in love with both of them: “Esta mañana a las 10:50 en punto, me enamoré, de dos personas a la vez” (“This morning at exactly 10:50 a.m., I fell in love, with two people at once”). Ingrid is an ornithologist specializing in carrier pigeons, as Raúl informs Nicolás—a detail Nicolás takes note of, sending her a carrier pigeon in order to get in touch with her a second time. A relationship emerges between Nicolás and Ingrid and the two soon marry. Nicolás and Raúl also develop a close relationship, even prompting Nicolás to want to adopt him. Their two first years as a family are very happy; however, one day Ingrid decides to separate from Nicolás without an apparent reason. Dealing with the separation, Nicolás maintains his commitment to Raúl, accompanying him through the fumbles of growing up and trying to understand the limits between reality and fantasy. Along the way, “Sezar” (Bebe), an Algerian

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Víctor Valdivia, Irene Jacob, and Ricardo Darín. Mongrel Media / Photofest © Mongrel Media

supermarket cashier, is introduced—a woman rife with tragic encounters in her past and a drive to complete her studies in higher education. Nicolás draws the curiosity of Raúl and Sezar’s wish to move forward beyond her past together, revealing his talents of making different interests, intentions, and emotions work to the benefit of all. La educación de las hadas is a magical exploration of love and the foibles that accompany its absence. Filled with poetic imagery framing the trials of becoming an adult, the film also showcases the power of catharsis, imagination, dreams, and hope in helping humanity cope with the cruelty of everyday life. Above all, Ricardo Darín’s portrayal of the protagonist, Nicolás, as a very sensitive man, an engaged father, a loving husband, and a good friend is truly a convincing performance that darns the fabric of the film’s many narratives together. See also Así en el cielo como en la tierra (On Earth as It Is in Heaven); El bosque animado (The Enchanted Forest); Los girasoles ciegos (The Blind Sunflowers); El lápiz del carpintero (The Carpenter’s Pencil) —Maribel Cedeño Rojas

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ELISA, VIDA MÍA (ELISA, MY LIFE) (1976) Director: Carlos Saura Screenplay: Carlos Saura Specs: 122 minutes; color Elisa, vida mía was directed and written by Carlos Saura in 1976. The film, as described by Saura himself, is the story of two human beings finding each other again—a father’s gradual domination of his daughter as they exchange experiences and secrets of their pasts. Elisa, vida mía centers on “Luis” (Fernando Rey), a translator and teacher who lives in the Castilian countryside. He had abandoned his wife and daughters many years earlier to live the life of an ascetic and has begun to live his last years of life writing a book and teaching theater in a school for nuns. On his birthday, his daughters, “Isabel” (Isabel Mestres) and “Elisa” (Geraldine Chaplin), visit him, and Elisa decides to stay with him for several days, as she’s suffering through a marriage crisis with her husband, “Antonio” (Norman Briski). Soon, Elisa discovers her father’s diary and reads it in secret. Obsessed with the diary, Elisa develops a somewhat fantasy-driven relationship with her father. As they spend time together, Elisa appears to be entangled in a strong Electra complex and an incestuous desire between the two of them becomes obvious. Antonio arrives at the house determined to be reconciled with Elisa, but she is enjoying a new life in the countryside and he leaves for the city—terminating their relationship. Soon Luis falls ill, eventually dying in the countryside, and Elisa finds peace in replacing him at the school. Elisa, vida mía is considered Saura’s masterpiece. As the best-known director of the New Spanish Cinema of the 1960s, Saura grew up under Francoism— the Spanish Civil War having been a central theme in his earlier metaphorical cinema. However, with Franco’s death and political censorship lifted in 1975, he developed a more personal feel to his cinematic productions. He worked with Spanish producer Elías Quejereta, who gave him absolute freedom, and Saura used it to create a new art form different from the traditional narrative so common in Spanish cinema. Saura mixes reality and fiction, imagination and dreams, as he softens the line that divides the diegesis from what the characters imagine. The temporal and geographical space is also vague, adding to the allure and mysterious appeal of the film. Although the action is framed in the 1970s in the Castilian countryside, the narrative intertwines present, past, and future. Fernando Rey won the Best Actor award at the Cannes Film Festival in 1977 and Carlos Saura was nominated for the Best Director. He later won at the Cinema Writers Circle Awards in Spain in 1978 and published the novel Elisa, vida mía later in 2004. See also ¡Ay, Carmela! (Ay, Carmela!); Bodas de sangre (Blood Wedding); Cría cuervos (Raise Ravens); ¡Dispara (Outrage!); Carlos Saura (Appendix A); El 7º día (The 7th Day) Bibliography García Ochoa, Santiago. “El coche como metáfora de la relación de pareja en el cine de Carlos Saura.” De arte: Revista de historia del arte, no. 7 (2008): 193–212.

140     EN LA CIUDAD Kinder, Marsha. “Carlos Saura: The Political Development of Individual Consciousness.” Film Quarterly 32, no. 3 (1979): 14–25. Riveira, José Seoane. “Escribir la imagen: La transformación de filme a novela lírica en Elisa, vida mía, de Carlos Saura.” Tonos digital 27, no. 1 (2014): 1–18.

—Sabrina Vaquerizo González

EN LA CIUDAD (IN THE CITY) (2003) Director: Cesc Gay Screenplay: Cesc Gay and Tomàs Aragay Specs: 110 minutes; color En la ciudad (In the City), a movie filmed in Catalan and Spanish languages, was nominated for several Goya Awards, earning the actor Eduard Fernández the award for the Best Supporting Actor. It also won the Barcelona de Cinema Awards for Best Actress (Mónica López) and Best Screenplay. The film features the everyday life of a group of friends in their 30s living in Barcelona. It develops several subplots that revolve around the love affairs and the internal conflicts of the six main characters: “Tomás,” “Sofía,” “Irene,” “Manu,” “Sara,” and “Mario.” Although none of them can achieve happiness, they feign happiness in front of their friends as if everything is perfect in their lives. Tomás (Alex Brendemühl) is a recently divorced high school teacher em-

Eduard Fernández. Wolfe Releasing / Photofest © Wolfe Releasing

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barking on a relationship with his 14-year-old student “Ana” (María Makaroff). Tomás keeps this relationship a secret until he introduces her to his friends. Sofía (María Pujalte) is occasionally having sexual encounters with a married French businessman who frequents Barcelona from time to time. After realizing they will never become a real couple, she starts a relationship with “Andrés” (Jordi Sánchez), whom she doesn’t love and shortly thereafter leaves. Irene (Mónica López) is facing a deep internal conflict: she is married to Manu (Chisco Amado) and has a five-year-old daughter but thinks about abandoning her family after commencing a lesbian relationship with “Silvia” (Àurea Márquez), an old friend of hers. Sara (Vicenta N’Dongo) is cheating on her husband, Mario (Eduard Fernández). He is aware of this. Although he prefers not to say anything to avoid conflict with Sara and thereby maintaining their marriage, he too is having an affair with “Cristina” (Leonor Watling), a waitress he meets in a bar. The film is a pessimistic exploration of the desires and frustrations that accompany the young adulthood search for personal identity and happiness. The director does not pretend to introduce moral reproaches toward the attitudes, actions, or behavior of the characters. Instead the narratives simply sketch the realities of contemporary societies enmeshed in the monotonous and lonely life of the habitants of a modern and cosmopolitan city like Barcelona. See also Cesc Gay (Appendix A); Krámpack (Nico and Dani); Una pistola en cada mano (A Gun in Each Hand) —Miki Ishimori

EN LA CIUDAD SIN LÍMITES (THE CITY OF NO LIMITS) (2002) Director: Antonio Hernández Screenplay: Antonio Hernández and Enrique Brasó Specs: 116 minutes; color En la ciudad sin límites is a 2002 Spanish-Argentinean coproduced film directed by Antonio Hernández. It tells the story of a young man who searches into the hidden past of his ailing and delusional father. The film won awards for Best Screenplay and Best Supporting Actress (Geraldine Chaplin) at the 2003 Premios Goya. The film presents a complex plot, with elements of a thriller, in which revelations of painful secrets and haunting memories unfold against a backdrop of family conflict, love, and money interests. “Víctor” (Leonardo Sbaraglia) travels with his girlfriend, “Eileen” (Letica Brádice), from Argentina to Paris, where Víctor’s mother, “Marie” (Geraldine Chaplin), and his brothers have gathered around their seriously ill father, “Max” (Fernando Fernán-Gómez), a prominent businessman being treated for cancer at a luxurious private hospital. In the midst of tensions surrounding the future sale of the family’s pharmaceutical business and elder brother “Luis’s” (Roberto Álvarez) failed marriage, Víctor tries to help his father and becomes an accomplice to the old man’s petitions, which are

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ignored as evidence of dementia. Max insists that he needs to leave the hospital where he believes he is being held prisoner and is victim of a complot in order to reach a person called Rancel and alert him not to take a certain train. Víctor’s attentiveness to his father’s apparent delusions is further prompted by a feeling of disconnection with his siblings and their motivations, as well as by the rather contradictory attitude displayed by his controlling mother, who prevents her husband from carrying out his wishes and does not even communicate his anxieties. Víctor helps Max leave the hospital and reach an address near an apartment where Max had lived more than 40 years before and that once was the site of a café frequented by Spanish exiles. It becomes clear that the old man’s confused mind re-creates a traumatic moment from a past that haunts him. Max is again hospitalized and Víctor is recriminated for what his relatives regard as an act of suspicious irresponsibility. Víctor then travels to Madrid in order to contrast his mother’s explanation of Max’s participation in a communist cell operating underground during Franco’s dictatorship. According to her accounts, Max was believed to be responsible for treason because of his role in the arrest by Spanish police of his contact person, Joaquín Navarra, alias “Rancel.” Víctor suspects his mother is not telling the truth about Rancel having eventually died in prison, when he finds his father hiding a book recently published by Navarro, whom he discovers is alive and living in Paris. While in Madrid, Víctor stays at his brother “Alberto’s” (Álex Casanova) house, in whose absence Víctor’s affair with his brother’s wife, “Carmen” (Ana Fernández), is revealed. Upon returning to Paris, Víctor meets with Rancel, who tells him the truth behind Max’s delirious obsession: in addition to being political comrades, Rancel and Max were lovers, and Marie was the person who denounced the operation in order to have Rancel arrested in order to protect the future of her marriage to Max. The film ends with Max’s death and the family’s farewell to him at the cemetery, after a scene where Víctor confronts his mother for intercepting a letter that Max had written to Rancel apologizing for his cowardice and wishing things had been different. Nonetheless Víctor makes sure that Max’s words reach Rancel, who previously assured Víctor he was at peace with the past and forgives Max. The political overtones of the intrigue that bridges past and present situate the film within a broader trend in which a younger generation in the midst of an identity crisis or personal turning point seeks to comprehend the intricacies of recent history lived by their parents or grandparents. See also Soldados de Salamina (Soldiers of Salamis) —Elena Cueto Asín

ENTERRADO (BURIED) (2010) Director: Rodrigo Cortés Screenplay: Chris Sparling Specs: 95 minutes; color Buried is a 2010 English-language suspense film directed by Rodrigo Cortés. It tells the story of an American truck driver who wakes up in a coffin, buried alive

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in an Iraqi desert. The film played at several international film festivals and won multiple accolades, including an Original Screenplay award from the National Board of Review in the United States. The phrase “chamber piece” is often used to describe a film that takes place in a minimal location, usually only one set. Several acclaimed directors have attempted this type of cinematic stunt with varied success. Ingmar Bergman is perhaps the best known for creating chamber pieces well, with such works as Cries and Whispers (1972) and Autumn Sonata (1977) being his most famous. With Rope (1948), Alfred Hitchcock narrowed his setting to a single room and even further with Lifeboat (1944) to a small dingy floating in the Atlantic. Buried shrinks down the setting to even smaller dimensions where the film takes place entirely within the confines of a coffin-sized pine box, buried in an unknown location somewhere in Iraq. Cortés relies on the audience’s fear of being buried alive and creates an even more claustrophobic atmosphere by only using lighting provided by items (a cellphone, a lighter, etc.) to illuminate the screen, thereby creating an even greater sense of actually being buried in a coffin. The film begins with “Paul Conroy” (Ryan Reynolds), a truck driver working for a private American company who delivers building materials to war-torn Iraq, waking in total darkness. A cell phone vibrates close by and the light reveals Paul is bound and gagged. He manages to set himself free and finds a small bottle of pills, a flask of whiskey, and a Zippo lighter. Using the lighter, Paul discovers he is inside a pine box slightly bigger than a coffin. He presses the top of box hoping it will give, but it does not budge. He yells for help but hears nothing in return and realizes he has been buried. Paul grabs for his wallet, searching for a card with a phone number his company gave him to use in case of emergencies, but his wallet is empty. He decides to call information but is connected to a Midwestern operator who can only provide local information. Paul asks to be connected to the police, but they do not believe his story and disconnect the call. The phone then rings and Paul answers to the sound of a voice with a Middle Eastern accent. The man on the other end is Paul’s kidnapper, “Jabir” (José Luis García Pérez). He demands Paul contact the United States and ask for a $5 million ransom. Paul tells him no one will pay that, but Jabir insists or Paul will die. Paul calls several other numbers, including his employer, but they all lead to dead-ends. He is finally put in touch with the State Department. He speaks with Special Agent “Harris” (Erik Palladino), who gives Paul the phone number of a hostage negotiator, “Dan Brenner” (Robert Paterson), stationed in Iraq. Harris also tells Paul that the United States does not negotiate with terrorists and will not pay the ransom. Paul contacts Brenner and tells the negotiator that he is truck driver in Iraq, his convoy was attacked, and he was knocked unconscious and then buried alive. Brenner tells Paul to remain calm and that his team is doing everything possible to locate him. Paul then tries to call his wife, “Linda” (Samantha Mathis), but is taken either to voicemail or an answering machine. Jabir calls Paul and tells him that if Paul makes a hostage video, he will be unburied. Paul tells his kidnapper that the United States will not pay the $5 million ransom. Jabir then says he will take less, a million dollars. After hanging up, Paul discovers a bag in the coffin with a flashlight, two large glow sticks, and a

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letter with the message Jabir expects Paul to say when making the video. Brenner calls back and Paul tells him about Jabir’s demand to make a ransom video, but the negotiator is skeptical that Jabir will keep his word and tells Paul to not make the video. Paul then asks how successful Brenner and his team have been in locating and saving hostages. Brenner admits it is rare, but names a particular case where a man named Mark White was rescued. This gives Paul some hope that he will return home. The kidnapper calls again and demands a ransom video or one of Paul’s colleagues, “Pamela” (Ivana Miño), will be executed. Pamela and Paul were close friends and Jabir sends Paul a video proving they are holding her captive. In the video, Pamela reads a letter similar to the one that Paul discovered in his coffin. In order to save his friend’s life, Paul makes the video and sends it to Jabir. Moments later, however, Jabir sends another video to Paul showing Pamela’s execution. Brenner then calls back and tells Paul that the hostage video he made is now going viral and the media are becoming involved. Paul explains that he had to make the video in order to save his friend’s life, although it was unsuccessful. Paul begins to become hysterical and Brenner asks him if he takes medication. Paul says he does and that the pills are in the coffin. Brenner tells Paul to take some pills to calm him down because the air supply is likely running low. After taking the pills, Paul is able to nap briefly but is awoken by a slithering feeling going down his pants leg. A large snake emerges from the folds of his pants and coils up in a corner of the casket. Thinking quickly, Paul splashes a little bit of the whiskey around the snake and throws his lighter, igniting a small blaze that scares the snake away through a knot hole in the casket. Paul stuffs the hole with the bag. He then receives a phone call from “Alan Davenport” (Stephen Tobolowsky), a member of the human resources department of his employer. Davenport informs Paul that due to a sexual relationship the truck driver allegedly had with Pamela, the company has terminated his position and revoked all benefits, including a life insurance policy. Paul tells Alan no such relationship occurred, but nothing can be said that alters Alan’s decision. Paul realizes that his family will be left with nothing if he dies. A few moments later, Paul hears a distant explosion and the coffin shakes so violently that part of the lid splinters. Sand begins pouring in and Paul quickly calls Brenner to report his current situation. The negotiator tells Paul that they are honing in on his signal, but they are still not quite sure where he is located. A few moments later, a weak-sounding Jabir calls Paul and tells him that if the American films himself cutting off a finger the kidnapper will unbury him. Paul does this and sends the video to Jabir. As he waits, Paul begins to hear scratching and shoveling from above and soon the lid to the casket opens to blinding light; however, this proves to be a hallucination. With the sand pouring into the coffin at a faster rate, Paul loses all hope. He then, however, receives a call from Brenner, who is yelling that they know where the coffin is buried and will be there in several minutes. As Brenner is talking, Linda calls and Paul hangs up on the negotiator to talk to his wife. She tells Paul she loves him and he confirms he is coming home safely. They hang up because Brenner is calling back. The negotiator tells Paul they have found the site and are digging. Paul tells Brenner to hurry because sand has almost completely filled

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the coffin. Through the phone, Paul can hear the sounds of shovels and Brenner saying, “There it is!” Yet Paul does not hear anything through the coffin lid. He then hears Brenner through the phone saying this is not Paul, but Mark White, the man supposedly saved by the negotiator. Brenner’s repeats, “I’m sorry, Paul. I’m so sorry,” several times as the remainder of Paul’s coffin fills with sand, suffocating him to death. See also El concursante (The Contestant) Bibliography Bergman, Ingmar. Images: My Life in Film. New York: Arcade, 1994. Bondeson, Jan. Buried Alive: The Terrifying History of Our Most Primal Fear. New York: W. W. Norton, 2001. Spoto, Donald. The Dark Side of Genius: The Life of Alfred Hitchcock. Boston, MA: Little, Brown, 1999.

—Jonathan Clark

LA ESCOPETA NACIONAL (THE NATIONAL SHOTGUN) (1978) Director: Luis García Berlanga Screenplay: Luis García Berlanga and Rafael Azcona Specs: 95 minutes; color La escopeta nacional is a 1978 film directed by Luis García Berlanga. It is the first part of Berlanga’s trilogy, and the film was followed by Patrimonio nacional (1981) and Nacional III (1982). The film is a comedy that intends to satirize Spanish higher classes during the Franco regime. At a national level, the film received the Best Film award from the Círculo de Escritores Cinematográficos. The film deals with a hunting party paid for by a Catalan businessman, “Jaume Canivell” (José Sazatornil), and organized at a hunting property that belongs to “Marqués de Leguineche” (Luis Escobar). Canivell aims at making contacts with politicians and successful Spanish businessmen in order to close deals concerning his company, which specializes in the production of intercoms. In this, he is assisted by “Cerrillo” (Rafael Alonso), who informs him about the people who are attending the hunt and gives him advice about whom he should speak with and how he should approach them for his purpose. His first and main contact is “Álvaro” (Antonio Ferrandis), minister for industry for the current government, but initially Álvaro does not seem very interested in Canivell’s project. Yet Canivell manages to change Álvaro’s mind after helping him solve a personal problem: Álvaro’s secret mistress, the model and actor “Vera del Bosque” (Bárbara Rey), has also attended the hunt, but she is kidnapped by “Luis José” (José Luis López Vázquez), the marquis’s son. Canivell persuades Álvaro to let him solve the problem and bring Vera back to him. Álvaro accepts, and from then on Canivell believes he and the minister have become close friends. In fact, they have more in common because Canivell, like Álvaro, has also attended the hunt with his secret mistress, “Mercé” (Mónica Randall).

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Luis Escobar and Elsa Zabala. In-Cine Distribuidora Cinematográfica S.A. / Photofest © In-Cine Distribuidora Cinematográfica S.A.

Yet the odd characters attending the hunt, together with the grotesque affairs and course of events, become a challenge for Canivell’s success and patience. In fact, a series of strange situations and circumstances are serious obstacles for Canivell’s ambitions, and therefore he keeps on quoting his father on the traveling salesman’s efficiency, as opposed to Cerrillo’s public relations strategy at the hunt. Canivell’s plan to take Vera back to Álvaro fails gloriously, and “Chus” (Amparo Soler Leal) gets angry with her husband and her father-in-law. In revenge, she destroys the old marquis’s bizarre collection of female pubic hairs, and as a result, the marquis faints and is taken to bed, where he lies in agony. In order to help him recover, a Mexican businessman called “Alsina” (Zelmar Gueñol) and his girlfriend, “Libertad” (Rosanna Yanni), persuade Mercé to allow the marquis to refill his collection with the two women. Then Álvaro decides to publish a decree by which Canivell’s intercoms become compulsory in new buildings, if, and only if, Canivell contracts Vera as an actor for a film. Later, after dinner, Vera announces to everybody that she is going to sign a contract to make a film as a protagonist, and asks Canivell to stand up for a picture with her for a magazine.

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At the end of the evening, they all get to know some important news: Álvaro will be soon replaced as minister for industry by “Ricardo López Carrión” (Fernando Hilbeck), also present at the hunt. Accordingly, Canivell has to start lobbying again, this time with other characters with whom he has been behaving disrespectfully, because one of them, “Castanys” (Pedro del Río), a banker and a member of Opus Dei, did not grant him a loan. Yet Canivell accepts the challenge and starts thinking about how he can persuade them. He is able to make some sacrifices, such as reading the book Castanys recommends, helping at Mass service as an exemplary Catholic, or even swearing he will be leaving Mercé to go back to his wife. At the end, as any member of the audience might have foreseen from the beginning, Canivell is unable to book any success for his company at the hunt, and all his efforts turn out to be ineffective. The film manages to depict a superficial society in which appearances are both important and misleading. This aspect is stressed throughout the film by numerous details, such as the fact that both Canivell and Mercé wear wigs. The corruption of the decadent Spanish higher classes during the end of the Franco regime is also successfully portrayed. Influence and social contacts play an essential role for this society, and, therefore, any career or business progress seems impossible for those who are unable to pay for it, because those who have the power keep demanding their piece of the pie. See also Moros y cristianos (Moors and Christians) —Guillermo Sanz Gallego

ESE OSCURO OBJETO DEL DESEO (THAT OBSCURE OBJECT OF DESIRE) (1977) Director: Luis Buñuel Screenplay: Luis Buñuel and Jean-Claude Carrière Specs: 102 minutes; color Ese oscuro objeto de deseo is a 1977 film directed by Luis Buñuel. It is based on La femme et le pantin, a novel by Pierre Louys, and it is Buñuel’s last film. It was nominated for an Academy Award for Best Foreign Language Film, the Golden Globe Award for Best Foreign Language Film, as well as two César Awards. The film tells of the tempestuous love relationship between “Mathieu Faber” (Fernando Rey), an older French gentleman, and “Conchita” (played by two actors, Ángela Molina and Carole Bouquet), a young Spanish lady from a modest background. The film is characterized by Buñuel’s surrealism, which can be observed in the importance of eroticism, and the apparent lack of rationale and logic in the storyline, very much in the line of onirism in terms of aesthetics and narrative. In the same vein, some of the surrealist devices deployed by Buñuel in the film seem to stress the enigmatic symbolism of a series of elements apparently unrelated to the story, such as the recurrent allusions to terrorist attacks, the presence of animals throughout the film (in particular, the pig carried by the fortune-teller as her son), the cement sack Mathieu and other characters carry at certain points, and the blood-stained embroidery at the end. Similarly, the

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Fernando Rey and Carole Bouquet. First Artists / Photofest © First Artists

fact that two different actors were used to play the role of Conchita—Ángela Molina and Carole Bouquet—was also understood as a revolutionary technique, by which Buñuel intended to highlight the female character’s dualism. Ángela Molina represents Conchita’s shameless, irrational, and frivolous side, whereas Carole Bouquet portrays the character’s naïve, pure, and regretful facet. The plot of the film revolves around Mathieu Faber’s sexual obsession with Conchita. The film starts medias res, at a point in which Mathieu buys a train ticket to Paris after having a row with Conchita at his stately house in Seville. He gets on the train and pours a bucket of water on Conchita, who is on the platform trying to get on the train as well. Back at his compartment, Mathieu’s fellow passengers ask him why he behaved like that with the young lady, and then he starts outlining in detail his story with Conchita. Mathieu relates how he met her in Paris at a friend’s house, in which she is working as a household assistant. Mathieu feels attracted to her and tries to kiss her, but she does not allow him to come close to her. The next morning, she leaves the house before he gets up. Yet, soon after that episode, they meet again in Lausanne, after Mathieu has been robbed by a group of boys. Significantly, she happens to be traveling with this group of young men, but she agrees to meet him in Paris. Back in Paris he goes to visit her. She lives in a small apartment with “Encarnación” (María Asquerino), her mother. Encarnación tells Mathieu they have no money. He is willing to help them and asks her to accept a bundle of banknotes.

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Encarnación is grateful for Mathieu’s money and leaves the apartment. Mathieu and Conchita remain at the apartment after Encarnación’s awkward departure, a situation that can be interpreted as a form of surreptitious prostitution agreed to by Conchita’s mother, since the older gentleman is in fact paying for enjoying the young girl’s company in private. When they meet again, Conchita is rehearsing a dance with “Morenito” (David Rocha), whom Mathieu recognizes as one of the boys who robbed him in Lausanne. When Morenito leaves, Conchita tells Mathieu she is a virgin. Later on, Mathieu organizes a meeting with Encarnación and tells her he is in love with her daughter and that he would like Conchita to live with him. Then he gives her a bundle of banknotes and asks her to send her daughter. Instead of Conchita, Morenito comes to Mathieu’s house with a letter in which Conchita has written that she does not want to see him again because he has tried to purchase her. He goes to her apartment, but he is told she has left her place without further notice. Then he goes to a bar to have a drink with a friend. There he meets her again by chance because she is working at that same bar. In this regard, parallels can be drawn between the recurrent and surrealist type of casual rendezvous between the two protagonists, Mathieu and Conchita, and those between Horacio and La Maga, the main characters of another surrealist work that takes place in Paris in Cortázar’s book Rayuela (1963). At the bar Mathieu tells Conchita he did not mean to buy her, and they decide to go to Mathieu’s country house. That night Conchita promises to give herself to him, but finally she changes her mind. Mathieu gets furious and attempts to rape her, but he does not succeed because she is wearing a chastity belt. After that episode, Conchita keeps teasing and refusing Mathieu. One night Mathieu discovers she has let Morenito come into his house in Paris. Mathieu gets mad at her and makes them both leave. A bit later, Conchita and her mother are deported. Simultaneously, Mathieu decides to travel to Singapore, although he finally goes to Seville. Once in Seville, a series of awkward episodes occur, such as the casual encounter with two gypsy women who ask him for some money for a child that happens to be a pig. Also, “Martín” (André Weber), Mathieu’s butler, says that all women are sacks full of excrement. Then Mathieu goes to a restaurant carrying the recurrent and enigmatic sack of cement but decides to leave it there because he does not need it anymore. In this scene Buñuel seems to suggest that Mathieu has finally gotten rid of Conchita, who is depicted as a burden for him. The scene can also be understood as a misogynistic reference by Buñuel, in which Conchita is portrayed as the sack full of excrement Martín alluded to a bit earlier. Then Mathieu follows a small religious procession that takes him to Conchita’s new house in Seville’s old town. After a small talk, she asks him to meet her at a bar in which she works as a dancer. Mathieu goes to the bar, and there he is able to see Conchita dancing. Then she greets him and asks him to wait for her while she rests for a while. He decides to have a drink in the meantime, and then he meets a friend of Conchita’s, who tells him that he can go upstairs to see for himself how Conchita “rests.” He proceeds in the way he has been told, and he finds out that Conchita is in fact dancing naked for a group of drunk businessmen. Mathieu gets furious and

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makes everybody leave the room. Conchita tells him that he is only jealous, but that he does not own her. Mathieu says that he cannot live like that anymore, but she says that she loves him. Then he says he will do whatever she wants, and she answers that she does not need much to be happy with him, just a small house. Therefore, Mathieu buys a house for her in Seville’s old town. The next scene shows Mathieu getting to a nice house in Seville. A locksmith gives Conchita her new key, and Mathieu gives her the documents of the house from the property register. Then she says she has a surprise for him that same night, at midnight, and he understands they will finally make love. Yet, when he gets back at night, the front fence door is locked. At the patio Conchita laughs at him, and she tells him he makes her sick, because her real lover is the much-younger Morenito. At that point Morenito appears, and she makes love to him in front of Mathieu, who finally leaves. The next morning Conchita goes to Mathieu’s house while he is having breakfast at the garden. She wants to explain what happened the night before, but he does not listen to her. He takes her to a room and beats her up. At that point Mathieu brings his story to an end for his fellow passengers at the train. After the end of the flashback, Conchita enters the train compartment and pours a bucket full of water at Mathieu. The next scene is also surrealist for the audience due to the lack of logic: after the arrival of the train in Madrid, Conchita joins Mathieu and Martín at the station as if nothing had happened, and they get a cab together. Finally, back in Paris, Conchita and Mathieu have a walk together. They get to a gallery, in which they stop to observe a woman mending a piece of torn and blood-stained embroidery. This element clearly alludes to a hymen and to Conchita’s lost virginity. Accordingly, the scene seems to suggest that Mathieu has finally achieved what he had longed for. After that, the couple walks away, and a bomb explodes in the gallery. The film finishes with the couple’s death in a terrorist attack. With such an end, Buñuel stresses the ephemeral and arbitrary character of life. Ese oscuro objeto del deseo is a surrealist film full of symbolism. Buñuel manages to highlight the importance of power in its different forms in our society. Drawing on a tempestuous relationship between an older wealthy man and a modest young lady, Buñuel shows how people can influence others and what resources can be employed for that purpose. In this regard, sex epitomizes a means to achieve goals comparable to money, and, in the same way, money is depicted as a way to achieve sex. —Guillermo Sanz Gallego

EL ESPINAZO DEL DIABLO (THE DEVIL’S BACKBONE) (2001) Director: Guillermo del Toro Screenplay: Guillermo del Toro, Antonio Trashorras, and David Muñoz Specs: 108 minutes; color El espinazo del diablo is the third film by Guillermo del Toro, a Mexican producer of films such as The Orphanage (2007) and Kung Fu Panda 2 (2011), but also a director of popular films such as Blade II (2002), Hellboy (2004), Pan’s Lab-

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yrinth (2006), and Pacific Rim (2013). The majority of his works focus on horror and fairy tales as well as on the cruelties of war (whether fictional or historical). El espinazo del diablo is a drama and horror story set in 1939, near the end of the Spanish Civil War. The narrative focuses on 10-year-old “Carlos” (Fernando Tielve), who is sent to a solitary orphanage in the middle of an arid plain after the death of his Republican father on the front. The orphanage is managed by “Dr. Casares” (Federico Luppi) and “Carmen” (Marisa Paredes), with the help of “Jacinto” (Eduardo Noriega), an orphaned child who has followed Carmen for many years. The orphanage’s staff also includes Jacinto’s fiancée, “Conchita” (Irene Visedo). Young Carlos has many difficulties in adapting to orphanage life, especially because a group of boys headed by “Jaime” (Iñigo Garcés) bully him. Since his arrival, he has also heard and seen the ghost of a young boy, whom he later discovers to be “Santi” (Junio Valverde), an orphan recently killed by Jacinto. The latter is actually the villain of the narrative: he has a secret liaison with Carmen and repeatedly tries to open the place’s safe in order to steal its gold bars, which are used by Dr. Casares and Carmen to finance the rebels. The threat of war hanging continually over the characters’ lives is symbolized by an unexploded bomb placed in the center of the school’s courtyard. After the capture of some rebels with whom he is personally acquainted, Dr. Casares decides to evacuate the orphanage before the arrival of Franco’s troops, but he is stopped by Jacinto, who detonates all the tanks of petrol in front of the safe and on the truck, thus killing Carmen and many boys as well as mortally wounding Dr. Casares. Jacinto later returns to the orphanage with two accomplices in order to find the gold bars and they capture the remaining boys. Carlos is told by Jaime that Santi has been killed by Jacinto because the boy discovered him forcing the safe. Santi’s ghost appears again and asks for Jacinto to be brought to him in the orphanage’s well where his unburied body lies. The story concludes with a just retribution of sins and the remaining boys abandoning the orphanage. The film is considered a “humanist ghost story” because, as is the case of films such as Ghost (1994), The Sixth Sense (1999), What Lies Beneath (2000), and The Others (2001), or of literary narratives such as William Shakespeare’s Hamlet, the fear and threat is not from the ghost themselves but rather from the humans. Indeed, the ghost of Santi appears in order to convey a message of salvation, not merely of revenge: it breaks the boundaries between past and present (and life and death) to help the living and instruct them. Apart from its disturbing appearance (with the wound on his head still pouring out blood and bones protruding from his clothes), Santi’s ghost is not very frightening and the film presents its most horrific scenes when the presence is only suggested (especially through the sound effects) rather than clearly glimpsed. We could argue that the early manifestation of the specter diminishes the horrific aspects of the tale, but, on the other hand, it creates a thrilling atmosphere from the beginning of the film and maintains the viewer’s interest in the phantasm’s history and its final destiny. The film displays excellent cinematography, especially in the frames opposing the orphanage’s shadowy interiors to the sunny courtyard and the exterior golden plain. There is a patina of age on the story but not on the film’s images, which are always clear and bright. See also El laberinto del fauno (Pan’s Labyrinth); Guillermo del Toro (Appendix A)

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Bibliography Ebert, Roger. “The Devil’s Backbone Movie Review.” RogerEbert.com. 2001. http://www .rogerebert.com/reviews/the-devils-backbone-2001 (July 15, 2016). Krake, Kate. “Guillermo del Toro’s The Devil's Backbone—A Humanist Ghost Story.” Popcultured. 2011. http://www.pop-cultured.net/guillermo-del-toros-the-devils-backbone-a-humanist-ghost-story/ (July 12, 2016).

—Antonio Sanna

ESQUILACHE (ESQUILACHE) (1989) Director: Josefina Molina Screenplay: Josefina Molina, José Sámano, and Joaquín Oristrel Specs: 106 minutes; color Directed by Josefina Molina, Esquilache is an adaptation of Un soñador para un pueblo (A Dreamer for the People), a drama written in 1958 by Antonio Buero Vallejo that deals with a controversial 18th-century historical event known as the “Esquilache Riots”—an incident revolving around an attempt to question the Francoist obscurantist views about the modernization of Spain. Esquilache was well received by Spanish audiences, winning two Goya Awards for Best Supporting Actor and Best Art Director. The protagonist, “Leopold de Gregorio, ‘marquis of Esquilache’” (Fernando Fernán-Gómez), is an Italian statesman in the court of Charles III, who championed reform but failed to communicate his vision to the Spaniards and whose discontent resulted in the riots of March of 1766 and, ultimately, his exile. These riots revealed the public’s discontent about several measures championed by Esquilache that resulted in the rising costs of bread and other staples. The uprising was sparked by a decree that forbade traditional Spanish apparel, which consisted of long capes and broad-brimmed hats (sombrero chambergo), and imposed the short capes and three-cornered hats, fashionable in other more advanced European countries. Apart from the modernization of males’ attire, these measures were intended to reduce crime, reasoned by the suggestion that too often men concealed their weapons and their identity behind the long cape and the sombrero chambergo and, as a result, many crimes went unpunished. The action of this movie is presented through Esquilache’s point of view. On his deathbed, he remembers his efforts to modernize Spain and the opposition he encountered, especially from the Council of Castile, the noblemen, and traditional Spaniards in general. On a personal level, he also recalls his disagreements and confrontations with his dishonest and vain wife (Concha Velasco), who does not hesitate to use her husband’s position and political power to benefit herself and her children. Esquilache feels alone, misunderstood, and betrayed by those he thought were his friends, and his only solace is his maid “Fernandita” (Ángela Molina). Both the drama A Dreamer for the People and Esquilache take part in the debate about modernization and reform that transpire in the political and social milieu of the 1950s and 1980s, respectively. According to Francoist official historiography, Esquilache’s riots were considered a spontaneous popular revolt against the foreign customs that Charles III and his Italian statesman championed. Con-

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Amparo Revelles. Sabre Films / Photofest © Sabre Films

versely, Buero Vallejo’s drama showcases how the Spanish lower classes were manipulated by the reactionary aristocrats, while viewing the status quo as endangered by the enlightened reforms. The play was not well received among the traditionalists, who saw the Enlightenment and Charles III’s reign as decadent, barbaric, and irreverent since it challenged the traditional image of Spain. After Franco’s death and the transition period to democracy, the socialist government came to power in 1982 and tried to push an economic reform that caused social unrest. Ironically, the premiere of the movie coincided not only with the bicentenary of Charles III’s death but also a general strike that paralyzed the country in December 1988. Thus, it was rather easy for Spanish audiences to draw parallels between the minister of economy and minister of finance as 20th-century Esquilaches. The Socialist Party (PSOE) in power was also offering industrial reconversion, trade liberalization, freedom of expression, and modernization at the expense of the workers’ welfare. Following Buero Vallejo’s writing, Molina presents Esquilache as a political figure but also as a human being. Esquilache’s loneliness is twofold: he has to face the rejection of all antiprogressive Spaniards on the public sphere, and the disdain and disregard that his wife and children show toward him on the private level. Esquilache is energetic and influential in public, but he behaves in an indecisive and cowardly way in private matters. The film has a circular structure and presents three moments in time that are effectively interwoven through an excellent use of montage and double flashbacks. The triggers of Esquilache’s memories are letters from the king that reflect on the main themes of the film: modernization, the role of government, time, and our role in history. The king’s reflections are meaningful to Esquilache: “I

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felt a profound melancholy when I understood that our today is already yesterday and that our only raison d’être is our past. . . we have forced History to give a step forward. History has done it and we have been left balancing in the void.” Esquilache relies on a symbolism closely related to constant contrapositions between light and darkness. While the former points to modernization and progressive ideas, the latter refers to obscurantism, irrationalism, and fanaticism. The king’s letter also points to this contrast and the difficult situation that the reformists had to face, summarized in the following sentence: “I fear that by going after the lights, we have been blinded and have become the first victims of a time of obscurantism.” See also Fernando Fernán-Gómez (Appendix A) Bibliography Gómez, María Asunción. “De la oposición al poder: El conflicto de la modernidad en Un soñador para un pueblo de Antonio Buero Vallejo y Esquilache de Josefina Molina.” Journal of Interdisciplinary Literary Studies 7 (1995): 83–104. Thompson, Michael. “Framing on Stage and Screen: Antonio Buero Vallejo’s Un soñador para un pueblo and Josefina Molina’s Esquilache.” Romance Studies 26 (1995): 61–76. Zatlin, Phyllis. “Josefina Molina’s Esquilache: Film Transformation of Theater.” Anuario de cine y literatura en español: An International Journal on Film and Literature 3 (1997): 173–79.

—María Asunción Gómez

LA ESTANQUERA DE VALLECAS (THE TOBACCONIST FROM VALLECAS) (1986) Director: Eloy de la Iglesia Screenplay: José Luis Alonso de Santos, Gonzalo Goicoechea, and Eloy de la Iglesia, based on the homonymous play by José Luis Alonso de Santos Specs: 106 minutes; color This 1986 film tells the story of an unemployed worker and a young man who rob a tobacco shop in the Vallecas neighborhood of Madrid. The film was nominated for the Best Editing award at the Premios Goya 1988. “Leandro” (José Luis Gómez) is an unemployed worker and “Tocho” (José Luis Manzano) is young and ruthless. The duo decides to raid a tobacco shop in the popular Vallecas district of Madrid. Though simple and potentially easy to pull off, the robbery is foiled by the tobacconist, “Doña Justa” (Emma Penella). The failed robbery becomes a kidnapping, with Leandro and Tocho apprehending Doña Justa and her young niece, “Ángeles” (Maribel Verdú). During the kidnapping the hostages become enmeshed in a comical Stockholm syndrome—empathizing with, and at times aiding, their captors. La estanquera de Vallecas belongs to the so-called Quinqui Cinema, a popular genre produced in Spain between the late 1970s and the early 1980s. Quinqui Cinema showcases the world of juvenile delinquency, the marginality of big cities, and the devastations brought on by drug use. Eloy de la Iglesia’s filmography in Quinqui Cinema was adapted from the play by José Luis Alonso de Santos.

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The play was based on real incidents: four habitual criminals robbed a tobacco shop in Vallecas in 1981, though they killed the tobacconist. Dramatist José Luis Alonso de Santos in the original literary piece and the director Eloy de la Iglesia used satire as a medium to convey the story. The setting for the film has particular sociological significance as it is considered the working-class district of Madrid. Indeed, the Vallecas neighborhood in the 1980s was associated with marginality, government subsidies for housing, crime, drugs, social conflict, and poverty. In addition, since the middle of the 20th century, Vallecas was also a major hub for migrants from other parts of the country. The evolution of the district has established its own identity as a bastion of resistance against the structures and abuses of power—all of which is clearly evident in in the film. La estanquera de Vallecas is a popular production moving well beyond a mere tale of crime but also touching on social issues that affect the very people who live in Vallecas today. For example, the representation of the police is not positive, depicting the corruption and immorality so commonly revealed among figures of authority and politicians in that region. For this production, the machinery of social control displays how it can harm the most disadvantaged classes—moving away from the idealization of “La Transición” (1975–1982) and criticizing the values of a conformist and self-satisfied society. See also Eloy de la Iglesia (Appendix A); El pico (Overdose) —David García Reyes

1 •  F  • FAUSTO 5.0 (FAUST 5.0) (2001) Director: Álex Ollé, Isidro Ortiz, and Carlus Padrissa Screenplay: Fernando León de Aranoa Specs: 93 minutes; color Fausto 5.0 is a 2001 film developed by the experimental theater Catalan group La Fura dels Baus and directed by its artistic directors, Álex Ollé and Carlus Padrissa, in cooperation with Isidro Ortiz. The script was written by film director Fernando León de Aranoa. The film is the last part of a trilogy that La Fura dels Baus dedicated to the figure of “Faust,” initiated with the performance Faust 3.0 (based on Goethe’s play Faust, written in 1808) and the opera The Damnation of Faust (based on Hector Berlioz’s opera with the same title that premiered in 1846). The movie won the Best Actor Award at Premios Goya (2002), the Mèliès d’Or Award for the Best European Fantasy Film (2002), and Best Film at the International Fantasy Film Awards. The plot of the film revolves around “Doctor Fausto” (Miguel Ángel Solá), a specialist in terminal medicine who is absorbed by his tedious and monotonous job. Upon arriving in Barcelona for a conference on terminal medicine, he meets “Santos Vella” (Eduard Fernández). Santos recognizes Fausto and introduces himself, explaining that Fausto had treated and declared him terminally ill eight years prior. Santos assures Fausto that despite this mistake, he is not aggrieved, and unexpectedly promises Fausto that he will help him to make all his wishes come true. Annoyed, Fausto refuses his friendship yet can’t escape Santos, as he begins to shadow Fausto at every turn. In each “casual” encounter, Santos insists that Fausto must explain his wishes to him, while Fausto begs and pleads with Santos to leave him alone. The situation changes when Fausto’s assistant, “Julia” (Najwa Nimri), informs him that a terminal patient he has been treating has miraculously recovered without scientific explanation. Realizing he once had such a wish in mind the last time Santos made his offer, Fausto begins to suspect that Santos may have interfered with his patient’s treatment. Fausto then calls Santos and meets him, at which point he learns that Santos does in fact have the ability to grant wishes and that he will shadow Fausto until he satisfies all of his desires. From that moment forward, everything that Fausto desires—good or bad—begins to come true. Fausto is aware that this situation is becoming uncontrollable when he returns from a hotel after attending a party in which he had sex with a teenager, “Margarita” (Raquel González). He also sees a rival physician of his, “Quiroga” (Juan Fernández), disfigured after having been brutally beaten. In a turn of events, after Fausto’s room is vandalized and he’s accused by the hotel staff of perpetrat-

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ing the destruction, he is forced to pay the reparations; however, Fausto runs away and is arrested by the police. Santos intervenes and helps in Fausto’s release. Exhausted, Fausto begs Santos to disappear and stop granting every desire that crosses his mind, which Santos accepts. Again in the hotel, Fausto meets Julia, who came to join the conference and brings with her Santos’s medical history, at Fausto’s request. He checks it and realizes that, according to it, Santos passed away eight years ago. At that point, Fausto realizes that his life was consumed by his job, living more like a dead man than as a living human being. With the aim of changing the former situation, Fausto proposes that he and Julia stop working for a while and enjoy a trip together. Julia accepts, but suddenly, Fausto remembers that a few minutes earlier, before meeting her, he wished to be dead. La Fura dels Baus directors created this film as an ode to the original legend of Faust. In the different literary versions of the story, as in Goethe’s play, Mephistopheles, the devil, offers Faust the possibility of acquiring knowledge and enjoying all kind of pleasures in exchange for his soul. In the film, Santos, like Mephistopheles, offers Doctor Fausto (a symbolical archetype of the contemporary humankind’s dissatisfaction) the possibility of feeling alive through the transgression of social and moral rules, losing control of the events, indeed. See also Fernando León de Aranoa (Appendix A) —Alex Pinar

FELICES 140 (HAPPY 140) (2015) Director: Gracia Querejeta Screenplay: Gracia Querejeta and Santos Mercero Specs: 98 minutes; color Felices 140 is a film directed by Gracia Querejeta. The film tells the story of a group of friends who spend a weekend together at a country cottage for a birthday party. The plot of the film revolves around “Elia” (Maribel Verdú), a woman who decides to rent a country cottage to celebrate her 40th birthday with a group of friends. One of them, “Mario” (Ginés García Millán), is Elia’s ex-boyfriend. Mario arrives at the party with his new girlfriend, “Claudia” (Paula Cancio). Initially everybody within the group of friends seems to get on well with one another; they all seem to be successful professionals and have a nice life. Yet, once each couple is left alone, a different reality is revealed. For her birthday party, Elia has selected a fancy country cottage with a nice swimming pool. She has also rented a piano so that Mario can play some songs. At dinner Elia gets upset with Mario because he announces that he and Claudia are getting married. Then Elia reveals that she has won €140 million in the lottery. This event is the trigger of a series of conflicts among some of the characters, who start thinking about the possibility of asking Elia for some money. Later on Elia tries to seduce Mario because she intends to come back to him. However, he refuses to come back to her. Their discussion gets worse, and she

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Marian Álvarez, Eduard Fernández, Paula Cancio, Ginés García Milán, Alex O’Dogherty, Marcos Ruiz, Nora Naves, and Antonio de la Torre. Sony Pictures Releasing / Photofest © Sony Pictures Releasing

finally kills him with a bottle of wine. When the others find out they decide to help Elia out, but they do not know how. Finally, “Juan” (Antonio de la Torre) proposes that they all get rid of the corpse, but in exchange, Elia is expected to share the lottery jackpot with them. At first some of the friends react with disbelief, but in the end they all agree. The film manages to present a critical portrait of a modern society in which people have neither principles nor regrets, a society in which a friend’s death can be understood as something positive, a society in which everything has a price, a selfish society in which a lottery jackpot can imply a new beginning but also a chance to break down a family. The film was nominated for two Goya Awards for Best Supporting Actress (Marian Álvarez and Nora Navas). See also Cuando vuelvas a mi lado (By My Side Again); Héctor (Hector); Gracia Querejeta (Appendix A); 15 años y un día (15 Years and One Day) —Guillermo Sanz Gallego

FIN (THE END) (2012) Director: Jorge Torregrossa Screenplay: Sergio G. Sánchez and Jorge Guerricaechevarría, based on the novel Fin by David Monteagudo Specs: 90 minutes; color Fin is a 2012 film helmed by then freshman feature-length film director Jorge Torregrossa. The film follows a hapless group of friends reunited at a remote cabin after a 20-year hiatus; this gap in yearly retreats is caused by inauspicious

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Clara Lago, Maribel Verdú, and Daniel Grao. Sony Pictures Releasing / Photofest © Sony Pictures Releasing

circumstances during their last reunion. As the group attempts to work past petty trifles and past contrivances, they are assailed with an event that refocuses their collective energies on the singular goal of survival. The film is an adaptation of the science fiction novel Fin, known in English as The End, written in 2009 by David Monteagudo. The plot of the film revolves around characters who often appear to be a composite of typical film tropes, as they navigate what starts as a genial reunion that quickly transforms into a search for truth and a fight for survival. “Félix” (Daniel Grao) portrays an anguished and ambiguously repressed homosexual. “Eva” (Clara Lago) is an amalgam of the two stock characters of the “hooker with a heart of gold” and the “manic pixie dream girl.” “Sara” (Carmen Ruiz) is the mother-hen spinster. “Hugo” (Andrés Velencoso) is the Casanova of the group and is accompanied by his meek partner, “Cova” (Blanca Romero). Then there is the conflicted couple, “Maribel” (Maribel Verdú) and “Rafa” (Antonio Garrido). Rounding out the coterie is the struggling artist and insufferable drunk, “Sergio” (Miquel Fernández). Suspiciously absent to the reunion is a man referred to as “Prophet” (Eugenio Mira). The film opens to the hands of Prophet manically drawing to add another work to his already voluminous sketchbook. There is palpable urgency to his actions. Prophet then descends into the subway, awaiting the arrival of Félix. The murals in the subway depict biblical scenes, a religious motif that suffuses the entire film. When Félix exits the subway, he is met with the extended hand of Prophet. Mistaking the disheveled man with the dark grit of charcoal under his unkempt fingernails as a stranger, Félix turns away. This allegorical moment sets the overarching tone of abandonment for the remainder of the film.

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Félix is next seen driving with Eva to the remote cabin for the reunion. Eva has been hired to join Félix, specifically to pose as his girlfriend. This ruse, though, is never made clear to Eva; presumably, this is to ensure authenticity of her behavior. As the duo arrives, Sara welcomes them and the others to this overdue get-together. Initially, everyone is on their best behavior. They are convivial and seemingly overjoyed at the prospect of seeing one another after two decades. The group decides to partake in their old ritual of immolating a slip of paper with their negative thoughts written on them in the roaring campfire. This act of symbolic penitence follows the religious theme. Civility, though, is short lived as Hugo attempts to secretly seduce Eva but is seen by Cova. Shortly after this encounter, Sergio decides to disrobe and burn his clothing in an act of drunken debauchery. As contrition quickly devolves into transgression and chaos, a preternaturally brilliant light and thundering noise quiets the group. Refocused by the event, the group attempts to discover what happened only to find that their vehicles and all electronics have been disabled. The group speculates in fear about what might have occurred. The theories range from an EMP blast to a terror attack. At this moment Prophet comes under suspicion since he is the only person who has yet to arrive. Many refer to Prophet as a psychopath capable of causing such as disaster. Sara adamantly defends Prophet, as she has been the only person to visit Prophet in the asylum; she then admits that it was Prophet who actually wanted her to arrange the meeting. As a newcomer to the group, Eva asks what could drive a friend to want to cause them harm. Hugo tells the story of how Prophet was normal if not a bit boring. At their last reunion, they physically forced him to take drugs, to lighten him up, which led to a seizure. After the seizure Prophet was never the same, having developed a Cassandra complex. Prophet was convinced that he knew the course of the end of the world and was institutionalized for many years for his delusions. There are no signs of sabotage caused by Prophet, though, and the group is at a loss for how to proceed. With no answers and no means for leaving the cabin, the group retires for the night. The next morning the group finds that Sergio is missing without a trace. After unsuccessfully attempting to start the vehicles, the group decides to hike the nearest potential source of help. First the group encounters a home and inside they find a scene reminiscent of the Rapture. The home appears to have been deserted with haste, mid meal, and all of the electrical devices are also disabled at 12:20 a.m., the time of the event. With nothing to offer here, they move on. Forging on, they find an abandoned campground with expensive climbing equipment strangely left for the taking. A mysterious figure stands on the precipice of the mountain, looking down at the group. With no better alternative, they decide to hike the mountain and track this person down. While walking a narrow mountain path, a pack of wild goats stampedes the group. Much to Hugo’s dismay, Cova disappears. The group assumes that she fell off the mountain, but there is no evidence of the fall, nor is her body at the bottom of the cliff. They traverse the dangerous path, now close to nightfall, and discuss the trials that they have met with some consternation.

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Again, many in the group blame Prophet. It is suggested that he possibly set up this gauntlet of pain, including the rogue goats, as long overdue retribution. Without light, in the waning hours of the night, the group again decides to sleep. The next morning Rafa becomes the next member to simply vanish. The group, reduced to five, now walks down a rocky path and hears what sounds like baby cries. They all quickly respond and find that the wails are from a crashed truck full of sheep. The side railing near the truck has been ripped open by another vehicle evidently veering to avoid collision. The group inspects the sedan at the bottom of the hill and discover the corpse of Prophet. He appears to have died just prior to the event as evidenced by his broken watch, perhaps justifying the existence of the body. Sara is nearly inconsolable. While the women minister to her grief, Félix retrieves the book of sketches and departs with Hugo for a dip in a nearby body of water. Félix attempts to engage Hugo in an intimate conversation. It is here heavily insinuated that Félix and Hugo had a tryst during a prior visit to the cabin and that Félix still holds a fervid torch. Hugo mocks Félix for bringing Eva as such an obvious subterfuge and admits that he cannot give Félix what he desires. Hugo then dips beneath the clear waters of the lake but never resurfaces, cutting the group down to four. Félix mourns the disappearance of his friend but moves quickly to rejoin the others. The group moves on to an empty campground. As they are scavenging, a meteorite ominously streaks overhead. They manage to locate bicycles to make the journey less arduous. Before leaving, though, Sara decides to feed a seemingly domestic dog stranded by the campers. Upon doing so, a pack of dogs, now seemingly feral, surround Sara. The group manages to escape the ordeal and pedal dangerously fast down a mountain road with the dogs in tow. Sara is at the back of the group, and she and the dogs simply disappear while descending. When the remaining three ride back, they find a bicycle with the rear wheel still spinning. The three members of the group ride on. They see smoke billowing in the distance. Félix examines Prophet’s sketchbook to find an identical scene within the contents. The group discovers that the flames are from a downed passenger airliner. In all of the rubble, no human remains are discovered. Again, they decide to move forward in their quest to find help and answers. The three find an ornate church that resembles a castle in sheer size and design. Félix rings the church bells, hoping to attract attention. After doing so, Félix sits with Maribel to share the contents of the sketchbook. A sketch shows them speaking in the pews exactly as they are in that moment. Eva is sleeping farther back in the pews. All three are alerted by the shrieks of a child. The group finally sees another living person. A child stands at the bottom of a steep stone staircase. The girl runs off due to the guttural sounds of an unseen monster. The group chases the girl down to a boat on the docks. The girl locks herself in the cabin of the boat. Maribel attempts to coax the girl out through one of the windows, but the girl refuses to make eye contact. Once she does, though, Maribel becomes the first witness of the dematerialization. As Maribel cries, they see the source of the girl’s fears. A lion has followed them to the docks. They start to escape by unmooring the boat. After witnessing

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the girl’s disappearance, Maribel appears to lose the desire to live and marches toward the lion and her demise. Alone and adrift, Félix and Eva engage in a heavy-handed existential conversation. Félix ponders if existence matters if no one is witness to that existence. Eva answers pragmatically that life is only what a person makes of it from birth to death. The two lay in the inside of the ship in bed and share a kiss. Félix awakens the next morning and finds that Eva has not disappeared and is merely on the deck watching the horizon. The film ends with them gripping each other’s hands and the boat sailing into the vast ocean. Fin was screened at the 2012 Toronto International Film Festival. It has received mixed reviews and was not compared favorably to David Monteagudo’s novel. The film was nominated for Best Adapted Screenplay at the Cinema Writers Circle Awards and for Best Screenplay at the Goya Awards, but lost in both instances. The film did win the Jury Prize at the Gérardmer Film Festival. —Evan Marmol

LA FLOR DE MI SECRETO (THE FLOWER OF MY SECRET) (1995) Director: Pedro Almodóvar Screenplay: Pedro Almodóvar Specs: 105 minutes; color La flor de mi secreto is a 1995 drama film directed by Pedro Almodóvar. It tells the story of a famed but anonymous romance writer and the personal struggles in her life with those around her. It is Almodóvar’s 11th feature film and a clear sign of a turning point in his career as a writer and director. Released two years after the artistic and critical failure of Kika, La flor de mi secreto was met with critical acclaim and was submitted as Spain’s official entry in the Foreign Film category for the Academy Awards, though it failed to be nominated. It also received seven Goya nominations, including Best Director and Best Actress. Much like other Almodóvar productions, there is overlap between this film and his subsequent projects. There is a novel described in La flor de mi secreto concerning a woman who buries her abusive husband in a freezer. This plot would be recycled and further developed for Almodóvar’s successful Volver (2006). A minor plot featuring a supporting character’s profession of counseling doctors on trying to persuade surviving relatives to permit organ donations from deceased loved ones is also a prominent feature in the director’s 1999 film Todo sobre mi madre. The plot of La flor de mi secreto revolves around “Leo” (Marisa Paredes), a successful romance writer who wishes to remain anonymous under the pseudonym Amanda Gris. One morning, Leo cannot take the boots off that her estranged husband bought her years earlier. She needs her friend, “Betty” (Carme Elias), to help her remove them. Betty is a psychologist whose focus is working with doctors who need to deliver unfortunate news to the loved ones of deceased patients. On this particular morning, Betty is hosting a seminar, but Leo decides

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Rossy de Palma and Marisa Paredes. Sony Pictures Classics / Photofest © Sony Pictures Classics

to track her friend down. When she arrives, Betty removes the boots and tells Leo she is very concerned for her friend. At Leo’s home, her dedicated maid, “Blanca” (Manuela Vargas), tries to keep life in order for her employer. She reminds Leo to take her pills, as well as cooks, cleans, and tries to avoid noticing Leo’s drinking problem. Blanca is a former dancer, now retired due to her age, but her son, “Antonio” (Joaquín Cortés), is mounting a show in an effort to start his own career and return his mother to the spotlight. Leo is unaware of her maid’s past life or the project Antonio is preparing. Deciding to try and change the direction of her career, Leo visits the offices of El País, a reputable newspaper, for a literary critic position. She meets “Ángel” (Juan Echanove), the editor, and gives him samples of her writing. He asks Leo about her favorite genre as well as her opinion of Amanda Gris, to which she responds by referring to it as feminine literature and that Amanda Gris is garbage. Ángel, surprised, defends Amanda Gris’s work all the while not knowing he is actually speaking to the author herself. Leo storms out of the office and Ángel realizes he was too harsh. Leo visits her mother (Chus Lampreave) and her sister, “Rosa” (Rossy de Palma), who live together with Rosa’s alcoholic husband. The two are constantly fighting and insulting each other. None of this fazes Leo because through the arguing there is a clear bond between the mother and her child. The mother insists she is going blind and dying and wishes to return to her native village, but

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neither daughter will allow it due to the woman’s frail condition. Shortly before leaving, Leo gives her sister a large sum of money to help her through a difficult time as her husband refuses to work and continues to drink heavily. Later that evening, Ángel calls Leo, apologizes for his earlier behavior, and offers her the position, which she happily accepts. She wants to share her good news and decides to call her husband, “Paco” (Imanol Arias), a colonel stationed in Brussels, but when he answers he not only is unhappy she called but also believes Leo is drunk. She tells him she will call in the morning, but Paco has already hung up the phone. The next morning, Leo visits the publishers of her Amanda Gris novels, “Alicia” (Gloria Muñoz) and “Tomás” (Juan José Otegui), because she wants to hear their feedback on a manuscript she delivered titled The Cold-Storage Room, a novel of an abusive husband killed by his daughter and buried in a freezer. They are not enthusiastic and threaten to sue Leo for breach of contract unless she writes true romance books, not dark material like the book she presented to them. Frustrated, Leo leaves and goes to Betty’s house. While there, Paco calls. This makes Betty act oddly, but Leo is simply happy to speak with her husband. Paco tells Leo that he has been granted a 24-hour leave and will be home in three days. Leo is ecstatic and begins to plan for a night of food, wine, and sex. That same day, she also discovers Ángel published her first article. She visits El País to thank him personally and reveals the news that her husband is coming home. Not knowing Leo has a husband, Ángel is disappointed because he clearly is attracted to her. The night Paco is due in, Blanca is preparing dinner when Antonio arrives, urging his mother to leave early for a dance rehearsal. Leo intervenes and lets her maid off for the evening. Paco arrives and immediately turns an evening Leo expected to be filled with romance into a depressing experience. The food is cold, he needs to shower, and he does not want to touch his wife. He finally tells her that he only has two hours until he needs to report back to his army base. This news throws Leo into a rage and Paco storms out, stating that their marriage is finished. Devastated, Leo goes to her medicine cabinet and swallows half a bottle of pills. She lies down and passes out. A short time later, the phone rings, and it is her mother informing her that she is leaving for her old village. The sound of her mother’s voice rattles an almost unconscious Leo awake and she manages to vomit up the pills and jump in a cold shower. By morning she has regained some composure to walk to the nearest bar. While sitting there, she realizes that she has become lost to her own life. Leaving the bar, she literally runs into the arms of Ángel, who takes her back to his apartment. The next morning, Leo wakes up and Ángel informs her that she told him “the secret of her flower,” that she is Amanda Gris. He promises to keep her secret as long as Leo does not try to kill herself again. Ángel then takes Leo home. Betty is there upon their arrival and admits to having an affair with Paco for years—thus explaining why he called her home the day Leo visited. While Betty confesses, Leo’s mother calls and tells her daughter again she is leaving for her village, but Leo tells her that she is coming with her.

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Ángel drives Leo and her mother to the village, where they are greeted by several older women who have known Leo’s mother since childhood. Several months pass and Leo has become a regular in the daily activities of the village’s women. A phone call comes one day from her publisher, informing her that the two recent books they received are wonderful. Leo does not tell them, but she did not write any further books under Amanda Gris’s name. Ángel then calls and tells her he wrote the books and submitted them, pretending to be “Amanda.” She is grateful and soon returns to Madrid. One evening, Ángel and Leo go to the theater to see Blanca and Antonio’s show. Afterward, she tells Blanca how wonderful it was and then leaves with Ángel, who is now very drunk. On the way home, Ángel admits to Leo that he is deeply in love with her, but she tells him that he is being foolish and needs to go home and sleep off the alcohol. Once she arrives at her house, there is a knock at the door and it is Antonio. Over a drink, he admits to stealing things around the house for the past few years to fund his dance show. Antonio tells Leo that he will pay her back every peseta and then leaves. Leo then decides to visit Ángel, who is still awake. She tells him that perhaps there is a way for them to start a relationship. As they sit in front of a fire, they kiss and toast a drink to a promising new year, a new year together. Unlike the failed venture that was Kika, Almodóvar approached this film differently. There is a noticeable change, even maturity, between La flor de mi secreto and his prior efforts. Although the soap operatic antics of his earlier works are certainly present, there is a much more somber tone employed here. The actions of the characters have real-life consequences and their emotions are played honestly and not for comedic effect. Perhaps the most striking element of the film is how the director handles his characters. Unlike the unsympathetic treatment Almodóvar gave to Kika or Gloria in ¿Qué he hecho yo para merecer esto?, the writer/director seems to actually care and even respect the women he has placed on-screen. This change in attitude seems to have stuck with Almodóvar as his later films such as Todo sobre mi madre (1999) and Volver (2006) have similar approaches to their female protagonists. See also Los abrazos rotos (Broken Embraces); Pedro Almodóvar (Appendix A); ¡Átame! (Tie Me Up! Tie Me Down!); Carne trémula (Live Flesh); Chus Lampreave (Appendix A); La ley del deseo (Law of Desire); Kika (Kika); Matador (Matador); Mujeres al borde de un ataque de nervios (Women on the Edge of a Nervous Breakdown); Marisa Paredes (Appendix A); ¿Qué he hecho yo para merecer esto? (What Have I Done to Deserve This?); Tacones lejanos (High Heels) Bibliography D’Lugo, Marvin. Pedro Almodóvar (Contemporary Film Directors). Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2006. Edward, Gwynne. Almodovar: Labyrinths of Passion. London: Peter Owen, 2001.

—Jonathan Clark

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FLORES DE OTRO MUNDO (FLOWERS FROM ANOTHER WORLD) (1999) Director: Icíar Bollaín Screenplay: Icíar Bollaín and Julio Llamazares Specs: 108 minutes; color Flores de otro mundo is the second feature-length film of actor-turned-director Icíar Bollaín. It won six awards at various film festivals, including the Mercedes Benz Award for Bollaín at Cannes, as well as three awards at the Bordeaux International Festival of Women in Cinema—the Audience Award for director Bollaín; the Golden Wave Award for Best Actress, split by the entire female cast; and the Golden Wave Award for Best Screenplay for writers Bollaín and Julio Llamazares. The film was also given a nod from the central awarding bodies in Spain for Best Original Screenplay at the Goyas and the Círculo de Escritores Cinematográficos Awards, as well as recognition of Luis Tosar as Best Newcomer at the Goyas and the Círculo de Escritores Cinematográficos Awards, and by the Spanish Actors Union. As the film opens, a bus filled with women arrives in the central Spanish province of Guadalajara. The depopulated town’s men, desperate to find wives, are holding a mixer with women imported from across Spain and Latin America. The bus brings two of the primary female protagonists to the film’s forefront— “Marirrosi” (Elena Irureta), a divorcée from Bilbao, and “Patricia” (Lissete Mejía), a Dominican mulata and mother of two children. Marirrosi attracts the attention

Chete Lera and Luis Tosar. Bulbeck & Mas / Photofest © Bulbeck & Mas

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of “Alfonso” (Chete Lera), a kind man and the lead organizer of the festivities. For her part, Patricia catches the eye of “Damián” (Luis Tosar), a farmer whose overbearing mother, “Gregoria” (Amparo Valle), still seems to run his life. At the party, a rowdy and machista townsman, “Carmelo” (José Sancho), brags about the dark, sumptuous Cuban woman, “Milady” (Marilyn Torres), whom he met in Havana and is bringing to Spain to become his wife, the third primary female protagonist of the film. When Milady arrives, it is clear that the rather xenophobic and insular town has difficulty accepting her. Not only is she afro-cubana, a racial outsider in the provincial town, but she dresses too provocatively for the townsfolk. For his part, Carmelo sees her as little more than the exoticized fetish object that he desires to conquer, much like the conquistadors of the colonial period. At one point Milady displeases him, and Carmelo beats her. She is his to do with what he pleases. Milady, however, desires a better future and flees both the town and Carmelo. As an opposing, yet mirrored, “love story,” the Basque Marirrosi finds a gentle companion in Alfonso, who respects her and treats her well. Nonetheless, Alfonso wants her to give up her home in Bilbao to relocate to his provincial Castilian village, a request that she ultimately finds impossible, while he outright rejects the proposal that he move to Bilbao and take up her urban lifestyle. In the end, then, Marirrosi also abandons her beau and provides little hope for the regeneration of the town and, by extension, Spanish society. On the other hand, the relationship between Patricia and Damián proves more fruitful. Initially, Damián’s mother, Gregoria, does not want to accept Patricia. She is an outsider, as well as a cultural and racial other—a mixed-race Dominican woman. Gregoria initially believes her family too good to be sullied by such otherness. For Patricia’s part, she originally makes the trip to Guadalajara looking for greater stability and papers, not love. She is an illegal immigrant with two small children in her care. She finds Damián supportive and even a bit charming, however, and grows to love him. For his part, Damián looks at Patricia as his equal, unlike Carmelo, who seeks to take advantage of his position of cultural and economic superiority over Milady. Their positive relationship, however, is brought to a halt when Patricia’s Dominican husband appears, threatening to expose Patricia to Damián. Trusting the solidarity of her relationship with Damián, Patricia reveals that she was married in the Dominican Republic and does not have formal documentation for what she considers a de facto divorce. Damián’s trust is shattered, and he initially asks Patricia to leave with her children. As they are packing the car to leave, however, Gregoria intervenes, having come to respect her new daughter-in-law and care for her children, whom she now considers her own grandchildren. The reparation of the family is ultimately shown to be complete, as in some of the last scenes of the film, Patricia’s young daughter, “Janay” (Isabel de los Santos) is seen taking her first Holy Communion in the local Catholic Church as the entire blended family proudly watches on. The final scene of the film, in circular fashion, presents the spectator with yet another bus full of women arriving in the town the following year. In such a sense, one of the primary themes of the film is its message of hope for the regeneration of Spain. Such hope does not reside in the leftovers of Franco’s imagined purity of the blood of Old Christian Castile, replicating the

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imperial Spain of 1492. Instead, it rests in productive intercultural encounters between the formerly colonized and their colonizers, between the new men and women of Spain, accepting of cultural and racial difference, like Damián’s family in the end, and the nation’s former others, willing to embrace their previous masters on equal terms, like Patricia and her children. This new familiar model, working toward a blended and hybrid national identity, seems to provide the only hope for national regeneration, as the rather endogamic relationship between Alfonso and Marirrosi seems equally as doomed to fail as the extremely exogamic relationship between closed-minded and abusive Carmelo and his dark fetish object of colonial conquest, Milady. See also Katmandú, un espejo en el cielo (Kathmandu Lullaby); También la lluvia (Even the Rain); Te doy mis ojos (Take My Eyes); Luis Tosar (Appendix A) Bibliography Martín-Cabrera, Luis. “Postcolonial Memories and Racial Violence in Flores de otro mundo.” Journal of Spanish Cultural Studies 3, no. 1 (2002): 43–55. O’Byrne, Patricia. “Transcultural Encounters in Icíar Bollaín’s Flores de otro mundo (1999): From Racism towards Acceptance of the ‘Female Other.’” In Transcultural Encounters Amongst Women: Redrawing Boundaries in Hispanic and Lusophone Art, Literature, and Film, edited by Patricia O’Byrne, Gabrielle Carty, and Niamh Thornton, 167–79. Newcastle, England: Cambridge Scholars Press, 2010. Santaolalla, Isabel. The Cinema of Icíar Bollaín. New York: Manchester University Press, 2012.

—Amanda Eaton McMenamin

FUNCIÓN DE NOCHE (EVENING PERFORMANCE) (1981) Director: Josefina Molina Reig Screenplay: Josefina Molina and José Samano Specs: 90 minutes; color Función de noche is a 1981 film directed by Josefina Molina, who is considered one of the pioneers of feminist cinema in Spain. She became the first woman to obtain the official credential of cinema director given by the Cinematography School of Madrid, and since 1964 her name has been inextricably associated with successful television series as screenwriter and/or director. Apart from winning the most important awards within Spain’s cinema industry, Molina has also written three novels and her legacy is intricately connected with feminism. Currently she is the honorary president of CIMA, the Association of Women Filmmakers in Spain. She was one of its cofounders in 2006 in collaboration with Inés París, Chus Gutiérrez, Icíar Bollaín, and Isabel Coixet. Although Función de noche contains some fragments from the novel Cinco horas con Mario (written by Miguel Delibes), as is specified in the credits, one of the most important aspects of the film is the fact that it mainly portrays the true story of two real actors: Carmen Sotillo, who is played by Lola Hererra and was in real life married for seven years to actor Daniel Dicenta (played by himself). They both play their own roles in the movie, which starts in a theater changing room

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where both protagonists will have a postseparation discussion about the failure of their marriage. What initially appears as an evening performance, hence the title, will subsequently become a summary of Carmen's life. Función de noche portrays the story of a woman throughout a lucid conversation with her ex-husband. She comes to the conclusion that she has been badly educated. In fact, she realizes that she hardly has any education, and as a result, her life has always been to help others before she benefited herself. That includes faking an orgasm, which she acknowledges in one of the best sequences of the film when she discloses that she has never experienced an orgasm in her life, despite being with four men as of the age of 46. Needless to say, Función de noche contains a critique toward the way Spanish women were educated during the dictatorship in Spain, and even post Franco’s time. Función de noche was shot in the early 1980s, when Spain was still under a social, political, and economic transition and women were still educated as essentially objects for their husbands. See also Esquilache (Esquilache) —Enrique Ávila López

FURTIVOS (POACHERS) (1975) Director: José Luis Borau Screenplay: José Luis Borau and Manuel Gutiérrez Aragón Specs: 99 minutes; color After receiving the Golden Shell at the San Sebastián International Film Festival for Furtivos (1975), Spanish producer, screenwriter, and director José Luis Borau gained national and international acclaim and became one of the key directors of the Transición (the political transition to democracy, 1975–1982). The film was released two months before Franco’s death, challenging the censors’ ban for its implicit incestuous relationships, explicit nudity, and violence. It immediately became an enormous commercial success and also the top-grossing film in the history of Spanish film. Furtivos (Poachers) tells the story of an incestuous relationship between “Ángel” (Ovidi Montllor) and his monstrous mother, “Martina” (Lola Gaos). As in fairy tales, the action takes place in a quiet and seemingly innocuous forest. However, in this case, under its peaceful and benign appearance, a world fraught with danger and secrecy prevails, both in hunting and in sexual relationships. Ángel is a poacher who only finds himself at ease away from civilization, living a marginal existence, next to a mother with whom he shares a table and a bed. A third character appears to break the mother-child dyad. “Milagros” (Alicia Sánchez), a young woman who has escaped a reformatory and is trying to hide from the police, accepts Ángel’s protection by marrying him. Everything seems to work for the couple until Martina murders her daughter-in-law. When Ángel finds out, he kills his mother. According to Borau, when he started writing the script for this film, he did not know what the story was going to be about. He only knew that he wanted

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José Luis Borau. Empressa / Photofest © Empressa

to film a story with Spanish actor Lola Gaos in a forest. After watching her play the role of Saturna in Luis Buñuel’s Tristana, he established the connection with Goya’s painting “Saturn Devouring His Son” and decided to portray a monstrous mother that symbolically devours her son. Manuel Gutiérrez Aragón’s contributions to the script accentuated even more the mythical component of the film. It is important to add that the primitive and overbearing mother figure is prevalent in Spanish films of the 1970s: Camada negra (Black Litter, 1977) by Manuel Gutiérrez Aragón, Mamá cumple 100 años (Mamá Turns 100, 1979) by Carlos Saura, and La Sabina by Borau (1979). Furtivos deals with power, repression, and marginality. At its premiere in 1975, the audience immediately understood the allegorical interpretation that Borau himself had advanced in several interviews. The forest represented Spain, a country apparently peaceful but actually governed by all types of repressive acts, violence, and secrecy. Martina was the authoritarian motherland that protected and, at the same time, repressed her children, stunting their growth. Later on, critics such as Peter Evans and María José Gámez Fuentes focused on the transgressive potential of Martina’s character. She deconstructs the idealized maternal model imposed in Franco’s Spain, and by assuming the phallic position, Martina exposes the patriarchal ideology that supports it and highlights the tensions between the oppression that she exercises and the repression that Francoist rhetoric has exercised over her. Peter Evans also underscored the ambivalent treatment of Martina. In his opinion, she is much more than a mi-

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sogynist representation of the mother figure; she is integrated in the patriarchal society, but at the same time she is herself a victim of it. Martina is thus a paradoxical character, trapped in a social order whose ambivalent approach toward the mother figure—marginalized and at the same time revered—makes her relationship with her son equally paradoxical. Other critics, such as Marsha Kinder, have proposed a psychoanalytical reading of this movie by interpreting it as an emblematic example of the Spanish Oedipal narrative, a recurrent model in the Spanish films of the Transition where the patricidal instincts are displaced from the father to the tyrannical and repressive mother. My own reading of this film focuses on the representation of Martina as an abject, archaic mother, a figure that appears even more prominently in Borau’s later movie La Sabina. La Sabina is a dangerous dragoness who sexually assaults and then kills those men who dare enter her cave. The poster that Iván Zulueta created for Furtivos is the iconic representation of this monstrous, archaic mother. Zulueta dehumanizes the maternal image by giving her a grotesque and fierce vulpine face. She does not have eyes and her voracious mouth, with vampire-like fangs, is reminiscent of a vagina dentata. Her phantasmic and diabolic appearance, as well as her giant size—in comparison to the image of Ovidi Montllor, whom she holds in her clawlike hands—are effective visual devices that predispose the audience to justify the chilling act of matricide. In spite of the allegorical readings that this rural film summons, it is grounded in a naturalistic aesthetic that relies on a concise narrative, full of suggestive ellipses. Lola Gao’s performance—underlined by her hoarse voice, fierce look, emaciated face, and thin body—is impeccable, especially in the scene where she is violently dragged by Ángel from their bed or when, to show her rejection of Milagros, she brutally kills a she-wolf. Luis Cuadrado’s photography, with his masterful manipulation of the chiaroscuro, creates a claustrophobic atmosphere that fits the film’s main theme. Behind its apparent simple structure, reminiscent of fairy tales such as “Hansel and Gretel,” Furtivos presents the audience with an impeccably crafted script where every single image and word is a part of a perfectly constructed puzzle. Bibliography Evans, Peter. “Furtivos (Borau, 1975): My Mother, My Lover.” Spanish Cinema: The Auteurist Tradition, edited by Peter Evans. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999. Gámez Fuentes, María José. Cinematergrafía: La madre en el cine y la literatura de lademocracia. Castellón de la Plana: Publicacions de la Universitat Jaume I, 2004. Gómez, María Asunción. La madre muerta: El mito matricida en la literatura y el cine españoles. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2016. Kinder, Marsha. Blood Cinema. The Reconstruction of National Identity in Spain. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1993.

—María Asunción Gómez

1 •  G  • LOS GIRASOLES CIEGOS (THE BLIND SUNFLOWERS) (2008) Director: José Luis Cuerda Screenplay: Rafael Azcona and José Luis Cuerda Specs: 98 minutes; color Based on one of the four parts of Alberto Méndez’s eponymous novel and set in Galicia in the aftermath of the Spanish Civil War, Los girasoles ciegos explores the feelings of four characters who are trapped in their inner selves and desperately seeking their ideological and spiritual freedom. The film was nominated for 15 Goya Awards and won one (Best Screenplay—Adapted). It represented Spain in the 2009 Academy Awards, but it did not make it into the finalists’ shortlist. Los girasoles ciegos tells the story of “Salvador” (Raúl Arévalo), a Francoist disoriented deacon who, after an identity crisis, is sent as a teacher to an elementary school in Ourense. There he gets obsessed with “Elena” (Maribel Verdú), the sensual mother of “Lorenzo” (Roger Princep), one of his second-grade students. Elena keeps a secret that has tormented her for many years. She is married to “Ricardo” (Javier Cámara), a literature professor who lives hidden in a small

Javier Cámara and Maribel Verdú. © Photofest

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room. He is a topo (“mole”), as are many other Republican sympathizers who had to go into hiding to avoid Franco-fired repression after the war was officially over. The interruption of Salvador into their lives creates a conflict that will end by unleashing a tragedy. The theme of the “mole” had been already explored in previous films, such as Alfonso Ungría’s El hombre oculto (1970) and Fernando Fernán-Gómez’s Mambrú se fue a la guerra (1986), as well as in history books, as was the case of Jesús Torbado and Manuel Leguineche’s Los topos (1977). In Cuerda’s film, Ricardo is a Republican who hides to avoid being arrested; but the mole is here only part of the story. It is rather the symbol of the extreme repression (both political and sexual) during postwar Spain. Regardless of their ideology, all characters live entangled in a web of lies. They either hide the truth or do not truly understand their condition. Lorenzo has to lie to his professor when he tells him that his mother taught him arithmetic because his father died in the war. Salvador lies to his superior and to Elena when he says he needs to go to the dentist, so he can walk with her on the streets. The dialogue between Salvador and the Falange captain, which is not part of the novel, adds to this network of simulations and impostures. All this works against the Manicheism that was characteristic of most films on the Spanish Civil War, while placing Cuerda’s work—along with other similar examples like Agustí Villaronga’s Pa negre (2010)—within a revisionist trend of recent Spanish cinema. As for the meaning of the title, a blind sunflower is one that does not turn to face the sunlight, a person who has lost the meaning of life. This is the metaphor that articulates both Alberto Méndez’s novel and José Luis Cuerda’s film. By combining sinful sex with ignominious religion, in the tradition of Luis Buñuel, José Luis Cuerda re-creates a somber period in Spanish history. Even though it deals with the world of feelings, the film avoids sentimentalism at all costs. Los girasoles ciegos is, according to Cuerda, a film about impossible and forbidden love. None of the characters can freely express their emotions, nor can they achieve their expectations. They have nothing to do, and when they try, they suffer and pay for it. Their love inexorably faces a wall. The fact that this story of forbidden love is played in the context of one of the most repressive periods of modern Spanish history is significant as well. Like Alberto Méndez’s novel, Cuerda’s film highlights the ways in which Franco’s regime created a system of oppression that played an important role in legitimizing acts of violence, such as physical and psychological torture. See also Pa negre / Pan negro (Black Bread) Bibliography Bernárdez Rodal, Asunción. “De la violencia institucional a la violencia de género: últimas representaciones cinematográficas de la Guerra Civil en el cine español contemporáneo.” Revista canadiense de estudios hispánicos 34 (2009): 61–75. Deveny, Thomas. “Los girasoles ciegos: la memoria de la represión.” In Teoría y práctica de la adaptación fílmica, edited by Barbara Zecchi, 255–70. Madrid: Editorial Complutense, 2012.

—Santiago Juan-Navarro

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GORDOS (FAT PEOPLE) (2009) Director: Daniel Sánchez Arévalo Screenplay: Daniel Sánchez Arévalo Specs: 110 minutes; color Gordos is a 2009 drama film directed by Daniel Sánchez Arévalo. The film follows the interwoven stories of a group of young and middle-aged men and women who regularly attend a group therapy addressing the physical and emotional issues associated with obesity. Shooting for the film took 11 months, as actors were required to gain and lose weight for the film. The film won the Best Supporting Actor award at the Premios Goya 2010. It also won four Spanish Actors Union Awards in 2010 (Best Actress, Performance in a Minor Male Role, Performance in a Minor Female Role, and Supporting Female Performance), as well as three awards at the Monte Carlo Comedy Film Festival (Best Actor, Best Actress, and Best Screenplay). The film is framed by a parody of the TV lose-weight-pill commercial format conducted by TV star “Enrique Fresán” (Antonio de la Torre). When Enrique gets overweight again and joins the therapy group, other characters who attend the same group are introduced to the spectator: therapist “Abel” (Roberto Enríquez) and his partner, “Paula” (Verónica Sánchez); “Álex” (Raúl Arévalo) and his fiancée, “Sofía” (Leticia Herrero), a couple who live by (his) strict religious rules and have never had sex with each other; “Andrés” (Fernando Albizu) and his wife,

Roberto Enríquez, Antonio de la Torre, and Fernando Albizu. Cinemien / Photofest © Cinemien

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“Beatriz” (Teté Delgado), a married couple who enjoy a satisfying sexual life while parenting a typically dysfunctional teenage son, “Luis” (Adam Jezierski), and an obese daughter, “Nuria” (Marta Jurado); and “Leonor” (María Morales), a young professional woman living on her own while her fiancé spends a year abroad working on an assignment. Using a nonchronological, parallel montage with each of the five stories moving backward and forward, the film follows the four-step plan outlined by the TV show method: Honesty, Action, Perseverance, Success. Enrique’s story has frequent flashback-inserts of his TV show, a clever parody of the stultifying and cruel tactics of the genre. This complex character has several angles. Firstly, he is a gay man who developed obesity as a self-defense mechanism. Secondly, he reveals how he lost his TV contract when he was unable to keep his weight under control—leading him to a new cycle of overeating, obesity, and sex with male prostitutes. Thirdly, he kills his former business partner and reluctantly enters a relationship with his deranged widow, “Pilar” (Pilar Castro), who insists on having sex with him even though she knows he is gay. In therapy, he makes frequent connections between these three subplots. He particularly insists on the relation between his gay sexuality, his eating disorder, and his overwhelming lack of sincerity with himself. Paula, the therapist’s partner, has a difficult pregnancy and she develops depression and a huge self-image problem. Abel grows increasingly dissatisfied; he becomes extremely anxious as he realizes that he can’t stand the shape of Paula’s pregnant body, which he wrongly and unwillingly sees as fat. Their relationship deteriorates rapidly. One day Paula interrupts Abel’s therapy group and angrily accuses him of ruining her life. This tantrum, in front of his clients, reverses Abel’s role and demonstrates that the therapist’s own mental and sentimental problems are more similar to those of his clients than anybody would have thought. Álex and Sofía embark on an active sexual life despite his (often humorous) religious misgivings; yet, he fails to properly understand her self-esteem problems and eventually falls into a self-deceiving and selfish voyeuristic obsession. When she succeeds in losing weight, she drops him and decides to start afresh. Unexpectedly, she then finds out that she is pregnant and develops a guilt-driven obesity. In an ambiguous ending, she either marries him or he dies. The dysfunctional family of Andrés, Beatriz, Luis, and Nuria (always seen happily sharing Pantagruelian meals at home) runs into problems when teenage Luis becomes suspicious that he might have been adopted (he is the only nonobese member of the family). DNA tests show that both siblings are from different fathers, a secret Beatriz always kept to herself that now threatens to ruin the family’s cohesion. Leonor’s fiancé returns home sooner than expected. In therapy, she realizes that her obesity problem is related to self-esteem and co-dependency issues. She leaves the group, only to return at a later stage to have an informal pub conversation with the therapist in which she reveals that she leads a compulsive sexual life with a multitude of successive lovers. All stories’ conclusions are offered in the final credits sequence: emotional balances are restored in all cases except Abel and Paula’s. Ironically, it is Enrique

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who provides the film’s morale from within the TV show. Looking directly at the camera, he states, “Success means to stop watching me and start to look after you.” Through a smart use of discursive modes associated to body dysmorphic disorders (BDD), such as the cognitive-behavioral therapy and the TV infomercial, the film raises (but fails to address in a sustained way) issues typically associated with BDD such as obsessive-compulsive disorder and social anxieties. The film also raises issues of guilt, loneliness, blocked communication, self-sabotaging, and a number of binary opposites: love/sex, repression/liberation, authenticity/ dishonesty, happiness/unhappiness. Sex, more than body shape, is presented as the crux of most of these issues. See also Azuloscurocasinegro (Dark Blue Almost Black); La gran familia española (Family United) Bibliography Icart Isern, M. Teresa, and M. Carmen Icart Isern. “Gordos (2009): la obesidad en el cine y su utilización en la docencia.” Revista de medicina y cine 6, no. 1 (2013): 3–10.

—Alfredo Martínez-Expósito

GOYA EN BURDEOS (GOYA IN BORDEAUX) (1999) Director: Carlos Saura Screenplay: Carlos Saura Specs: 100 minutes; color Goya en Burdeos is the 33rd film by Carlos Saura, a Spanish director active since the 1950s and renowned for films such as La caza (The Hunt, 1966), Mama cumple 100 años (Mum Is Celebrating Her 100 Years, 1979), ¡Ay, Carmela! (1990), and Tango (1999). Goya en Burdeos won several awards, including five Goya Awards, a European Film Award, and two prizes at the Montréal World Film Festival. The story is focused on the last years in the life of the famous Spanish Romantic painter and printmaker Francisco José Goya y Lucientes (1746–1828), an artist internationally renowned for magnificent and innovative works such as La Maja Desnuda (1787–1790), Charles IV of Spain and His Family (1801), and the “Caprichos” drawings (1797–1799). In his works, Goya’s talent for expressing his characters’ physical characteristics as much as their psychologies is manifest, whether his subjects are the Spanish aristocrats and royalty or the sequences of daily life. Goya suffered from a severe illness in 1793 that left him completely deaf, after which he produced some of his most peculiar (and pessimistic) paintings, characterized by the presence of many deformed creatures and monsters, such as Saturn Devouring His Sons (1819–1823). In 1824 he exiled himself to the French town of Bordeaux, where he completed the “La Tauromaquia” series of drawings and died after a couple of years. Saura’s film depicts the painter’s life with his daughter, Rosalita (Dafne Fernández), and his servant, Leocadia (Eulalia Ramón), in the Quinta del Sordo

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Francisco Rabal. Sony Pictures Classics / Photofest © Sony Pictures Classics

villa. The narrative unfolds following the protagonist’s memories of his experience as the salaried court painter, the severe illness that caused his deafness, and his decision to exile himself in France, which is motivated by his discontent with the overflowing ignorance, corruption, and calumny in Spain. Particular relevance is given to Goya’s encounter with the Duchess of Alba (a seducing Maribel Verdú), who appears as a vision/hallucination throughout the film and becomes the obsessive love of the painter’s life as well as the incarnation of death waiting for him. The young Goya (interpreted by José Coronado) talks and walks along with the old one, offering his daughter (and the viewer) life lessons and comments on human existence as much as presenting a meta-artistic discourse on how a work is conceived in the painter’s mind and then realized into practice. Exemplary is the character’s explanation of his artistic inspirations (the painters Velázquez, Rembrandt, and nature itself) while he walks along a gallery filled with many of his works. The most fascinating aspect of the film concerns the mixture of history and biography with fantasy, visions, nightmares, and the re-creation of the painter’s works through a series of tableaux vivants (especially those re-enacting bluntly the executions of people by the soldiers during the 1808–1814 Peninsular War). The result is a magnificent assembly of enchanting images that unite a masterful use of lighting and shadows with a meticulous study of colors. On the other hand, although the visual effect achieved by the corridors made of transparent walls (whose consistency changes according to the use of the lights) is extremely

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innovative, many of the interior settings of the Quinta del Sordo are clearly (and unnecessarily) unrealistic and reveal the studio nature of the production, a technique that returns in many of Saura’s films (such as the 2001 Salomé) but that could disturb some viewers’ suspension of disbelief. Francisco Rabal is exceptional in his interpretation of the painter as a grumpy and melancholic old man who does not accept his imminent death and is isolated from the rest of the surrounding world because of his deafness. His heavy breathing, senile confusion, and slow movements, however, conquer the affection of the spectator and transform the film into a picture of the life of a human being who is devoted to his work, his country, and his family—a picture that transcends the specificity of the character. Although the film’s slow pace could be tedious for some spectators, Goya en Burdeos can be appreciated by both those viewers who are familiar with the life and works of the painter and those who shall probably discover him after watching the film. See also Bodas de sangre (Blood Wedding); Carlos Saura (Appendix A) —Antonio Sanna

LA GRAN FAMILIA ESPAÑOLA (FAMILY UNITED) (2013) Director: Daniel Sánchez Arévalo Screenplay: Daniel Sánchez Arévalo Specs: 95 minutes; color La gran familia española is a 2013 film directed by Daniel Sánchez Arévalo. The film tells the story of a family wedding reunion on the day that Spain wins the 2010 FIFA World Cup (July 11, 2010). The film won the Best Supporting Actor and the Best Original Song awards at the Premios Goya 2014. It also won two Spanish Actors Union Awards in 2014 (Performance in a Minor Female Role and Supporting Male Performance). The film makes strong references to film classics such as La gran familia (1962), directed by Fernando Palacios with screenplay by Pedro Masó, Rafael J. Salvia, and Antonio Vich, and Seven Brides for Seven Brothers (1954), directed by Stanley Donen with screenplay by Albert Hackett, Frances Goodrich, and Dorothy Kingsley. The latter frames the film in its opening and closing sequences and is an important part of the plot as a longtime favorite of the protagonist family. Taking it as a model, “Father” (Héctor Colomé) and his wife (never seen onscreen) decided to name their children after the same biblical names of Donen’s film: “Adán” (Antonio de la Torre), “Benjamín” (Roberto Álamo), “Caleb” (Quim Gutiérrez), “Daniel” (Miquel Fernández), and “Efraín” (Patrick Criado as a young adult; Teo Planell as a boy). La gran familia española borrows from La gran familia an explicit interest in redefining the family institution alongside prevalent sociopolitical notions: national-Catholic hetero-patriarchy in the 1960s, subjective sexual eclecticism in the 2000s. It also borrows an interest in framing family as a metaphor for the whole nation; the film’s narrative uses the 2010 FIFA World Cup final match (Spain’s first and only win in the competition’s history) as a TV

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Patrick Criado and Arancha Martí. Warner Bros. / Photofest © Warner Bros.

live broadcast background to the suspended family wedding reunion that centers the film’s argument. A choral film, La gran familia española occurs in one day: Efraín and “Carla’s” (Arancha Martí) wedding is suspended as Efraín’s father suffers a stroke during the ceremony. Efraín’s brother Caleb, who has just arrived after a two-year medical humanitarian mission abroad, takes care of the father. In the ensuing hours, while the father agonizes and Spain’s team wins the World Cup for the nation, a number of tensions unfold and eventually get resolved among the brothers. Adán, the oldest brother, resents that nobody takes him seriously—not himself, not even his own daughter or his mentally handicapped brother Benjamín. He is mortified by the fact that his father confided to Benjamín his safe box’s code, but not to him. In the end, though, his moribund father whispers the code to him and asks him to care for his younger brothers. Efraín’s story revolves around the emotional turmoil caused by two competing sentimental partners: his bride, Carla, and their common friend “Mónica” (Sandra Martín). This coming-of-age subplot is resolved when the three characters accept the possibility of a three-way loving relationship. The triangle formed by Caleb, Daniel, and “Cris” (Verónica Echegui) is more complex as Daniel’s backstory of admiration and subjugation toward his brother Caleb results in a sentimental competition for Caleb’s fiancée, Cris. Cris and Daniel became engaged sentimentally when Caleb left for his humanitarian mission. Their relationship is challenged by Caleb’s return. After some intense three-way interactions, Cris decides to remain loyal to Daniel.

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Meanwhile, the brothers manage to open their father’s safe and find gold ingots and old photos inside. An unknown man appears in many of the photos with their mother. This is how they come to learn about their (absent) mother’s secret. Caleb then reveals what he knows about it: years earlier through a medical routine, he found that their father was and had always been infertile. Mother knew it and decided to go ahead with their plan to have a huge family, just to make him happy. She secretly engaged with a succession of lovers and got pregnant from each of them. Their father never knew. Caleb admits that this discovery made him distrust the notion of family from any possible perspective. Interestingly, Caleb’s revelation, which explains and closes the film’s plot, occurs immediately after the climactic moment of Spain’s only goal—celebrating reactions are beautifully shot in slow motion to an asynchronous introspective soundtrack by Josh Rouse. Although it is unclear whether some of the plot elements bear any resemblance to Sánchez Arévalo’s personal family experiences, it is worth noting that the film cast includes his own mother, Carmen Arévalo, and his stepfather, Héctor Colomé. Some of the film’s main themes are common to most of Sánchez Arévalo’s previous long features: the dysfunctional family, happiness and its discontents, and the tension between authenticity and communication. While these themes lead themselves more naturally to dramatic genres, La gran familia española seeks to envelop them in a choral comedy format; as a result, the film comes through as a generic hybrid that resonates equally well with comedic and dramatic generic modes. See also Azuloscurocasinegro (Dark Blue Almost Black); Gordos (Fat People) —Alfredo Martínez-Expósito

GRUPO 7 (UNIT 7) (2012) Director: Alberto Rodríguez Screenplay: Rafael Cobos, based on a story by Rafael Cobos and Alberto Rodríguez Specs: 96 minutes; color Grupo 7 is a film directed by Alberto Rodríguez. The film tells the story of an undercover police unit charged with the mission of cleaning up the streets of Sevilla in advance of Expo ’92. In their fight against drugs, the unit employs extralegal methods to achieve their goal. The film won Best New Actor (Joaquín Núñez) and Best Supporting Actor (Julián Villagrán) in the 2013 Premios Goya. A police thriller loosely based on two units of the Brigada de Seguridad Ciudadana (Citizen’s Security Brigade), Grupo 7 is a portrait of the corruption and impunity behind the hypermodern image Spain sought to project through the mega-events of 1992. The plot of the film revolves around the members of the police unit, led by Rafael (Antonio de la Torre), a violent but effective cop, and “Ángel” (Mario Casas), a young, ambitious officer who follows Rafael’s example as they attempt to take down Sevilla’s drug-trafficking networks over several years. The film opens

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Antonio de la Torre. Film Factory Entertainment / Photofest © Film Factory Entertainment

with Rafael lighting a votive candle inside a church before cutting to archival footage of construction undertaken for the Expo ’92. 1987: Ángel solicits drugs from “Joaquín” (Julián Villagrán) while the other members of the unit follow in a car. A foot chase through the neighborhood ensues until Ángel corners “Amador” (Alfonso Sánchez) on a church rooftop. Amador holds a knife to Ángel’s throat when Rafael appears. Fearless, he uses brute force to free Ángel before thrusting Amador over the side of the building, making him promise to never return to the area. Days later, during a roundup of suspected drug dealers, Rafael sees Amador and is furious. The suspects are taken to a river. While Amador is handcuffed inside a car, Rafael has the others strip to their underwear and pours gasoline on their clothes. He tells them to run away, never to return to the city center. Amador claims such treatment is illegal; Rafael brutally attacks him before Ángel pulls him off. When Ángel tells Amador he’ll transport him to a hospital after he gives them the name of his supplier, Amador spits in his face. Rafael threatens Amador with a hammer until he reveals the source: “La Caoba” (Estefanía de los Santos). The unit raids the brothel run by La Caoba. Before the national police arrive, Ángel pockets a sizable amount of the drugs they found on site, arguing that the unit can use them to turn junkies into informants. The others agree to the scheme and take La Caoba with them. Ángel, who has just had a child with his wife, “Elena” (Inma Cuesta), is promoted to detective. 1988: The unit employs Ángel’s strategy, which works, garnering them positive press. During the raid of a gay bar, the bartender informs the unit that his

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supplier comes from Los Canarios. Rafael takes in “Lucía” (Lucía Guerreo), a young addict, for a night. The police chief, “Don Julián” (Carlos Olalla), commends the unit at their Christmas party. 1989: The unit enters Los Canarios, an apartment complex on the margins of the city center, where they find Amador. Still living together, the relationship between Rafael and Lucía deepens. Ángel receives a series of threats at home, pushing him over the edge. A reporter hints at the unethical tactics of the unit. 1990: As preparations for the Expo are finalized, Don Julián informs the unit that an investigation is inevitable. However, after seizing 1.7 million pesetas’ worth of drugs from a clandestine ambulance, the unit is decorated for their service. Lucía returns to drugs and refuses Rafael’s help. Ángel and Elena experience marital problems. La Caoba is severely beaten and hospitalized, and Ángel seeks information about the incident from Joaquín, who has become his trusted informant. Joaquín, working with Amador, leads the unit to Candelaria, where a trap has been set to humiliate the unit in front of the neighborhood’s residents. The men escape in their underwear but not before one is bitten by an addict. The unit comes under investigation, and Lucía dies from an overdose. Heartbroken, Rafael—whose brother also died from an overdose—puts out a votive candle with his fingers before telling Ángel he’s going back to Candelaria. They return together at night, guns drawn. Amador attacks Rafael, but Ángel shoots and kills their nemesis. The two men meet with Don Julián and present him with a bag full of drugs confiscated during the illicit raid. He asks them what they want. 1992: Expo ’92 opens. Unit 7 is absolved of any crimes. See also La isla mínima (Marshland); El niño (The Kid); No habrá paz para los malvados (No Rest for the Wicked) —Scott Boehm

LA GUERRA DE PAPÁ (DADDY’S WAR) (1977) Director: Antonio Mercero Screenplay: Horacio Varcárcel and Antonio Mercero, based on a novel by Miguel Delibes Specs: 91 minutes; color La guerra de papá is a 1977 film directed by Antonio Mercero that focused on the critique of violence and war through child education at home. It is a family comedy-drama that tells the story of Quico, a three-year-old boy who has been recently dethroned by his baby sister, Cristina, and feels so jealous that he pretends to have swallowed a nail in order to attract attention and regain his authoritarian position within the family. The quotidian anecdote is mixed with a bittersweet irony of sociopolitical context that provides a skillful criticism of the paradigmatic Spanish family in the 1960s after the Spanish Civil War. The film is an adaptation of the Spanish novel El príncipe destronado, written in 1973 by Miguel Delibes and translated into English as The Prince Dethroned for the Spanish editorial Iberia by Thomas Molloy in 1986. Delibes originally wrote the novel in 1963 but, due to editorial reasons, refrained from

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Vincente Parra and Lolo García. José Frade Producciones / Photofest © José Frade Producciones

releasing it. Ten years later, Delibes reread the novel and asked his editor, José Vergés, to publish it as the beginning of a new editorial project titled “The Four Seasons,” representing El príncipe destronado as the spring of life. The novel is a third-person narration—inspired by Delibes’s son, Adolfo—written in a temporary and spatial structure that presents a quotidian situation of a well-off family in Spain. The narration follows a three-year-old boy from December 3, 1963, at 10:00 in the morning until 9:00 that evening. To emphasize the temporary structure, the chapters are divided into hours, allowing the reader to make sense of the narrative’s time. The plot of the film revolves around “Quico” (Lolo García), who is the fifth son after his siblings “Pablo” (Walter Morf), “Merche” (Regina Navarro), “Marcos” (Agustín Navarro), and “Juan” (Eugenio Chacón), all of them dethroned princes in a family whose parents do not love each other anymore. Quico wakes up at 10:00 in the morning and demands attention from his mother, “Mercedes” (Teresa Gimpera)—an aging woman tired of raising children and instead defers responsibility to her maids, “Vítora” (Verónica Forqué) and “Domi” (Rosario García Ortega). Vítora is sweet and loves Quico deeply, but she is worried about her fiancé, “Femio” (Tito Valverde), being sent to Africa with the army. Conversely, Domi has a cunning and malicious attitude toward Quico and has her

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own son to worry about. In this sense, Domi is reminiscent of the characters in Spanish picaresque novels: a hypocrite who is submissive with the powerful but nasty with the powerless. When Quico’s father (Héctor Alterio) arrives home, he argues with his wife about the war. They represent the two Spains: the father being a despotic military officer who fought in the war for the Nationalists and now tries to force his eldest son to follow his steps and engage in his father’s war, whereas the mother was raised by a Republican father and wants their children to overcome the conflict and move beyond the war. She is the archetype of the new woman in Spain, a product of the feminist movement of the 1960s. Quico thus becomes an intermediary between his parents, though with no real understanding of the politics involved. Allegorical and symbolic of the political dimensions of Spain during the 1960s, the film resonated with the audiences of all political stripes, as well as the general public alike. Bibliography Delibes, Miguel. El príncipe destronado. Madrid: Ediciones Destino, 1983. Gómez Yebra, Antonio A. Cuatro mujeres para El príncipe destronado. Alicante: Biblioteca Virtual Miguel de Cervantes, 2012. http://www.cervantesvirtual.com/nd/ ark:/59851/bmcfb5p2 (September 26, 2015). Villanueva, Darío. Estructura y tiempo reducido en la novela. Barcelona: Anthropos, 1994.

—Sabrina Vaquerizo González

•  H • HABANA BLUES (HAVANA BLUES) (2005) Director: Benito Zambrano Screenplay: Peter Andermatt, Ernesto Chao, Rolando Díaz, Alejandro Hernández, and Benito Zambrano Specs: 115 minutes; color In Habana blues, Benito Zambrano offers a colorful portrait of the Cuban music scene at the turn of the 21st century. The remarkable soundtrack of the film received numerous recognitions, including the Best Score award at the Círculo de Escritores Cinematográficos (Cinema Writers Circle), Best Cinema Score at the Spanish Music Awards, and Best Original Score at the Goya Awards in 2006. Zambrano’s movie was also recognized at the Havana Film Festival (Caracol Award)and the Los Angeles Latino International Film Festival (Best Screenplay).

Alberto Yoel García Osorio and Roberto San Martín. Warner Sogefilms / Photofest © Warner Sogefilms

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Instead of just exploring the traditional well-known rhythms of Afro-Cuban music (son, mambo, rumba, ballad, cha cha) or the inspiration of the trova, Habana blues focuses primarily on independent music with contemporary influences (rock, jazz, blues) to introduce recent genres (funk, hip-hop, rap, metal). The movie renders a vibrant palette of eclectic tunes, melodies, and songs. Viewers are taken into a musical journey connecting classical Cuban sounds and current popular trends that achieves a fine balance between tradition and the newest musical expressions. “Tito” (Roberto San Martín) and “Ruy” (Alberto Yoel García) lead a marginal music project, dreaming about the possibility of gaining international recognition. Things are not easy for these enthusiastic musicians as, in addition to dealing with personal troubles in a country with a deprived economy, they find themselves at an ethical crossroads when attempting to find a balance between foreign commercial interests and artistic commitment. At the beginning, Zambrano’s narrative assertively presents a heterogeneous group of musicians with different backgrounds and interests that evolves to become a solid performing ensemble. The band grows along with the development of the storyline—thus, Habana blues unfolds a progressive musical experience for the characters and the audience as well. The protagonists help illustrate diverse life experiences in contemporary Havana. Tito lives with his grandmother, “Luz María” (Zenia Marabal), a living legend of Cuban music. Ruy, a charming and irresponsible womanizer, needs to look for a new place while still living with “Caridad” (Yailene Sierra), the mother of his two children. Both female characters and actors deserve a special note because they embody inspiring images about Cuban women. Luz María evokes a nostalgic reminiscence of Havana’s musical spirit of the 1950s. On the other hand, Caridad wants to rejoin her mother in Miami and struggles with her own divorce. Despite the difficult family problems she faces, Caridad conveys charisma and a unique strength. Their personal stories provide a dramatic addition to the main musical plot. Tito and Ruy seem to have fortune on their side when they are offered the chance to record an album with a Spanish producer. It is the opportunity they were waiting for to boost the group’s name recognition within the local circuit and in the international music market. Tito is eager to move out of Cuba, but Ruy seems more interested and committed to the musical project. Still, to sign the contract, the band will be required to betray certain principles, thus raising questions not only at a personal level regarding loyalty and friendship but also concerning their artistic vocation. In this sense, the film serves to denounce the manipulation and deception that many Cuban artists experience when trying to expand their careers abroad. In spite of the fact that the movie feels slightly like a Caribbean postcard with melodramatic effects (e.g., the stereotypical image of the colorful Havana frozen in the 1950s, happy Cubans constantly partying, oversexualized male Latino protagonists), the film is a vivid representation of a critical moment in the country’s recent history: a Cuba of the late Special Period, and the one that precedes the restoration of diplomatic relations with the United States. With-

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out falling into a political debate, the film neatly depicts sensitive topics such as shortages, emigration, exile, exploitative tourism, and family disintegration. Zambarno’s movie is a snapshot combining historical, political, and cultural issues in Cuba at the beginning of the new century. Bibliography Puebla Martínez, Belén, Zoila Díaz-Maroto Fernández-Checa, and Elena Carrillo Pascual. “Los personajes femeninos bajo la mirada del cineasta Benito Zambrano. Retrato de la mujer en Solas, Habana blues y La voz dormida.” Fotocinema. Revista científica de cine y fotografía 7 (2013): 137–67.

—Vania Barraza

HABITACIÓN EN ROMA (ROOM IN ROME) (2010) Director: Julio Medem Screenplay: Julio Medem and Katherine Fugate, based on a movie written by Julio Rojas Specs: 109 minutes; color Habitación en Roma is a 2010 film directed by Julio Medem. The film explores the relationship between two strangers as they spend the night together in a hotel room in Rome. Elena Anaya won the Best Movie Actress award at the Fotogramas de Plata 2011, while Natasha Yarovenko won Best New Actress at the 2011 Turia Awards. The movie is a remake of the Chilean film En la cama (2005), written by Julio Rojas and directed by Matías Bize, which also follows a one-night stand between two strangers. The plot revolves around the relationship between “Alba” (Elena Anaya) and “Natasha” (Natasha Yarovenko), two strangers who spend their last night in Rome together in Alba’s hotel room. At the beginning of the film, Alba invites Natasha, a woman she has just met at a bar, up to her room. They kiss, undress, and lie in bed together, but Natasha becomes nervous because she has never had a same-sex experience before, so they do not go any further. Alba falls asleep and Natasha gets dressed and leaves, but she leaves her phone behind accidentally and returns to retrieve it. Alba answers the door naked, and while they are talking in the doorway “Max” (Enrico Lo Verso) passes them with room service for the room next door. The women return to the room and have sex; afterward, they both admit that they have not told each other their real names. Alba asks Natasha where she lives and searches for it on an online map; she then shows Natasha the city where she lives but gets upset when she zooms in on her house. She reveals that she has two children, a boy and a girl. As they begin to have sex again Natasha asks Alba to use a vibrator on her, reminding her that she likes men more than women. Alba playfully calls down to Max to request one, but he thinks that they want a threesome and comes up to the room. They ask him to leave and he apologizes for the misunderstanding. Natasha reveals to Alba that her real name is “Sasha,” and she has an identical twin sister called “Dasha.” She tells Alba that after her mother died her father molested her sister, and this made her jealous; she also reveals that she

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Elena Anaya and Natasha Yarovenko. IFC Films / Photofest © IFC Films

is getting married soon, and that she is in Rome on a trip with her sister as an early wedding present. Alba shows Natasha a film on her camera of her girlfriend, “Edurne” (Najwa Nimri), and her girlfriend’s children. She becomes upset again and says that the boy died in an accident while Alba was alone with him in the house. She says she is in Rome for an Alternative Locomotion Energy Fair, presenting her invention, a bikelike vehicle called Aspasia, but she has been told that it will never be manufactured. Natasha and Alba watch the dawn break and agree that they have fallen in love with each other. Alba says that they must leave something behind to remind them of the night they have spent together; she takes the bed sheet and they hang it from the flagpole outside Alba’s room. They eat breakfast on the balcony, imagining what it would be like if they could build a life together. Alba then asks Natasha to take a bath with her, but Natasha refuses and becomes angry, causing Alba to faint and imagine that she has been shot by Cupid’s arrow. Natasha admits she feels the same way as Alba does and gets into the bath with her. At the end of the film, they both leave the hotel and exit in opposite directions, but Natasha calls to Alba to look at something and runs back across the screen. An image appears on-screen of their bed sheet flag, which has been captured by the Internet map. During the film, the interior, intimate space of the room is juxtaposed with the vastness of the world, which is accessed by the women through the power of technology. One of the film’s major themes is identity, and Alba and Natasha continually reinvent themselves and create new identities as they tell each other

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fabricated stories about their lives. The film is also concerned with sexuality and the gaze, but unusually it is driven by female rather than male desire, and the persistent nakedness of the women resists the constant sexualization of the female form that is often found in films. See also Los amantes del círculo polar (The Lovers of the Arctic Circle); La ardilla roja (The Red Squirrel); Lucía y el sexo (Sex and Lucia) —Laura Birkin

HABLE CON ELLA (TALK TO HER) (2002) Director: Pedro Almodóvar Screenplay: Pedro Almodóvar Specs: 112 minutes; color Hable con ella is the 14th feature film of renowned Spanish auteur Pedro Almodóvar. Directly following the critical acclaim of Todo sobre mi madre (1999), Almodóvar did not disappoint his international audience with Hable con ella. The film was heralded with a total 42 wins and 42 nominations, including an Oscar for Best Original Screenplay (Almodóvar), a rare achievement for a script in a language other than English. At those same Academy Awards, Almodóvar also received a nomination for Best Director. In Spain, highlights included a win for Best Original Score (Alberto Iglesias) at the Goyas, in addition to several nominations there, including Best Film, Best Director (Almodóvar), Best Actor (Javier Cámara), Best Original Screenplay (Almodóvar), Best Sound (Miguel Rejas,

Javier Cámara and Leonor Watling. Sony Pictures Classics / Photofest © Sony Pictures Classics

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José Antonio Bermúdez, Rosa Ortiz, and Diego Garrido), and Best Special Effects (David Martí, Montse Ribé, and Jorge Calvo). The film focuses on three intersecting relationships, two of which—“Lydia and Marco” and “Alicia and Benigno”—are marked by these eponymic intertitles within the film. The third, “Benigno and Marco,” remains untitled in the film. The last intertitle noted at the end of the film, “Marco and Alicia,” reflects a future potentiality for the pair that ultimately remains unexplored. The audience is first introduced to “Marco” (Darío Grandinetti) and “Benigno” (Javier Cámara) as they attend a Pina Bausch concert. They do not yet know each other, but their paths will soon cross. For Marco’s part, he is an international journalist who has been separated from his former lover, “Ángela” (Elena Anaya), and taken interest in a torera, “Lydia” (Rosario Flores), who, for her part, has just separated from her torero lover, “El Niño de Valencia” (Adolfo Fernández). The two begin a relationship that comes to a halt when Lydia is gored in the bull ring and rendered comatose. At the hospital, Marco formally meets Benigno, a male nurse who takes care of another comatose woman, “Alicia” (Leonor Watling). Over the course of the film, the audience learns that Benigno was extremely close with his nowdeceased mother, caring for her for 20 years. Upon her death, attempting to fill the void, Benigno became obsessed with Alicia, who danced at the studio across from his mother’s apartment. By chance, she ended up in the same hospital where Benigno works. Before the auto accident that puts her there, Benigno had previously attempted to get closer to Alicia by visiting her father, “Dr. Roncero” (Helio Pedregal), a psychologist. Since Dr. Roncero suspects that Benigno is gay, he contracts him, along with “Matilde” (Lola Dueñas) and “Rosa” (Mariola Fuentes), to work exclusively with his daughter. Benigno is not harmless, however, and, misjudging his relationship with her, he rapes Alicia one evening after being stirred by the self-referential silent film-within-film that he sees at the theater, The Shrinking Lover, starring “Amparo” (Paz Vega) and “Alfredo” (Fele Martínez). Alfredo drinks Amparo’s diet potion before it is ready, and he begins to shrink, more with each passing day. Eventually, he is so small that one night he is able to crawl into her gruta sagrada as she sleeps, pleasuring her immensely, and remaining there for the rest of time. The silent film acts as a stand-in for Benigno’s rape of Alicia, which does not appear on-screen. Alicia becomes impregnated by Benigno, who is eventually found out and sent to a detention center. Having learned that Lydia returned to El Niño de Valencia before she was gored, Marco had previously left Spain for a writing assignment in Jordan. Hearing that Lydia has passed away, he calls the hospital and asks to speak with Benigno. He finds out that Benigno has been put away for raping Alicia. He rushes home and visits Benigno. He then learns that Alicia has given birth to a baby boy who died, but the act has awoken her. He sees her at the dance studio, as Benigno has left his former apartment to his friend. Although Marco wants to tell Benigno, he is cautioned against it. Not knowing about Alicia’s recovery, Benigno attempts to be reunited with her by coma but ends up killing himself. Marco mourns the death of his friend but remains present in Benigno’s former life, remaining in his apartment and frequenting the same theater where the two were seen together for the first time. The film ends

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as Alicia notices Marco in the theater and they talk, the last eponymic intertitle appearing, “Marco and Alicia.” In such a sense, Hable con ella exhibits a circular structure, framed by the performances of celebrated German choreographer Pina Bausch. The film opens with her piece Café Müller, during which a woman in a white nightgown crashes into furniture that scatters the dance floor, as a man tries to clear a path for her, symbolic of the comatose women in Marco and Benigno’s lives and their attempts to care for them. The film then closes with Pina Bausch’s Mascura Fogo, in which neatly paired couples dance in unison across the stage, representative of the potentiality of the successful coupling of Marco and Alicia at the end of the film, which can only occur thanks to the lessons learned through Marco’s friendship with Benigno. The symbolism of the framed dances is ultimately revealed by “Katerina” (Geraldine Chaplin), who is Alicia’s dance instructor, when she describes her new ballet about the First World War, entitled “Trincheras,” in which the soldiers, after dying in the titular trenches, arise as ghosts that transform into ballerinas. As Katerina describes, “De la muerte emerge la vida; de lo masculino emerge lo femenino” (While life emerges from death, from the masculine emerges the feminine). In such a sense, a primary theme of the film is the problematic truncated communication between men and women and the transformation of gendered norms necessary to engender efficacious connections between people. In the film, the men talk over the women; they don’t know how to listen, so the closest relationship that they end up having is with one another, metaphorically pointing to the previously mentioned unstated intertitle of the film, “Marco and Benigno.” The two have learned to communicate by listening in the “feminine” mode through their relationship with one another. Benigno symbolically points to this gendered inversion, very à la Almodóvar, when he is questioned about his “orientation” by Dr. Roncero. The doctor asks him if he has a partner now, after Benigno states that he feels more oriented toward men. Although this refers in large part to his relationship with Alicia, it also refers, in many senses, to the positive homosocial bond of friendship that he has developed with Marco. Amid a society that promotes truncated communication, men and women alike must learn to overcome silence and “talk to” as well as listen to one another. See also Los abrazos rotos (Broken Embraces); Pedro Almodóvar (Appendix A); ¡Átame! (Tie Me Up! Tie Me Down!); Carne trémula (Live Flesh); Kika (Kika); Chus Lampreave (Appendix A); La ley del deseo (Law of Desire); Mujeres al borde de un ataque de nervios (Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown); ¿Qué he hecho yo para merecer esto? (What Have I Done to Deserve This?); Tacones lejanos (High Heels) Bibliography D’Lugo, Marvin, and Kathleen M. Vernon, eds. A Companion to Pedro Almodóvar. Malden, MA: Wiley-Blackwell, 2013. Eaton, A. W., ed. Talk to Her. New York: Routledge, 2009.

—Amanda Eaton McMenamin

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HÉCTOR (HECTOR) (2003) Director: Gracia Querejeta Screenplay: David Planell and Gracia Querejeta Specs: 107 minutes; color Héctor is a 2004 film directed and written by Gracia Querejeta. It tells the story of “Héctor” (Nilo Zimmerman), a 16-year-old teenager who lost his mother in a car accident and moved in with his aunt “Tere” (Adriana Ozores) and her family. After his mother’s death, Héctor’s father, “Martín” (Damián Alcázar)—a successful business man who lives in Mexico—tries to meet his son and establish a relationship with him. As a mature teenager who has faced his mother’s addiction to pills and alcohol and his father’s abandonment when he was a baby, Héctor must decide if he prefers to stay with Tere and his new family or go to Mexico and stay with his father and his Mexican family. The film starts when Tere receives an anonymous call saying that her sister “Sofía” (Elia Galera) has died in a car accident. Confused by the terrible news, Tere says that she only could think of one name: Héctor, her nephew. Three years have passed since the last time Héctor and Tere were together. At that time, Héctor was a 13-year-old boy who dreamed of knowing his father, not even knowing if he was alive and desperately wanting to meet him. Against her sister’s wishes, Tere told Héctor that his father was alive; consequently, the relationship between the two sisters diminished.

Unax Ugalde, Nilo Zimmerman, and Núria Gago. Sogepaq / Photofest © Sogepaq

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During these three years, Héctor has been alone with his addict mother and taken care of her; only “Tomás,” the priest (Pepo Oliva) in Tere’s neighborhood, knew what happened at Sofía’s home. When Héctor arrives in Madrid, he is received at the train station by Tere and Tomás. Tere’s husband, “Juan” (Joaquín Clement), and her daughter, “Fanny” (Nuria Gago), do not manage to be with her at this important moment. Juan, who has been working for 20 years in the same moving company, has received an offer from “Ángel” (José Luis García Pérez), his boss and his daughter’s boyfriend, to be his business partner. Fanny was unable to make the appointment because Ángel, her boyfriend and boss, insisted on giving her a big surprise; he built a chalet and he wants to live there with Fanny as soon as the construction is done. Before she passed away, Sofía asked Tomás—in confession—to contact Martín (Héctor’s father) if something happens to her. For more than six years, Martín had tried to contact his son, but Sofía always denied his requests. Once Martín arrives in Madrid from Mexico, he tries to contact Tomás, but he soon realizes that he must be patient if he’s to realize a relationship with him, ultimately depending on Tere to help him get in touch with his son again. Héctor is a mature young man who manages his life and the recent loss of his mother quite well, aside from some curious habits: he does not sleep during the night and cooks early in the morning to dine alone. One night, during the first week Héctor spends at Tere’s house, Tere wakes up in the middle of the night and finds Héctor cooking. The two talk a little bit about Sofía, but she notices that he is upset and incapable of expressing his feelings. At the end of the conversation, Héctor tells Tere that his father is in Spain and he wants to meet him. The film details the reunion of Héctor and Martín, filtered through time, love, and people lost in the milieu of contemporary family structures. At the end of the movie, Héctor says goodbye to Tere and his family and decides to go to Mexico with his father. However, at the airport, when he thinks of his mother, he realizes what he really wants to do: he says goodbye and lets his father go, both making promises to stay in touch, deciding to continue his life with Tere and the rest of the family and community that raised him. —María Adelaida Escobar Trujillo

HERMOSA JUVENTUD (BEAUTIFUL YOUTH) (2014) Director: Jaime Rosales Screenplay: Jaime Rosales and Enric Rufas Specs: 103 minutes; color Hermosa juventud is a 2014 drama directed by Jaime Rosales that portrays the hopeless life of two young Spaniards in the suburbs of Madrid. It was nominated for the Un Certain Regard section at the Cannes Film Festival in 2014, where it received an Ecumenical Jury Commendation. Ingrid García Johnson was nominated for Best New Actress at the 29th Premios Goya (Goya Awards). “Natalia” (Ingrid García Johnson) is a 22-year-old woman living with her mother, “Dolores” (Inma Nieto), her younger brother, “Pedro” (Juanma Calderón), and her little sister. She is unemployed, does not attend school, and spends

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most of her days at home watching television or with her boyfriend “Carlos” (Carlos Rodríguez). Carlos, 23 years old, takes care of his sick mother, “Rosa” (Patricia Mendy), in an old apartment. Due to the economic crisis he cannot find a stable job and tries to make a living accepting low-wage jobs that pay under the table. Since they cannot obtain a steady income, they decide to shoot a porn film. In the casting audition, they express the difficulties of maintaining a normal romantic relationship due to their lack of independence. At the beginning of the film, Natalia had discovered that she is pregnant, a fact that she initially hides from her boyfriend and family. When she informs them, her mother advises that, considering the family situation, having a baby is not a good choice. Carlos thinks that he is too young and not prepared emotionally and economically to become a parent. In spite of her mother’s pressure, Natalia decides to have the baby. One night, when they are coming back from drinking with their friends, Carlos gets into a fight and he gets a deep cut in his neck. A long sequence presenting social media conversations on Carlos’s cell phone forwards time until the baby is born. Natalia’s life is more complicated as she still does not have a job and has to provide for the baby. Carlos works on a construction site and plans to purchase a van with the monetary settlement that he expects to obtain from the man who attacked him. However, he does not get any compensation. He still wants to acquire the van, which creates tension with Natalia. She is so desperate that she proposes to emigrate to Germany, where she thinks they will be able to find stable jobs. Carlos, with the help of three friends, decides to intimidate the person who attacked him with the hopes that he will give him money. The plan goes awry and he does not get any money. Tensions grow at home. Motherhood is very hard on Natalia as she realizes that they cannot provide a future for the baby. She admonishes Carlos because she thinks that he does not really want to find a real job. In addition, Dolores’s financial hardships aggravate with the extra expenses created by the baby. She asks Natalia to get some money from her father and Carlos. Hopeless to find a decent life in Madrid, Natalia emigrates to Germany alone with the intention of coming back for her daughter when she achieves financial stability. A sequence composed of pictures, short videos, and Skype calls depicts Natalia’s new life in Germany. In a Skype conversation, she tells Carlos that she has not found a job because she does not speak German. She covers a friend at work when she is sick and attends language classes. The last sequence is another casting audition, this time in Germany, for a porn film. See also Las horas del día (The Hours of the Day) —Enrique Téllez-Espiga

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HISTORIAS DEL KRONEN (STORIES FROM THE KRONEN) (1995) Director: Montxo Armendáriz Screenplay: Montxo Armendáriz and José Ángel Mañas, based on the eponymous novel by José Ángel Mañas Specs: 95 minutes; color Historias del Kronen, the first novel written by José Ángel Mañas at the age of 23 and published in 1994, was remade as a movie the following year by director Montxo Armendáriz. The film was awarded the Premio Goya in 1996 for Best Adapted Screenplay. Mañas’s novel, which was a finalist for the literature prize Premio Nadal in 1994, is touted as one of the best examples of neorealist and Generation X literature in Spain. The protagonist of Historias del Kronen, “Carlos” (Juan Diego Botto), who was born in 1971 and forms part of late Generation X in Spain, experiences freedom of expression in a way that is destructive not only for himself but also for his group of friends and for his family. Historias del Kronen takes place in Madrid in July of 1992 and follows Carlos as he and his friends obsessively consume alcohol and drugs. These young people form part of a group of young adults in Spain who do not work or study; the common phrase in Spanish “ni trabajan, ni estudian” (“they do not work, nor do they study”) could refer to young people like Carlos who are apathetic to their static position in society. The film’s focus is on Carlos, and the plot is stuck on his spiraling decent into addiction and self-harm. As a 21-year-old university student, Carlos spends time with his friends at the Bar Kronen and other locations across the city, including the streets of Madrid. The scenes of the film vacillate between the group of friends dancing at the bar, hanging out in the public sphere, and getting into trouble (and causing it) with parents and others. The primacy of the present, which is palpable in the film, suppresses action and highlights taking drugs and alcohol as a way to not have to deal with the consequences of the passage of time or the stagnancy of place. As Carlos consumes more stimulants and downers, he slips further into an isolated and apathetic existence in which nothing seems to matter except for his next high. Friendships and family relationships are meaningless for Carlos. Rather, he places importance on self-satisfaction: masturbating, taking drugs and consuming alcohol, and sleeping all day and partying all night are shown in the film in continuous cycle. Tension builds as the trajectory of Carlos’s life spirals deeper into a false reality, one that is deeply narcissistic and closed off to the world. At a birthday party at “Pedro’s” (Aitor Merino) house, aroused by watching two people have sex, Carlos and his friend “Roberto” (Jordi Mollà) engage in sexual intimacy. With no grasp of ethical behavior, Carlos and his friends then force the diabetic Pedro to consume a large quantity of alcohol, which causes him to experience severe hypoglycemia. Pedro ends up dying as a result, and Carlos is too inebriated and too narcissistic to understand his role in his friend’s death. The film ends when Roberto and Carlos literally and figuratively wrestle over what to do with the video evidence of their involvement in Pedro’s death. The novel, however,

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continues as Carlos and his family vacation in Santander, where he continues to excessively consume drugs and alcohol. The film and the novel, although different, perfectly frame the apathetic interactions between Carlos and his friends. The film does an exceptionally good job at placing music as the loud and extreme background of the hyperbolic consumption of drugs and for Carlos’s hyperparticipation in sexual acts. The Basque punk band “Me Cago en Dios” (known as M.C.D.), with their fast-paced songs and explosive lyrics, wrote and recorded the soundtrack to the film. Dizzying scenes along with the edgy music to match create a film that highlights the protagonist’s descent into self-destruction. See also Las cartas de Alou (Letters from Alou); Tasio (Tasio) —Jennifer Brady

UN HOMBRE LLAMADO FLOR DE OTOÑO (A MAN CALLED AUTUMN FLOWER) (1978) Director: Pedro Olea Screenplay: Pedro Olea and Rafael Azcona, based on a play written by José María Rodríguez Méndez Specs: 98 minutes; color Un hombre llamado Flor de Otoño tells the story of the failed plot to assassinate the dictator Primo de Rivera by Lluís Serracant, a child of a Catalan bourgeois family who became a labor attorney for factory workers’ struggles in Barcelona, and an anarchist and drag artist in the barrio chino, the city’s red-light district. Inspired by a real character of the late 1920s, the film, directed by Pedro Olea in 1978, is an adaptation of the play Flor de Otoño (Autumn Flower), which, although written by José María Rodríguez Méndez in 1973, wasn’t staged until 1982, as the Francoist censorship did not approve the script. The film adaptation, released before the stage performance, was considered a fiasco by Rodríguez Méndez insofar as the film, according to the playwright, focuses on Serracant’s double life, a conventional rich kid by day and a homosexual transvestite by night, while setting aside the political and revolutionary dimensions of his personality and the cornerstone of the narrative: the pursuit of personal freedom in an environment hostile toward homosexuality and anarchism. The plot of the movie revolves around the life of “Serracant” (played by José Sacristán) over the last few days before the attempted murder. After being informed that one of his anarchist comrades has been captured, Serracant, as a defense lawyer, heads to the jail to talk to the prisoner, who reveals he had planned an attack against Primo de Rivera’s life and, since he has to stay in prison, will not be able to carry it out. Serracant decides to take over the plan along with his boyfriend, “Ricard” (Carlos Piñeiro), and his friend “Surroca” (Francisco Algora). That evening, when Serracant enters the dressing room of the Bataclán, the cabaret where he performs as Flor de Otoño, he finds out that a fellow performer he had argued with the night before has been murdered. The murdered man’s boyfriend, “Armengol” (Roberto Camardiel), considers Serracant responsible for his lover’s death and, once Flor de Otoño finishes his performance, he kidnaps

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Serracant, beats him up, and leaves him badly injured on his family’s doorstep. Serracant runs away before his mother, “Doña Nuria” (Carmen Carbonell), discovers his double identity and hides in the house he shares with Ricard and Surroca in the red-light district, where he starts preparing his retaliation against Armengol as well as Primo de Rivera’s assassination. Plotting to blow up the train on which the dictator will be traveling to Barcelona, Serracant, Ricard, and Surroca steal explosives from a mine in order to place them on a railroad bridge. Later on, the three of them return to the Bataclán. While Serracant gets ready for that evening’s performance, Armengol, now in love with Flor de Otoño, visits him in the dressing room to beg for his forgiveness. Taking into consideration the revenge he had planned, Serracant takes advantage of the situation and flirts with Armengol. Later on that night, he goes back to his family house and, afraid that his project to assassinate Primo de Rivera might fail, confesses to his mother his identity as Flor de Otoño. The next evening Serracant carries out his plan to avenge himself. Well aware of Armengol’s addiction to narcotics, Serracant entrusts Ricard and Surroca with the robbery of morphine and its concealment in Armengol’s house. Meanwhile, at the Bataclán, he toys with Armengol and promises him that, once that night’s performance is over, he will visit him at his place. However, while Armengol waits for Flor de Otoño, Serracant spends the night with a client of the Bataclán in a brothel where he is well known. Following the false leads left by Serracant and his friends, the police find the drugs at the house of Armengol. Realizing he has fallen into a trap, Armengol reveals Serracant’s political and criminal activities. In the face of that disclosure, Serracant is put under surveillance and ultimately his plot to assassinate Primo de Rivera fails. Serracant, Ricard, and Surroca are sentenced to death, and while waiting to be executed, Serracant is visited by Doña Nuria, who hands him a small mirror and lipstick, which he uses to make himself up before facing the firing squad. The ending of the picture perfectly fits with the rebellious vitality doomed to failure that pervades the entire film and that the original writer of the script, Rodríguez Méndez, had sought to portray in his play. Nevertheless, Olea’s movie, despite the fact that it doesn’t evade denouncing bourgeois double standards and social hypocrisy, avoids giving expression to the themes beyond a cross-dressing man who leads a double life and commits his life to ending a dictatorship. The film dilutes the pejorative allusions to the Spanish Catholic Church and the revolutionary, political, and the antipatriotic expressions that characterize Rodríguez Méndez’s play. This is not surprising since the play was written over the last years of an agonizing but still controlling dictatorship, while the film was made under the spirit of a political transition more prepared to overcome hitherto unbridgeable divisions than to defend attempts of revolutionary resistance. Regardless of the controversy surrounding the making of the film, Un hombre llamado Flor de Otoño was awarded the Best Male Actor prize at the 26th edition of the San Sebastián Film Festival in 1978, and the Best National Actor prize by the Premios San Jordi de Cinematografía de RNE in 1979. —Julia de León

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HONOR DE CAVALLERIA (HONOR OF THE KNIGHTS/ QUIXOTIC) (2006) Director: Albert Serra Screenplay: Albert Serra Specs: 107 minutes; color Throughout its history the cinema has produced many adaptations of Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra’s novel El ingenioso hidalgo Don Quijote de la Mancha. Most of these narrate a few well-known episodes and elide the rest of the lengthy novel, resulting in an inevitable failure to both live up to the original and to take advantage of the filmic medium’s capacity to contribute to keeping the story alive in the present. In Honor de cavalleria, Albert Serra takes a different approach, one made possible by the long takes and low costs of video technology. He forgoes the adventures to instead focus on the eventless downtime in between, and the result is a unique contribution to the story told in the source novel. Lacking the kind of distraction provided by attacks on windmills, the loitering Don Quixote and Sancho are susceptible to existential crises, and the resulting tension provides a tenuous narrative thread to a film impossible to judge by conventional standards and, frankly, far better experienced than read about. But the film requires a viewer who, instead of demanding beautiful actors, witty dialogue, production values, and narrative economy, is ready to open their eyes,

Lluís Carbó. Andergraun Films / Photofest © Andergraun Films

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ears, and mind to other ways of consuming the filmic image. For such a viewer, Honor de cavalleria might just be seductive and even a masterpiece. Two nonactors, neither conventionally attractive, occupy the frame without doing much that might thicken a plot. They speak not the Castilian of the source novel but their native Catalan. “Don Quixote” is played by Lluís Carbó, who looks exactly like one would imagine the errant knight. Fragile, deluded, and on the edge of mysticism, he is given to enthusiastically rapturous perception of the divine in nature. The robust “Sancho,” embodied by Lluís Serrat, is, by contrast, more a subject of the gravity that pulls him toward the grassy earth despite his occasional resistance. The observational style allows the literary Don Quixote and Sancho to give way to the physicality of Carbó and Serrat. As they loll about between grassy-forested hills, bathe in a river, then dry their bodies in the bright sun, and otherwise do very little of note, the way we watch them is transformed. We see how they recline on the ground, how they stand up, and how they are tired, how they need each other. They engage in a low-intensity conflict over faith that strains their affection for each other. Don Quixote is desperate to reassure both himself and Sancho of the continued relevance of God and chivalry but takes care to constantly reiterate his esteem for his rustic squire. Sancho, in his materialist lucidity, seems to stay with his master only out of inertia and reluctance to disappoint. The tenderness that holds these men in an inescapable mutual orbit makes for touching revelations for a receptive viewer. That Serra is an accomplished experimental filmmaker is evident throughout the film, but one structural set piece about halfway through is emblematic of its aesthetic: At dusk, as the pair settles in for an evening in an old graveyard among shrubs and crosses, Serra sets up a fixed-camera composition with the two men in the middle of the frame, but partially blocked from the spectator’s view by a metal crucifix in the foreground. Up and to the left, partly hidden behind the dark outline of a tree, the moon shines bright against the darkening visual field. As our sleepily grunting heroes do nothing at all to forward the narration, our attention is drawn toward the light and we proceed to watch the moon rise out from behind the tree into the night sky, its movement surprisingly perceptible. Serra has revealed to his viewer the moon’s movement in the sky, a feat no less notable for its apparent mundane qualities. As can be assumed by this point, Honor de cavalleria’s capacity to enchant depends on the acceptance of Serra’s renegotiation of the cinema’s implied contract with its viewer. Many will react by walking out or ejecting the disk, but those who bear with it might be rewarded with a fascinating experience that, by adding a visual and temporal dimension to the novel, produces a remarkable emotional power. Its experimental form—the use of duration and nonactors, minimized events, and little “energy”—generates a slow but powerful magic of emotional engagement that makes it a rare gem among films. See also El caballero Don Quijote (Don Quixote, Knight Errant); Don Quijote de Orson Welles (Orson Welles’ Don Quixote) —Matt Losada

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LA HORA DE LOS VALIENTES (A TIME FOR DEFIANCE) (1998) Director: Antonio Mercero Screenplay: Antonio Mercero and Horacio Varcárcel Specs: 117 minutes; color La hora de los valientes is a 1998 film directed by Antonio Mercero. It presents a group of Madrid residents during the Spanish Civil War at the moment when the Republican government decides to evacuate the art treasures from the Museo del Prado in order to protect them. The film was awarded the prize for Best Supporting Actress to Adriana Ozores at the Premios Goya 1998. The film begins in November of 1936. “Manuel” (Gabino Diego), a young and dedicated museum watchman, discovers a self-portrait by Francisco de Goya left behind in the midst of chaos, in spite of the careful packing of artworks to be transported to Valencia along with the Republican government. He decides to keep the painting with him for safekeeping and runs away with it when the sirens go off alerting the approach of aerial bombers. Manuel goes down to the subway, like many, to take refuge. There, he meets “Carmen” (Leonor Watling), who in the film’s opening scene loses her family and home in a bomb explosion. She is sitting by him, in shock and with her hands bleeding from trying to remove rubble. Manuel takes Carmen with him to the apartment where he lives with his aunt “Flora” (Adriana Ozores), her little son “Pepito” (Javier Bodalo), a maid “Filomena” (Aten Soria), and a boarder called “Lucas” (Héctor Colomé), who is soon exposed as a man without scruples and trades on the black market. Carmen’s poor condition softens Flora’s resistance to take her in at Manuel’s insistence. On their way to hand the Goya portrait over to “Professor Miralles” (Juan José Otegui), an art specialist employed at the museum, Manuel and his grandfather, the anarchist “Melquiades” (Luis Cuenca), witness the indiscriminate burning of religious art that leads to the arrest of the professor and a priest. From then on, Manuel is responsible for the safekeeping of the painting, which becomes the object of greed by an antique dealer, “Heliodoro” (José María Pou), and Lucas. In a rather comic scene, Manuel’s room is searched by the police, alerted by a tip that potentially valuable goods were being held in Flora’s house. The Goya painting is hidden by being hung on the wall as the portrait of an old relative; the soldiers fail to recognize the image. In an opposite tone, Manuel’s commitment to protecting the artwork takes him to confront Heliodoro, who gets ahold of the artwork through Lucas, killing the greedy dealer during the fight. Manuel becomes a victim of a bombing in a warehouse but is rescued from the debris. While he convalesces, he and Carmen declare their love for each other. Before he joins the front, Manuel and Carmen get married. It is done in a secular ceremony led by the anarchist grandfather. During the wedding celebration, at an outdoor eatery on the outskirts of Madrid, the party is disrupted by bombers passing overhead on their way to the city center, but the newlyweds decide to keep dancing as act of defiance, which becomes the film’s most emblematic scene. While Manuel serves at the front, the women fend for themselves in the face of food scarcity. Soon after Carmen gives birth to a son, Pepito is killed by an unexploded bomb while playing with other children among the rubble.

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Manuel, who receives the good news of his newborn son in the trenches, returns to Madrid in time for Pepito’s burial and Flora’s desperate grief. In April of 1939, the Nationalist forces enter Madrid, and they proceed to carry out a fierce repression of suspected leftists. Manuel is shot dead by a squadron led by Lucas while trying to return the painting. The scene is presented as an emphasis of Goya’s famous painting Fusilamientos del 3 de mayo. The closing scene takes place years later, when Carmen and her teenage son visit the room at the museum where the portrait of Goya that Manuel saved hangs. They salute the painting after hearing a guide in the background tell of the artwork’s fate during the war and how it was saved from the anarchists who tried to destroy it. The double ending emphasizes the symbolic role played by Goya in the film beyond being a plot devise. The title La hora de los valientes refers to one of the radio programs dedicated to rallying and boosting citizens’ morale, and points out the important role the media played as a source of information and propaganda during the war. It is one of many other aspects that the film seeks to document about life during the period, along with the constant air raids, the long lines to get the poor supply of food available, the black market, the presence of refugees from other parts of the country, the hazards of scattered explosives, the throwing of bread and pamphlets to break the resistant spirit of the hungry population, and so forth. All of it constitutes a portrait of everyday life a backdrop for a drama, with a mixture of tragic and comedic elements in the Spanish realist tradition, also applied to films dealing with Spanish Civil War. Survival skills and solidarity substitute for epic narrative as picaresque elements, which lends a slightly ironic turn to the title, making the common citizens in the rear guard as the real heroes of history and their resilience and their humanity as true victory. See also ¡Ay, Carmela! (Ay, Carmela!); Las bicicletas son para el verano (Bicycles Are for the Summer) Bibliography Barrenechea Marañon, Igor. “La hora de los valientes de Antonio Mercero como reflexión histórica de la guerra civil.” Sancho el Sabio 21 (2004): 91–123. Barrientos, Mónica. “Claroscuros de guerra junto a un veterano.” Quadernos de cine 3 (2008): 15–21.

—Elena Cueto Asín

LAS HORAS DEL DÍA (THE HOURS OF THE DAY) (2003) Director: Jaime Rosales Screenplay: Jaime Rosales and Enric Rufas Specs: 98 minutes; color The first film directed by Jaime Rosales, Las horas del día tells the story of Abel, a man in his thirties who has a dull and unambitious life. He works in a declining clothes shop belonging to his mother and spends his leisure time in the company of his fiancée and his friend Marcos, whom Abel treats with a mixture of

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indifference and peevishness. However, Abel conceals a dangerous killer instinct that drives him to murder. Las horas del día won different awards, particularly the FIPRESCI (International Federation of Film Critics) award at the Cannes Film Festival (2003). The film starts with some full shots of El Prat de Llobregat, a working-class city close to Barcelona. Then the camera shows us a nondescript building while we hear the noise of a shaver, and the next shot focuses on “Abel” (Alex Brendemühl) shaving himself and brushing his teeth in front of the mirror. From this moment on, Las horas del día—lacking the traditional structure consisting of beginning, middle, and end—displays several scenes or tranches de vie that portray the day-to-day life of Abel: a chat with his mother (María Antonia Martínez) about trivial things while they have breakfast, an argument with his employee, and a conversation with a young woman called “Trini” (Pape Monsoriu) regarding the clothes the mannequins of the shop have to wear. Moreover, Abel seems to be an apathetic man without any goals or dreams who enjoys discouraging people and being a spoilsport. For instance, he tries to humiliate Trini because of her single condition even though she is not concerned about getting married. Some good examples of the mean behavior of Abel are his conversations with his fiancée, “Tere” (Àgata Roca). Abel appears to be determined to undermine all the hopes and initiatives of Tere. She struggles to find a job as an editor in an editorial house, but Abel despises her attempt because from his point of view the company offers her a lousy salary. In a similar way, he avoids making plans with Tere and is reluctant to live with her despite their long-standing relationship. Finally, she breaks up with him. However, this breakup doesn’t seem to cause any sadness in Abel. In fact, he starts a new relationship with “María” (Anna Sahun), a nurse he met in a bar when he was still engaged to Tere. The friendship between Abel and “Marcos” (Vicente Romero) reveals more clearly the real nature of the main character. Marcos earns his living working in a newspaper kiosk, but he regards himself as an enterprising man and has some ideas in order to thrive. His fiancée, “Carmen” (Irene Belza), is pregnant and Marcos wants to give their child a good future. However, Abel thinks that Marcos has to resign himself to his humble and simple situation. Furthermore, he seeks to ruin the life of Marcos. On the day of the marriage between his friend and Carmen, during the wedding feast, Abel announces to him that he is going to tell “a trifle,” and then insinuates that Carmen tried to seduce him one year earlier. Marcos, puzzled, calls Abel “a piece of shit” who needs to bother him to be happy. Indeed, neither Marcos nor anyone knows Abel in depth, because the main character has a secret life as a serial killer. The darkest side of Abel is disclosed in two shivering sequences that are shot with the same impassivity and austerity of the scenes where the main character is washing dishes, reading bills, chopping vegetables, or taking care of his shop. First, Abel kills a woman taxi driver (Isabel Rocatti). He asks the woman to drive until reaching a dead end in the middle of a field with plenty of scrubs, and, while she is distracted, Abel strangles her. Then he pounces on the woman and beats her brutally. Abel gets out of the car, but the taxi driver groans, so he takes a stone, comes back to the car, and hits the

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woman again. Lastly, he tosses the stone far away and hides the car among the scrub. The scene takes place in broad daylight, but the murder is shown through a fixed shot, thus the woman is off-camera while Abel kills her. In this way, the audience can only see what is happening through the windshield of the taxi. The second murder committed by Abel is filmed following the same point of view. In this case, the victim is an old man (Armando Aguirre) and the crime scene a lonely train station of Barcelona (La Bonanova). The old man, who is coughing and seems tired, reaches the platform with his daughter under the gaze of Abel. They take a seat and speak briefly. The woman is concerned because her father appears to be depressed. Shortly after, the old man walks to the washroom followed by Abel. While the man is drying his hands, Abel tries to strangle him. Both fall to the ground and fight until the old man dies, in which moment Abel drags the corpse to a bathroom. He shuts the door behind himself, so that we can only see one of the victim’s shoes and hear the sound of the toilet. A few minutes later, Abel leaves the bathroom quietly. It is not clear whether the main character looks for his victims carefully and stalks them until he has the chance to attack, or he simply takes advantage of any given opportunity. In any case, Abel chooses men and women who look weaker than himself. As in all other scenes of Las horas del día, the design of both sequences is remarkably realistic. The film depicts the act of killing with unbearable rawness, while showing this act as a trivial and common gesture. In short, Las horas del día re-creates the daily life of a serial killer from an unusual perspective: according to director Jaime Rosales, the movie hides the drama and shows the trivial details that this kind of film doesn’t usually show, and avoids explaining the reasons why Abel is a killer. Thus, at the end of the film the camera shows Abel in his shop and, in a way very similar to that of the beginning, moves away in order to offer another set of full shots of El Prat de Llobregat, as if nothing had happened. See also Caníbal (Cannibal); Hermosa juventud (Beautiful Youth) —Rebeca Martín

•  I1 • LO IMPOSIBLE (THE IMPOSSIBLE) (2012) Director: Juan Antonio García Bayona Screenplay: Sergio Gutiérrez Sánchez Specs: 113 minutes; color Lo imposible is a 2012 film directed by Juan Antonio García Bayona. The film is based on the true story of a Spanish family that manages to survive a tsunami. Among many other awards, the film received five Goya Awards, for Best Director, Best Editing, Best Production Supervision, Best Sound, and Best Special Effects. Naomi Watts was also nominated for the Best Actress Academy Award. The film has been a box-office success. The plot of the film revolves around the Bennett family and their Christmas holiday trip to Thailand. They enjoy the nice weather and their nice hotel together. Yet, suddenly, everything changes with a tsunami. The realistic impression created by the spectacular special effects makes the audience aware of the helplessness, despair, and panic the protagonists are experiencing at that moment. The flood scene is undoubtedly the most spectacular of the film thanks to impressive special effects. It is an eight-minute-long scene in which the realistic impression was achieved by a master use of digital techniques. Special effects house El Ranchito was responsible for the production of these visual effects. This Spanish company has also produced other recent Spanish films that are well known for their special effects, such as Daniel Monzón’s Celda 211 (2009) and El niño (2014). The tsunami separates all family members. Yet the mother, “Maria” (Naomi Watts), and the oldest son, “Lucas” (Tom Holland), manage to find each other soon. From then on, their main concern is finding the rest of the family. Oddly enough, father “Henry” (Ewan McGregor), and the two little sons are also safe and sound. They also try to find Maria and the oldest son, and therefore Henry decides to do it on his own while the two little kids remain with a group of people. Maria is seriously injured and must be taken to a hospital for an operation. Meanwhile, Lucas decides to help others at the hospital. At one moment, Lucas believes his mother has died because he finds her bed empty—yet she was only taken to a different room for surgery. Finally, the whole family manages to reunite and they fly back home, leaving Thailand in chaos behind. Lo imposible is a film that narrates a true story that seems impossible. Despite the spectacular special effects and the happy ending for the Western family, the film reveals a less-sympathetic side since the critical audience observes how some groups of people are dehumanized and ignored throughout the story, such as the victims of the tsunami and the local population of Thailand. 204

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See also Juan Antonio Bayona (Appendix A); Celda 211 (Cell 211); El niño (The Kid); El orfanato (The Orphanage) —Guillermo Sanz Gallego

INCONSCIENTES (UNCONSCIOUS) (2004) Director: Joaquín Oristrell Screenplay: Dominic Harari, Joaquín Oristrell, and Teresa Pelegri Specs: 100 minutes; color Inconscientes is a 2004 comedic mystery period film directed by Joaquín Oristrell. Set shortly after Freudianism had taken the world by storm, the film focuses on a psychiatrist who assists his very pregnant sister-in-law in finding her missing husband, who is also a psychiatrist. Inconscientes was nominated for five Goya Awards and played at several film festivals, including Sundance in 2005, where it competed for the World Cinema—Dramatic prize. Director Oristrell, typically a writer affiliated with director Manuel Gómez Pereira on such projects as Boca a boca and ¿Por qué lo llaman amor cuando quieren decir sexo?, was inspired, in part, by Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes narratives for the investigation plot of the film. Based on an original screenplay, Inconscientes is set in 1913 Barcelona, where Sigmund Freud’s theories of sex and psychoanalysis have swept the city into a frenzy, no more so than at an institute run by “Dr. Mira” (Juanjo Puigcorbé), a respected psychologist with two daughters married to psychiatrists who work at his hospital. One daughter, the nine-month-pregnant “Alma” (Leonor Watling), is married to “Dr. León Pardo” (Alex Brendemühl), a man who has turned his entire mentality around after reading Freud. At the start of the film, León has gone missing after meeting an unknown person whom Alma only saw fleetingly. After her husband’s abrupt exit, Alma goes to her brother-in-law, “Salvador” (Luis Tosar), another psychiatrist and amateur boxer who is also León’s best friend. Salvador, who does not believe in Freudianism, is very practical and believes León’s behavior is easily explainable. Salvador begrudgingly returns to Alma’s home to investigate León’s office for any sign of clues to his sudden disappearance. While there, Alma’s sister and Salvador’s wife, “Olivia” (Núria Prims), arrives to talk with her sister. Olivia is let into the house by Alma’s maid, “Señora Mingarro” (Mercedes Sampietro), an older drunkard with a disrespectful attitude toward everyone. Salvador asks Alma not to tell his wife he is present because that may lead Olivia to believe he and Alma are having an affair. Olivia tells her sister about problems she and Salvador have in the bedroom. Olivia does not feel sexual toward her husband and Salvador is too prudish and not passionate. Alma suggests Olivia perform oral sex on her husband to arouse him. That evening, Alma, Olivia, and Salvador join their father at the institute for a party and several important announcements. The first is that Dr. Freud will be visiting the institute in a few days, news that excites everyone except Salvador. The other pieces of information are more personal. Dr. Mira reveals he has a brain tumor that will kill him in six months and that he has decided León

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should inherit the institute. This angers Olivia and Salvador, who were promised he would succeed his father-in-law. That night, Olivia tries to perform oral sex on Salvador, but it ends badly and an upset Olivia leaves the bedroom. The following morning, Alma arrives at Salvador’s gym and tells him she believes León died in a car fire the previous evening. They go to the morgue and Alma is allowed to see a charred body pulled from the wreckage. The doctor states that it is the body of a woman and the only item recovered from the fire was a locket. Inside is the picture of a woman and the king. Alma pulls out of her bag a gun, which she casually tosses aside, and a copy of León’s thesis on four hysterical women, one of whom, “Turtledove” (Ana Rayo), claims to be sleeping with a high-ranking official of the royal family. As they leave, a woman, whom Alma identifies as Turtledove, runs out, having stolen the locket from the morgue. Salvador and Alma follow her to an old farm in the countryside. Salvador tells Alma to wait in the car as he investigates. A group of men allows Salvador access and he is ushered into a closed off area where Turtledove is applying makeup. She tells him to undress and clean his private areas for their scene. Alma begins to snoop around as well and sees through a window that these men make pornographic movies at the barn. She steals a film roll and Salvador escapes with the locket. When they return to the city, Alma is convinced León is dead and that, before he died, he participated in one of the films made at the farm. Arriving home, Señora Mingarro tells Alma that she just missed León, but there is a message for Alma to destroy his thesis. Instead of burning the document, Alma decides to use her husband’s thesis to piece together the reason for his disappearance. She also convinces Salvador to perform hypnosis on her to see if any repressed memories may emerge. As he attempts to put Alma to sleep, he inadvertently hypnotizes himself and admits he secretly loves Alma. He then leaves, still under hypnosis, and meets his wife and father-in-law for lunch. While dining, he says several unpleasant though true statements about his relatives and eventually exposes himself. A waiter approaches and claps loudly, breaking the hypnosis and Salvador is horrified at his appearance. Dr. Mira fires Salvador, and he and his daughter storm out of the restaurant. Later that day, Salvador and Alma begin to investigate the second woman, “Pastora” (Cristina Solano), a mental patient at an asylum. Alma visits Pastora and discovers that the woman was institutionalized because her husband grew tired of her and wanted to sleep with other women. León helped make the case that the woman was unbalanced, which disturbs and saddens Alma. She leaves Pastora a bottle of perfume as a gift, which the patient then uses to blind a nun in order to escape. As Alma returns home with Salvador, she goes into labor and has the baby. That evening, Señora Mingarro attempts to burn León’s thesis, but Salvador is able to save it before it is completely destroyed. Alma and Salvador begin to look into the third woman, Mrs. Ducati, but as they read through the case history, Salvador realizes Mrs. Ducati is actually Olivia. According to the file, “Mrs. Ducati” drugs her husband every Tuesday evening and then ventures out into the city. That evening, which happens to be Tuesday, Salvador pretends to be drugged and follows Olivia in Alma’s car to a large manor house on the other side of the city. When Alma and Salvador enter,

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they discover all the men wearing women’s clothing and vice versa. They go to a room and switch outfits, much to Salvador’s distaste, and join the party. Several men approach Salvador and eventually he dances with one of them and Alma dances with a woman. They both then see Olivia, now in a tuxedo and dancing with another woman in the same attire. Salvador cannot control his anger and causes a scene. Alma quickly pulls them outside on the terrace and Olivia admits she is a lesbian and that she plans to run off with a woman. Salvador, though certainly stunned, begins to see a chance to finally have a relationship with Alma. A few days later, Salvador conducts his own research into the identity of Noel and uncovers a list from an orphanage that reveals the name “L. Mingarro” and connects it to Alma’s maid. Meanwhile, Alma accidentally notices that NOEL is LEON spelled in reverse. As she goes to tell Salvador, Dr. Mira arrives unexpectedly and Alma realizes he is the person she saw the day León disappeared. She hides from her father and Salvador comes upon her and begins to discuss what he discovered. In the apartment, Dr. Mira sees Señora Mingarro and realizes that she is the woman he lost his virginity to many years earlier. A flashback shows the ensuing scandal of their affair because Señora Mingarro became pregnant with a son and was fired from Dr. Mira’s household. The two discuss this, with Dr. Mira trying to rekindle their once-strong passion, and Salvador and Alma listen from the front door. They discover that not only is León Dr. Mira and Señora Mingarro’s son, but also Alma and her husband are siblings. Salvador decides to follow Señora Mingarro when she leaves the apartment and Alma follows her father. The latter arrives at the institute awaiting the arrival of Dr. Freud. Señora Mingarro goes to a brothel to find León. She tries to tell him all that she discovered during the day, but León sees Salvador. Initially, León is jovial with his friend and offers an embrace, but then hits him, knocking Salvador unconscious. Salvador awakens tied to the bedframe of León’s brothel room. As León dresses for the evening, he explains to Salvador his disappearance and how each of the other three cases in his thesis made it clear to him that he was bisexual. León also had the realization that Freud has ruined the world with his theories and that he plans to assassinate the famed psychoanalyst. León then tells Salvador that he has secretly been in love with him for years and kisses the bound man before pocketing a gun and leaving. Salvador tries to break the bed in an effort to escape and stop León. Freud has arrived at the institute and begins to deliver a speech when León appears, but everyone is distracted when Salvador barrels down the stairs still tied to half of the bedframe. León pulls the gun and threatens to shoot Freud, and a bodyguard brandishes his gun. Dr. Mira approaches, bumping into the bodyguard, who accidentally shoots a chandelier above León’s head. As his father-in-law comes nearer, León, aware the chandelier is about to fall, grabs Dr. Mira and both die as the large lighting fixture crushes them. Several weeks later, Alma is moving. A letter arrives and a very drunk Señora Mingarro accepts it and slides it under her employer’s bedroom door where Alma and Salvador are having sex. Salvador is now the head of the institute and Alma is beginning to perform her lifelong passion of becoming a suffrage work and feminist theorist.

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See also Boca a boca (Mouth to Mouth); ¿Por qué lo llaman amor cuando quieren decir sexo? (Why Do They Call It Love When They Mean Sex?) Bibliography Sabbadini, Andrea. “The (Mis)Representation of Psychoanalysis in Film.” In Eavesdropping: The Psychotherapist in Film and Television, edited by Lucy Huskinson and Terrie Waddell, 15–27. New York: Routledge, 2015. Sabbadini, Andrea. Moving Images: Psychoanalytic Reflections on Film. New York: Routledge, 2014.

—Jonathan Clark

INTACTO (INTACT) (2001) Director: Juan Carlos Fresnadillo Screenplay: Juan Carlos Fresnadillo and Andrés M. Koppel Specs: 108 minutes; color Intacto is a 2001 supernatural suspense film directed by Juan Carlos Fresnadillo. It tells the story of an underground world where one’s luck can be used as currency as well as stolen by those who possess a particular gift. Earning a significant amount of critical acclaim, Fresnadillo’s debut film was also nominated for eight Goya Awards and won for Best New Actor and Best New Director in 2002. Based on an original screenplay, Intacto begins in a casino where an older man is winning game after game on the roulette table. A mysterious man watching via security camera calls “Federico” (Eusebio Poncela) to come and remove the man’s luck. Federico goes to the roulette table, touches the man’s hand, and leaves. The man begins to lose. Federico then goes to meet “Samuel” (Max von Sydow), the owner of the casino who possess a “gift” similar to Federico’s ability to absorb the luck of others. Federico tells Samuel he would like to leave the business and Samuel accepts this, but not before absorbing all the powers Federico possesses. Leaving with nothing, Federico is then attacked by some of Samuel’s men, who warn him to never be seen again. Several years later, “Tomás” (Leonardo Sbaraglia) is the lone survivor of a plane crash that left all of the nearly three hundred other crew and passengers dead. He is taken to the hospital and the doctors uncover a large sum of cash hidden on Tomás. This leads to a police investigation that discovers Tomás is a thief, and a guard is placed on duty at his hospital room. During the past few years, Federico has been scouting lucky people in an attempt to get back into a game Samuel created. The people he tracks down are usually those who survived tragic accidents that otherwise would have killed unlucky people. Federico hears about Tomás and is immediately intrigued. He contacts “Claudia” (Marta Gil), an insurance adjuster usually assigned to deliver compensation checks to those who survive terrible accidents. Claudia agrees to allow Federico to pretend that he works for the insurance company in order for him to gain access to Tomás. Once by Tomás’s bedside, Federico tells the survivor that he can not only help him evade the police but also earn millions of dollars in an underground gambling circuit. Federico helps Tomás escape but immediately warns the sur-

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vivor never to touch him, fearing Tomás will loss his luck. The next morning, a dedicated detective, “Sara” (Mónica López), quickly catches the thief’s scent and begins to put the pieces together in order to track down Tomás. Sara is also a survivor of a terrible accident that left her a widow and childless. Federico takes Tomás to a seedy casino where, in a private back room, three players wait for a game to begin. Each player has their head painted with molasses, only being told that “he loves molasses.” They are then blindfolded and a buzzing shoebox is placed on the table. Once the lights are shut off, the lid is removed and a large, glowing insect flies out and begins to circle the players. Federico waits outside until he hears someone say the game is over and he sees the bug landed on Tomás’s head. Their winnings are 25 million pesetas and the keys to a large country estate. They drive to the estate, originally owned by famed bullfighter “Alejandro” (Antonio Dechent), and spend the night. Tomás decides to call his girlfriend, “Ana” (Paz Gómez) from a pay phone because he knows the police are looking for him. Ana does not answer but hears the message Tomás leaves. A police officer is also with Ana and tracking the call. That night, the police arrive at the estate and Federico and Tomás barely escape. The following morning, Sara arrives at the estate and speaks with Alejandro about why Tomás may have been there. Alejandro tells Sara he does not know and leaves, but the detective suspects the bullfighter knows more than he is willing to admit and follows him. Once in handcuffs, Alejandro tells Sara that he will help her find Tomás if he is set free. Alejandro takes Sara to a club where the luck of other people is used as currency. This is done by taking a photograph of the individual, which seems to rid them of their luck, and the pictures are used like cash. He tells the detective that Tomás will likely arrive in a few weeks to participate in the game; however, Tomás and Federico actually arrive late that evening, after the other players are blindfolded. Sensing things are not right, Sara removes her blindfold and attempts to arrest Tomás but is knocked unconscious by the host of the game. After Tomás and Federico escape, Alejandro abandons Sara, believing he has held up his end of the bargain. Sara returns home and dreams of her past tragic event where she was in a head-on car accident that killed her husband and daughter. Tomás and Federico decide to perform one final game before taking on Samuel. Betting all the people’s luck they have won over the weeks, Federico hands over every photo he has, but he also bets a picture of Ana, unbeknownst to Tomás. The game involves blindfolded players having their hands bound and racing through a thick wood. The one individual who does not trip or strike a tree is deemed the winner. The players dwindle down to Alejandro and Tomás and finally Tomás runs into a tree, making the bullfighter the winner. Federico abandons Tomás, who quickly discovers that Ana was won in the game. Alejandro visits Samuel’s desert facility and plays a game that, if he wins, will make him the luckiest man in the world. A six-chamber gun is loaded with five bullets and each man plays Russian roulette by pointing the gun at the other and pulling the trigger. Alejandro pulls the trigger first and no bullet is fired, but during Samuel’s turn Alejandro is shot dead. All the people whom Alejandro possessed, including Ana, becomes Samuel’s.

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After having her luck passed on to Samuel, Ana is accidentally shot in the spine, almost killing her. Sara visits Ana and discovers the name of the insurance company that handled Tomás’s case. She tracks down Claudia and discovers Samuel’s location and decides to investigate, thinking Tomás will be there. Meanwhile, Tomás finds Federico and demands to know how he can win Ana back. Federico takes Tomás to Samuel in order to try and win back his girlfriend’s luck. Samuel is surprised by Tomás because no one has ever played the game for love. He deviates from his usual anonymity and tells Tomás his life story about being the only survivor of a Nazi concentration camp where doctors experimented and killed every other child. This, evidently, is where Samuel gained his initial power of luck and discovered his ability to absorb that of others. They prepare to play the game as Sara arrives with several police officers, who begin to search the large facility. Tomás pulls the trigger first, but the chamber is empty. As Samuel takes the gun and points it at Tomás, Sara enters and tells Samuel to drop the gun. Samuel fires, but it was loaded on the empty chamber. There is a brief moment where Samuel realizes Tomás would likely have won the game. One of Samuel’s associates then turns off the lights and there are multiple gunshots. Federico enters, turns the lights on, and discovers all are dead except Tomás. Tomás leaves after Federico gives him the picture of Ana. Federico sits in a chair and smokes a cigarette as the sound of the policemen approaching becomes nearer. Tomás escapes into the desert and burns the picture of Ana, therefore ensuring her luck will not be gambled with again. He then stands and runs into the wilderness, perhaps thinking he is lucky enough to survive the elements. Bibliography Shaw, Deborah. “Anti-Semitism and Misrepresentations of Survival Guilt in Juan Carlos Fresnadillo’s Intacto.” Bulletin of Spanish Studies 82, no. 5 (2005): 671–83.

—Jonathan Clark

LA ISLA MÍNIMA (MARSHLAND) (2014) Director: Alberto Rodríguez Screenplay: Alberto Rodríguez and Rafael Cobos Specs: 105 minutes; color La isla mínima is a gripping neo-noir thriller with political undertones set in a rural town in the south of Spain during the transition to democracy. The effects of the Franco dictatorship still muddy the waters, while his influence still reverberates with many people in the town. The film received very positive reviews both in Spain and abroad. It won 10 Goya Awards, including Best Film, Best Director, Best Original Screenplay, and Best Actor (Javier Gutiérrez). Two former city detectives, “Juan” (Javier Gutiérrez) and “Pedro” (Raúl Arévalo), of rather different political persuasions, are sent to a forgotten town on the Guadalquivir marshes to investigate a seemingly benign case of the recent disappearance of two problematic teenage sisters. It soon becomes clear that

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Raúl Arévalo, Javier Gutiérrez, and Salva Reina. Strand Releasing / Photofest © Strand Releasing

their case is only the tip of a truly morbid iceberg that they slowly but inexorably start uncovering. As the ugly truth reveals itself, they are forced to cooperate and battle local forces as well as geography, which will put their own physical and mental limits and professional dedication under severe test. The film is skillfully crafted, with every detail working inconspicuously in service of the story. The physical terrain, like its hardened inhabitants, is unfriendly, and it appears perfect for committing and hiding hideous crimes. The disappearance of the girls happens closely before the harvest on which the welfare of the locals crucially depends, which adds urgency to the investigation. Equally important as the place of action is its timing; it is 1980, and after decades of dictatorship Spain is in the middle of a fragile democratic transition (Lieutenant Colonel Antonio Tejero’s attempted coup will take place just a few months after the action depicted here). The younger and somewhat less-experienced detective, Pedro, is slightly overenthusiastic about the current democratic changes; indeed, his newspaper article criticizing a military general’s inflammatory remarks is the very reason why he is not in Madrid but in the god-forsaken place where we find him. Although the spectator tends to empathize with him, he, like his partner, is a morally ambiguous character. He seems insensitive to the needs of the local community and in the end will prove unable to confront truth. Juan, in contrast, is a hardened pro, a boozing womanizer who opts for physical violence as a way of getting results. His reserve originates from a dark secret in his past. In fact, we learn by the end that Juan was a member of Franco’s Brigada

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Político-Social (the secret police used by the dictator to persecute and repress all political dissent). When a reporter passes Pedro information about Juan being responsible for the death of a protester in 1971 and the torture of more than a hundred individuals during the previous regime, he destroys the evidence—a nod to the Pacto de Olvido (“Pact of Forgetting”) that governed Spain’s transition to democracy and that was sealed by the amnesty law of October 15, 1977. Pedro enacts a country’s pragmatic decision to avoid retribution in favor of a compromised working relationship. The two detectives are not unlike the two poles of Spain, still existing and divided as ever, which need, but are unable, to learn to live together. Whether and to what degree this will prove possible is the larger theme of the film. But La isla mínima refuses to adhere to easy binaries and prefers to play with the ambiguity of the leading characters. Juan’s last name, Robles (“oaks”), evokes a noble strain in his character: loyalty to his partner. Pedro, meanwhile, does not avoid violence whenever he feels it is necessary. He seems eager to differentiate himself from Juan, but the fact that their disagreements happen during shared activities suggests they may have more in common than Pedro is willing to admit. Indeed, the boundaries between criminality and legality are anything but clear in this powerful portrait of the fault lines of postdictatorship Spain. La isla mínima can thus be interpreted as a political allegory. The real climax and horror of the film come not with the resolution of the case but with the film’s implication that sometimes, in order to move forward, we must force ourselves to ignore unspeakable atrocities and crimes against humanity or else get caught up in a never-ending cycle of retribution. See also Grupo 7 (Unit 7); El niño (The Kid); No habrá paz para los malvados (No Rest for the Wicked) Bibliography Rubio Alcover, Agustín. “A vista de pájaro: La isla mínima.” El viejo topo 322 (2014): 70–72.

—Santiago Juan-Navarro

•  J • JAMÓN, JAMÓN (JAMON, JAMON) (1992) Director: Bigas Luna Screenplay: Cuca Canals, Josep Joan Bigas Luna, and Quim Monzó Specs: 94 minutes; color Jamón, jamón (1992) is the first in the “Iberian Portraits” trilogy of films, also including Huevos de oro (1993) and La teta y la luna (1994), directed by the late filmmaker Josep Joan Bigas Luna and jointly scripted by him and Cuca Canals (renowned Catalan author Quim Monzó wrote the dialogue only for Jamón jamón). Released in a year when the world had its eyes on Spain as the host of major global events—including the Olympics in Barcelona and the World Expo in Seville—the film has become iconic of that important historical moment of renewal. At a time when post-Franco Spain was making the most of these events to launch a new, modern image to the world—having entered the European Union only six years before—Jamón, jamón playfully (and perhaps painfully) reminds domestic and international audiences of those old-fashioned Spanish stereotypes (bullfighting, the Iberian macho) and troubled political past that the country was in a hurry to leave behind. The film also became famous for simultaneously launching the international careers of three Spanish actors—Javier Bardem, Penélope Cruz, and Jordi Mollà—who would then go on to have great success at home and in Hollywood. Bardem and Cruz, who would reunite professionally for Woody Allen’s Vicky, Cristina, Barcelona (2008) and eventually get married, would also be the first Spanish actors to win an Academy Award—they both did in the 2000s. Jamón, jamón won the Silver Lion at the Venice Film Festival in 1992, and has since become a “World Cinema” staple on DVD in foreign markets. It is worth highlighting that this was Bigas Luna’s most commercially successful and arguably best-known film (at least internationally) and that it has also attracted considerable academic attention. The film’s lighthearted critique of globalization, its postmodern mix of registers and genres (especially comedy and melodrama), and its depiction of the apparent redistribution of power and gender roles in democratic Spain all make it a thought-provoking text for study from sociohistorical and cultural studies perspectives. As suggested by its name, the “Iberian Portraits” trilogy engages in a selfconfessed conscious effort to scrutinize “Spanishness” from the perspective of a foreigner and to explore it with the earnestness of an “outsider.” Aware of the blind familiarity with one’s own culture, Bigas Luna famously declared to Isabel Pisano that his fascination with everything Spanish was inspired by an English friend who was visiting the country and was shocked by the sight of animals’ legs hanging from the ceiling of most bars. Set in the desert-like landscape of Los Monegros in northeastern Spain, Jamón, jamón revolves around two very different families, representative of the 213

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Penélope Cruz. Academy Entertainment / Photofest © Academy Entertainment

opposition between “old” and “new” Spain. Thus, “Silvia” (Penélope Cruz) and her mother, meaningfully named “Carmen” (but, ironically, played by an Italian actor, Elena Galiena), live in a basic property by a busy motorway. The loud noise of the trucks passing by is highly symbolic both of the vulnerability of this family and of their function in capitalist Spain as consumer goods. Mother and daughter cook traditional Spanish dishes for a living, catering for private parties and public events. At night Carmen also works as a prostitute in a roadside club to make ends meet, having separated from Silvia’s alcoholic and violent truckdriver father (Chema Mazo). Meanwhile, businesswoman “Conchita” (played by another Italian actor, Stefanía Sandrelli) and her apathetic husband (Juan Diego) have a very comfortable lifestyle in a large, luxurious property with their overprotected son, “José Luis” (Jordi Mollà), whose romantic relationship with lowerclass and prostitute’s daughter Silvia causes an important family conflict. While overseeing an advertising campaign for a new brand of male underwear produced in her factory (humorously named Samson), Conchita meets prospective male model and bullfighter “Raúl” (Javier Bardem), an old-fashioned macho, muscular stud who, appropriately, works in a ham factory named Los Conquistadores (The Conquistadors) and hires him both for the advertising campaign and to seduce Silvia, hoping to break up the spurned relationship with her son. In a complex and entangled set of love triangles, the film favors endless comparisons and juxtapositions based on age, gender, class, and sexual differences that have been studied at length by several scholars. In typical Bigas Luna fashion, Jamón, jamón is a feast for the senses, rich in provocative imagery and

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cultural references. In an effort to defuse and even break down now discredited oppositions between “high” and “low” culture, the film pays homage in equal measure to the famous Osborne bull silhouette designed by Manolo Prieto in the 1950s that still populates the Spanish countryside, a Coca-Cola can, or a Goya painting. Goya’s 1820–1824 black painting Duelo a Garrotazos (Fight with Cudgels) is famously recreated in the final fight between Raúl and José Luis, which will have devastating consequences for both. See also Javier Bardem (Appendix A); Josep Joan Bigas Luna (Appendix A); Penélope Cruz (Appendix A); Las edades de Lulú (The Ages of Lulu); Tatuaje (Tattoo); La teta y la luna (The Tit and the Moon) Bibliography Evans, Peter W. Jamón, jamón. Estudio crítico. Barcelona: Paidós, 2004. Fouz-Hernández, Santiago, and Alfredo Martínez-Expósito. Live Flesh: The Male Body in Contemporary Spanish Cinema. London: I. B. Tauris, 2007. Jordan, Barry, and Mark Allinson. Spanish Cinema: A Student’s Guide. London: Hodder Arnold, 2005. Pisano, Isabel. Bigas Luna: sombras de Bigas, luces de Luna. Madrid: Sociedad General de Autores y Editores, 2001. Sanabria, Carolina. Bigas Luna. El ojo voraz. Barcelona: Laertes, 2010.

—Santiago Fouz-Hernández

JUANA LA LOCA (MAD LOVE) (2001) Director: Vicente Aranda Screenplay: Vicente Aranda and Antonio Larreta, based on the homonymous play by Manuel Tamayo y Baus Specs: 113 minutes; color Writer and director Vicente Aranda’s Mad Love (Juana la Loca, in the original Spanish) is a 2001 adaptation of the 1855 historical drama La locura de amor by Manuel Tamayo y Baus. The film’s English-language title is a rough translation of Tamayo’s play, while its original Spanish-language title references the protagonist of both works, Queen Juana of Castile (1479–1555), the eldest daughter of Ferdinand and Isabella, whose alleged madness and controversial confinement following the untimely death of her husband and consort, Philip I, the first Habsburg ruler of Spain, have long been the subject of legend and historical debate. The film itself, however, is an exploration of female sexual desire set against a background of institutionalized patriarchy, reflecting 21st-century cultural sensibilities far more than those of either the 19th-century play or the actual 16th-century events. The first 40 of the film’s 115 minutes are devoted to fictionalized events preceding those in the original play: a virginal Juana’s reluctant departure from Spain to fulfill a matrimonial treaty with Philip Duke of Burgundy, the deep physical attraction between the couple, Juana’s life at the Burgundian court in Flanders, the awakening of her jealousy as a consequence of her husband’s early infidelities, and the couple’s departure to assume the crown of Castile after

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Queen Isabella’s death in 1504. Aranda’s “Juana” (Pilar López de Ayala) passes from stoic acceptance of her mother’s parting words about the duty of a princess to an intense sexual awakening beginning only minutes after she is first introduced to the aptly named “Philip the Handsome” (Daniele Liotti). Juana’s unbridled passion for her new husband, combined with the latter’s unrepentant marital infidelity, drive the young queen toward the emotional breakdown to which the film’s English title alludes. The ensuing action, which takes place in Burgos, Castile, loosely follows Tamayo’s original plot. The ever-unfaithful Philip carries on an affair with “Aixa” (Aldara in the play), a beautiful tavern dancer of Moorish descent. Juana’s repeated jealous outbursts give credence to doubts about her sanity, fueling in turn a plot by Philip, his Flemish retinue, and Juana’s father, the Machiavellian “Ferdinand of Aragón” (Héctor Colomé). It is at this point that the film makes its principal thematic departure from the play. The romantic Tamayo’s highly nationalistic work posits Aldara as the daughter of the last Muslim king of Granada; her seduction of the king is singularly motivated by the desire to avenge her late father against the daughter of his late adversary, Queen Isabella. No less insidious are Philip and his Flemish courtiers, intent on exploiting Spain’s wealth and installing the House of Habsburg on the throne. Absent from the play, but no less unscrupulous, is the Aragonese Ferdinand, who is mentioned as another pretender to Juana’s crown. While the queen laments her fate, her faithful Castilian subjects, led by the honorable Don Alvar (“Álvaro” in the film), and the devoted people of Burgos rally to the defense of their legitimate ruler against her foreign enemies. Frequent invocations of “Isabela la Católica” serve as a reminder of Tamayo’s Castilian nationalism. Juana’s subsequent forgiveness of Aldara’s treachery, inspiring Philip’s mistress to embrace “the true faith,” further underscores connections between the cross and sword lying at the heart of conservative Spanish ideology. Finally, Philip’s dying confession of his love for Juana is accompanied by an acknowledgment of his wrongdoing toward the Castilian people and an exhortation that their son, the future Holy Roman emperor Charles V, learn from his father’s mistakes. Tamayo ends the play with Juana insisting that she be left alone with her “sleeping” husband, thus only alluding discretely to the queen’s later confinement and the legend of her necrophilic devotion to Philip. Whereas Tamayo elides the more controversial aspects of the Juana la Loca legend in favor of nationalistic and religious themes, Aranda embraces them. Aixa (Manuela Arcuri) is no longer a vengeful Moorish princess but rather a marginalized Arab girl who realizes that the king’s love might alleviate her misery. Álvaro (Eloy Azorín), reinvented as Juana’s childhood playmate, is torn between his duty to his queen and his unrequited love for her. At different points in the film, both the stoic “Isabella of Castile” (Susi Sánchez) and the ruthless Ferdinand of Aragón allude to the truth that theirs was a loveless marriage of political convenience. Philip is less a foreign prince scheming to gain the Spanish crown and more an embodiment of misogyny and patriarchy in his objectification of women and his resentment over Juana’s superior status in the eyes of her subjects. Juana’s descent into madness is punctuated by an animalistic pathology: after giving birth in a toilet during a ball, she chews through the infant’s umbilical cord; she repeatedly sniffs at her husband and her ladies-in-waiting in search

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of olfactory evidence of his infidelity. She later manipulates the long-suffering Álvaro in order to provoke Philip’s jealousy, and she is more intent on killing Aixa than showing her the example of Christian mercy. Finally, the entire film is framed by opening and closing scenes of an aged Juana living as a nun in the convent of Tordesillas. In the second of these, Juana confesses in an interior monologue that she is still aroused by the mere memory of her husband’s bodily odors. Then, in the final scene of the film, in which Philip’s 50-year-old sarcophagus is opened, Juana bends down to place a passionate kiss on the mouth of her husband’s shroud-covered remains. See also Vicente Aranda (Appendix A) —Eric L. Reinholtz

1 •  K  • KATMANDÚ, UN ESPEJO EN EL CIELO (KATHMANDU LULLABY) (2011) Director: Icíar Bollaín Screenplay: Icíar Bollaín, with the collaboration of Paul Laverty Specs: 104 minutes; color In Kathmandu Lullaby, director Icíar Bollaín works with her longtime collaborator (and husband) Paul Laverty to create a screenplay that explores many important issues, such as the importance of education, poverty, intercultural communication, the injustice of caste systems, and identity. After their successful collaboration on También la lluvia (Even the Rain, 2010), the screenplay for Kathmandu Lullaby promises much but delivers very little. Both of these films stray from Bollaín’s earlier work that studied important social issues in Spain: immigration is explored in Flores de otro mundo (Flowers from Another World, 1999) while Te doy mis ojos (Take My Eyes, 2003) confronts the difficult problem of domestic violence. Even the Rain and Kathmandu Lullaby, however, expand their focus and look beyond the Spanish borders to portray a Spaniard living in a developing country and experiencing firsthand the social prejudice, corruption, and injustice that make living in these places a challenge for many, especially the marginalized members of these societies. Nevertheless, where Even the Rain succeeds in weaving together the two primary storylines—of a film crew making a story about the Conquest of the Americas along with Bolivia’s War of Water—Kathmandu Lullaby is halted and unconvincing while trying to address too many important themes to be able to fully develop any one of them. The film is inspired by A Teacher in Kathmandu by Victoria Subirana, which is an autobiographical account of her time spent in Kathmandu in the late 1980s. Nevertheless, the film has incorporated some fictional elements that stray from Subirana’s account in her book. The film’s protagonist is “Laia” (Verónica Echegui), an idealistic Catalonian aid worker who aims to set up a school in Kathmandu’s slums in the 19990s, but quickly learns that there are many aspects of Nepali culture that are unfamiliar to her. Because of visa problems, Laia decides to enter into a marriage of convenience with “Tshiring” (Norbu Tsering Gurung), a local young man from a remote Himalayan village. Before they marry she makes clear to him that she does not plan to have a physical relationship with him, and that her only reason for getting married is to resolve the problem with her expired visa. Nevertheless, during a grueling journey they take together to Tshiring’s remote village in the Mustang region of the Himalayas, Laia quickly falls in love with him, perhaps because she is inspired by the authenticity and beauty of his native culture and the majestic landscape of his home village. Unfortunately, Laia and Tshiring’s

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Verónica Echegui (right). Alta Films / Photofest © Alta Films

burgeoning relationship is not sufficiently developed and the two don’t share any chemistry, and as a consequence, this part of the story lacks verisimilitude. Laia’s work as a teacher and an advocate for the poor children she aims to help in her new school is frustrated by many aspects of the local culture that are unfamiliar to her, namely corruption, the prejudice inherent in the caste system, and inflexible gender roles. Her co-teacher and new friend “Sharmila” (Saumyata Bhattarai) is sympathetic and truly hopes to help Laia set up and run the school. Nevertheless, Sharmila’s family disapproves of her work with children of such a low caste, and for that reason she finds herself in a difficult situation as she navigates keeping her family happy and fully committing herself to the work that she loves. The film sheds light on the patriarchal gender norms of this traditional society as Sharmila is faced with a dilemma when she learns that she is pregnant with a baby girl rather than a longed-for boy. She ultimately makes the decision to have a late term abortion, which, in one of the most poignant scenes of the film, takes her life. Through the use of flashbacks, the film explains that at least part of Laia’s commitment to providing education to the most disadvantaged members of society stems from her experience as a poor child who attended a very conservative religious school run by nuns. Clearly she wants to create a more nourishing environment in the schools she creates for Kathmandu’s poor children than the one she was provided as a young child in her native Spain. Another flashback of Laia navigating a tense relationship as a young wife with her husband while she also pursuing university studies shows parallels between Laia’s situation in

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Spain prior to her trip and her good friend Sharmila’s difficulties in balancing the personal and professional aspects of her life in Nepal. While the storyline lacks unity and dramatic tension at times, viewers may overlook these flaws in the sequences that are shot during Laia and her husband’s trek to his home village in the Himalayas. Kudos go to cinematographer Antonio Riestra for effectively capturing the beauty and majesty of this incredible landscape. The two primary Nepalese actors are both amateurs, and it shows, especially in Tsering Gurung’s often-stilted performance. Verónica Echegui creates a credible Laia, with the depth of her emotions often showing in her beautiful and majestic dark eyes. The quality of Echegui’s work was acknowledged when she was nominated for a Goya Award for her performance in the film. See also Icíar Bollaín (Appendix A); Flores de otro mundo (Flowers from Another World); También la lluvia (Even the Rain); Te doy mis ojos (Take My Eyes) —Susan Walter

KIKA (KIKA) (1993) Director: Pedro Almodóvar Screenplay: Pedro Almodóvar Specs: 109 minutes; color Kika is a 1993 melodramatic comedy film directed by Pedro Almodóvar. The film tells multiple storylines that are all connected to the eponymous character, a makeup artist living in Madrid and romantically involved with a mysterious American writer and his photographer stepson. The film was nominated for eight Goya Awards and won for Best Actress in 1994. Based on an original screenplay, Kika marks an intriguing period in the famed filmmaker’s career. It resides in the middle of Almodóvar’s oeuvre and contains the director’s earlier “bad-boy” sentiments of Laberinto de pasiones (Labyrinth of Passion, 1982) and ¿Qué he hecho yo para merecer esto? (What Have I Done to Deserve This?, 1984) while framing such excesses around elements that would personify his later masterpieces such as Carne trémula (Live Flesh, 1997), Todo sobre mi madre (All about My Mother, 1999), and Hable con ella (Talk to Her, 2002). The film begins with photographer “Ramón” (Álex Casanova) returning to his family’s home moments after his mother has supposedly shot her husband in the arm and then taken her own life. Three years later, a vivacious, middle-aged cosmetologist named “Kika” (Verónica Forqué) recounts a story to her coworkers about a time she was called to “make up” a corpse before his funeral. A flashback to two years ago shows Kika working for a television talk show about to host a successful American author, “Nicholas” (Peter Coyote), who has moved to and written a book set in Spain. As she puts on the final touches of makeup, Kika asks Nicholas to sign a copy of his book for her, which he does—but also writes his phone number. The two become sexually involved, but Kika is soon called upon by Nicholas to “make up” his dead stepson, Ramón. As she begins putting on a foundation,

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Verónica Forqué and Rossy de Palma. October Films / Photofest © October Films

Kika tells the body that he is very good looking and that if he were alive, she would love to spend the rest of her life with him. Ramón’s face twitches and Kika screams because he is not dead, just in a brief coma brought on by a heart condition. The movie then returns to the present day where Kika and Ramón are living together and employ “Juana” (Rossy de Palma), a homely maid with a disturbing family story involving incest and bestiality and who is also obsessed with a graphic, true crime reality television show, Today’s Worse, hosted by the scarred, eccentric “Andrea” (Victoria Abril). Nicholas returns to Madrid and eventually comes to live with Ramón and Kika, residing in the second story of their apartment. The American writer soon has a revolving door of women; some of whom he invites, like Kika’s friend “Amparo” (Anabel Alonso), and others who track him down, like “Susana” (Bibí Andersen). During this time, Ramón proposes to Kika, who is caught off guard but agrees to marry him. They try to have sex, but it is interrupted by Ramón’s need to take photographs of each other in their moments of passion and ecstasy. Soon after their engagement, Ramón is visiting his mother’s now abandoned home with Nicholas. During their visit, Andrea arrives and asks Nicholas if he would be willing to rent it for a production she wants to film about a murdered couple, but he tells her that she would have to ask Ramón. She knows that would be difficult and reveals that the scar on her face was caused by Ramón. When the young man sees Andrea, he yells at her, demanding she leave his family’s estate. She does, but Nicholas condemns his stepson’s actions. Ramón tells Nicholas that Andrea is insane and that she cut her face and tried to kill herself when he ended their past relationship.

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The film then cuts to Kika and Ramón’s apartment, where they and Juana are watching Andrea’s show. The episode is about a masked cult that practices public self-flagellation and self-inflicted bodily harm. Andrea reveals that the leader of this group is “Pablo” (Santiago Lajusticia), a former porn star and convict who was able to leave prison by promising to devote his life to this lifestyle. Juana watches the violent acts the cult members perform on one another with great interest. The next morning, Juana is making lunch when someone knocks on the front door. She opens it and Pablo enters. It is revealed the two are siblings and that he wants to steal some things from the apartment because he is a fugitive. Juana tells him to tie her up so she is not suspected of helping him and that he needs to be quick because Kika is sleeping in the other room. Pablo ties up his sister and begins putting Ramón’s cameras in bags. He comes across a resting Kika and proceeds to rape her. While Kika is being raped, an unseen man in a neighboring apartment watches through the lens of a camera. He calls the police but does not identify himself. Meanwhile, Juana, still tied to a chair, stumbles into Kika’s room to try and stop the rape. Pablo will not stop, even after the police break down the front door and hold a gun to his head. The police finally tear Pablo off Kika and he jumps from the apartment’s balcony to the street below. At that exact moment, Andrea arrives on the scene by motorbike. Pablo pushes Andrea off the bike and steals it, riding off into the crowded streets of Madrid. The police question Kika and Juana and leave. Later that evening, Ramón arrives home and Kika tells him about the rape and also confesses that she has been secretly sleeping with Nicholas for months. Ramón is unemotional about both the rape and infidelity, which makes Kika anxious and frustrated. That night, on her program, Andrea plays a video that shows footage of Kika’s rape. The tape was presumably made by the voyeur who called the police, but his identity is still unknown. This humiliates Kika and she decides to leave the city. With bags packed, Kika waits for a taxi outside her apartment building. Juana is also leaving the city and decides to tell her former employer that Pablo is actually her brother. Kika is stunned into silence and gets into a taxi and drives away without saying a word. Ramón confronts his stepfather about the affair, but Nicholas simply makes the case that it was meaningless and the most important thing is to discover who the voyeur was who called the police and made the video. Ramón admits that he has always watched Kika from his studio that is opposite her apartment and he was the one who called the police, but he did not make the tape. A few days later, Ramón is going through some items his mother left him, including her diary, which, until that moment, he never read. Once he does, he discovers multiple entries his mother made that described a terrible, abusive relationship with her second husband, Nicholas. These entries make Ramón question his mother’s suicide and he begins to suspect it as a murder. Meanwhile, Andrea is reviewing the tape of Kika’s rape and notices Nicholas in the apartment above having sex with Susana followed by a quick glimpse of someone being hit with a vase. Nicholas is now at his wife’s estate dragging the lifeless, bloodied body of Susana through the front hall. Ramón arrives and Nicholas

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hides Susana’s body in a bathtub. Ramón accuses Nicholas of murdering his mother, but the American maintains that she took her own life and that his stepson needs to relax. Going to the bathroom to throw water on his face, Ramón discovers Susana’s body and faints. Nicholas examines him and determines his stepson has died from his heart condition. He puts Ramón’s body in a bedroom and sees Andrea approaching the estate. She demands to be let in, breaking windows and wielding a handgun. Nicholas refuses and is shot in the leg. Andrea enters and tries to get Nicholas to admit he is actually a serial killer, but he refuses and tries to attack her, but she shoots him twice in the stomach. Thinking he is dead, Andrea begins to search the house but is pulled to the ground by Nicholas, who shoots her with her own gun. Andrea dies immediately and Nicholas is taking his last breaths when Kika arrives. He gives her a manuscript and tells her to change the name of the killer to his and publish the book as his autobiography. Nicholas then dies in Kika’s arms. Kika then discovers Ramón and thinks he too is dead. Using an old lamp, she electrocutes his toe to jumpstart his heart. Ramón awakens and Kika tells him Nicholas and Andrea are dead. She calls an ambulance and tells Ramón she will follow in her car. En route, the driver of a broken-down car flags Kika down. She offers to drive him to the nearest gas station and he tells her he will point her in the right direction. Kika represents Almodóvar’s first true critical disaster. Though financially successful, the film was reviled by both Spanish and international critics. Many scholars have assessed the main reason for the disdain stemmed from the nearly 10-minute rape scene that was played for laughs. Upon viewing the film, however, the most obvious reason for its lack of appreciation is that Almodóvar seems to be making five movies in one. While the director has always dabbled in multigeneric productions throughout his career, Kika just has too much. It is a comedy, a melodrama, a mystery, a thriller, a sexual exploitation, a feminist piece, a commentary, and a satire, as well as containing bountiful homages to Hitchcock and past and future productions in Almodóvar’s own canon. Characters enter and exit without resolution and the result makes the film seem lacking, especially when compared to any of the director’s other productions. See also Victoria Abril (Appendix A); Pedro Almodóvar (Appendix A); ¡Átame! (Tie Me Up! Tie Me Down!); Carne trémula (Live Flesh); Hable con ella (Talk to Her); La ley del deseo (Law of Desire); La piel que habito (The Skin I Live In) Bibliography D’Lugo, Marvin. Pedro Almodóvar (Contemporary Film Directors). Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2006 Edwards, Gwynne. Almodóvar: Labyrinths of Passion. London: Peter Owen, 2001.

—Jonathan Clark

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KRÁMPACK (NICO AND DANI) (2000) Director: Cesc Gay Screenplay: Tomás Aragay and Cesc Gay, based on a play by Jordi Sánchez Specs: 90 minutes; color Krámpack is a 2000 coming-of-age drama film directed by Cesc Gay. It tells the story of two teenage best friends—one straight and looking to have his first sexual experience, the other coming to terms with his sexuality and his attraction to his best friend—who spend an unsupervised summer together in a beautiful seaside village. Krámpack, Gay’s second feature film as writer/director, played at numerous film festivals and won multiple awards, including a Special Award of the Youth at the 2000 Cannes Film Festival. Based on a play by the same name by Jordi Sánchez, Krámpack begins with the parents of 17-year-old “Dani” (Fernando Ramallo) embarking on an Egyptian vacation, leaving the summer house in the care of their son. Shortly after they leave, “Julián” (Chisco Amado), a client of Dani’s father, arrives to deliver a manuscript. Dani tells him his father just left and they begin to talk about the boy’s future. Dani wishes to be a writer and Julián is impressed, suggesting that he would like to read whatever his new friend has written. After Julián leaves, Dani goes to the train station to meet his best friend “Nico” (Jordi Vilches), who is visiting for two weeks. They have been friends since their early childhood and have spent every summer together fishing, hunting, and swimming; however, this year, Nico wants both of them to forgo the usual excursions and try to find

Marieta Orozco, Jordi Vilches, and Esther Nubiola. Avatar Films / Photofest © Avatar Films

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girls willing to have sex. Dani seems hesitant about this but remains quiet on the subject. On their way back from the station, Nico and Dani meet “Elena” (Marieta Orozco) and her best friend “Berta” (Esther Nubiola), two girls who passingly knew Dani from previous summers. Nico is immediately attracted to Elena and he assumes Dani will take Berta. They arrange to meet later that evening at a bar, although Dani wishes he could just be with his friend. At the house, Nico unpacks and sees “Marianne” (Myriam Mézières), Dani’s family cook and housekeeper. She asks the boys what their plans are for the evening and tells them she wishes she could go out with them. Once the boys arrive at the bar, the girls at first ignore them, instead talking with taller, older men. Eventually, however, the girls join Nico and Dani and they dance and drink into the night. Back at home, Dani tells Nico of a way to masturbate where one sits on his hand until it is numb. They do this while talking to each other and then fall asleep. The next morning, “Sonia” (Ana Gracia), Dani’s English teacher, arrives for that day’s lesson. She sees Nico and Dani in bed and assumes they have started experimenting with each other sexually. During the lesson, she gently asks Dani about his relationship with Nico but does not receive any confirmation on her theory. Nico comes into the study to tell Dani that Berta and Elena invited them on a picnic. Dani cuts the lesson short and goes with his friend and the girls. Nico is paired with Elena and shows her how a boomerang works and Berta is trying to get closer to Dani. They travel to the beach and play in the surf for the remainder of the day. That night, Nico and Dani masturbate each other and the latter goes even further and performs oral sex on his friend. Neither resist these actions and it is not spoken about the following morning. Nico tells Dani that he has invited the girls over for a dinner party and the two begin to prepare. They visit a grocery store for food and “supplies” (condoms), expecting the girls to “put out.” While browsing for condoms, Julián spots Dani and approaches him. They talk for a little while and Julián discovers Dani is writing a novel. Once again, he offers to read it once it is finished. He also suggests a Swedish brand of condoms, but Dani prefers the ones that taste like strawberries. This comment puts a quizzical look on Julián’s face as he walks away. That evening, Nico and Dani prepare dinner and decide to spike the sangria with pills that, according to Dani’s father, makes everyone “hot” and ready for sex. Presumably the pills are meant to be Viagra or some such drug, but they mistakenly grab valium and crush this into the drink. Elena and Berta arrive and the party begins. They drink, dance, smoke pot, and pair off. Berta begins to complain that she is sleepy and her stomach hurts and Dani takes her outside to his camper for fresh air and some privacy. Inside the vehicle, Berta passes out and Dani attempts to have sex with her but is unsuccessful, realizing at that moment he has no interest in girls. He goes back inside where Nico and Elena are kissing passionately. Dani suggests a three-way and as Elena begins to object, Berta walks in asking to go home. The girls leave and Nico becomes angry with Dani for ruining the evening. They decide to sleep in the camper and Dani tells Nico that they should “screw.” At first confused, Nico joins Dani and the two fumble and attempt to have anal sex.

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The following morning, Sonia arrives at the house and encounters a disgusted Marianne, who yells about how she refuses to clean. Sonia asks where the boys are, but Marianne does not know. The tutor walks around the house and approaches the camper’s askew door and sees Nico and Dani sleeping in each other’s arms. Later that day, Sonia sees her old friend Julián. He casually mentions Dani’s name and Sonia immediately becomes defensive because she knows Julián reputation with younger men and does not want Dani to get hurt. Julián says Dani and he are only friends and nothing more. Later that day, Nico tells Dani he has made plans with Elena to have sex. This angers Dani and he leaves the house to find Elena. When he meets her, Dani tells Elena that Nico is gay and that she should not have sex with him. She does not believe him and goes to meet Nico at a small cabin on the beach. Nico arrives and Elena tells him that she has a boyfriend, yet wants to have sex with him—but only this one time. He agrees and the two go inside and close the door as they undress. Dani wanders around the town and meets Julián, who invites him to a dinner party. Dani arrives at the party and sees Sonia, who is clearly angry at Julián for inviting the boy. Over the course of the night, Dani drinks too much and vomits in the backyard and passes out on Julián’s sofa. Nico arrives home the next morning and asks Marianne if she has seen Dani. She has not and Nico begins to worry. Sonia arrives to drop something off and Nico asks her about Dani. She reassures him that Dani is fine but also questions Nico on the nature of the boys’ relationship. She leaves convinced they are only friends. Nico then goes out to look for his friend and comes across Berta, who tells him that maybe next summer they could begin to see each other. Nico smiles and transfers his affections from Elena to Berta. Julián and Dani spend the day together sailing. Once they arrive back at Julián’s house, Dani kisses him. Julián asks Dani if he knows what he is doing and kisses him back. As Julián goes to get a drink for both of them, Dani sits and thinks for a moment and then leaves. Julián returns to find the room empty but does not pursue Dani. Dani arrives home and he and Nico begin to fight, but soon stop and begin to laugh. Even though nothing is spoken, the two seem to be friends again. The next morning, they hunt, fish, and swim, pastimes they do every summer. Back at the house, Nico packs his bags and they leave for the train station. The two boys hug and say they will see each other soon. As Nico sits on the train, a beautiful woman sits across from him and he attempts to talk to her. Dani goes to the beach and sits in the sand watching people walk by, paying particular attention to an attractive man just out of the ocean. After a few moments, Dani stands up and walks into the water himself. Perhaps the most striking element of the film is how “normal” everything on-screen appears. While set in an exotic location, the people that populate the narrative, particularly the four younger characters, come across as genuine and not just actors playing dress-up. The late Roger Ebert praised Krámpack for being a natural representation of teenage youth and sexuality. He made careful note of an important aspect concerning the film’s plot in relation to typical American productions by how it avoids the trademark crude motifs that highlight such films as Paul Weitz’s American Pie (1999). The teenagers in this film (actually

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played by teenage actors and not men and women in their twenties or thirties) look and act their age. Nico's and Dani’s voices occasional crack, they have a little acne, cannot dance very well, and look foolish when trying to act “manly” around the girls they try to win over for sex. They play their roles authentically. The plot of the film, unlike what would likely have occurred in an American production, is also realistic and not wrapped up tidily in the end, although there is some sense of closure. While Nico “makes it” with Elena, there is the possibility left open for a more meaningful relationship next summer with Berta. Dani’s story arguably begins in the final scene of the film as he comes to terms with his sexuality and has learned what he does not want, or cannot have, in a relationship. The final shot of him walking toward the ocean surf reflects his first steps into a broad world where he will likely discover uncertainty, heartache, and, possibly, happiness. See also Cesc Gay (Appendix A); En la ciudad (In the City); Una pistola en cada mano (A Gun in Each Hand) Bibliography Boschi, Elena. “Sexuality and the Nation: Urban Popular Music and Queer Identities in Krámpack.” Quaderns 9 (2014): 87–95. Dawson, Leanne. “Queer European Cinema: Queering Cinematic Time and Space.” Studies in European Cinema 12, no. 3 (2015): 185–204. Ebert, Roger. “Reviews: Nico and Dani.” RogerEbert.com. June 15, 2001. http://www.roger ebert.com/reviews/nico-and-dani-2001 (July 2, 2016).

—Jonathan Clark

1 •  L  • LABERINTO DE PASIONES (LABYRINTH OF PASSION) (1982) Director: Pedro Almodóvar Screenplay: Pedro Almodóvar Specs: 95 minutes; color Laberinto de pasiones is the second film by director Pedro Almodóvar, one of Spain’s most popular artists and cinematic auteurs. Almodóvar is renowned for his tendency to quote and recycle tropes and thematics from Hollywood’s cinema and from mass culture as well as for his preference for dramatic stories filled with surrealistic irony. The film, produced by Musidora (who owned the Alphaville complex in Madrid), received a budget of 20 million pesetas (about $250,000) that allowed Almodóvar some technical advances from his previous work, Pepi, Luci, Bom, y otra chicas del montón. Laberinto de pasiones, presented first at the San Sebastián Festival, was poorly received by the critics, but it was acclaimed by the public and was played at night for over a year at the Alphaville. The story, which is as complex as the majority of Almodóvar’s plots, is set in Madrid and alternates between flashbacks and present-tense sequences without clear marks between them. The plot, inspired by American screwball comedies, is centered on the juxtaposition of the numerous protagonists’ tumult of passions, which presents an array of different facets, from a will to dominate and obsessive attraction to incest and nymphomania. “Sexilia” (Celia Roth) is the leading vocalist of a girl band and a man-eater who continually searches the streets of the capital for men and proposes group sex to those she meets. She regularly visits a psychologist, “Susana Díaz” (Ofelia Angelica), who is in love with Sexilia’s frigid father, the bioecologist “Dr. De la Peña” (Fernando Vivanco). Simultaneously, “Queti” (Marta Fernández-Muro) is enveloped in a tumultuous sexual relationship with her own father (Luis Ciges), who pretends that she is suffering from schizophrenia. She justifies her consent to being raped by affirming that she has been traumatized by her mother’s recent abandonment of her family and has become used to her father’s madness. After explaining her problems to Sexilia, of whom she is a great fan, Queti goes to a plastic surgery clinic, where she is remade in the very appearance of Sexilia. In the meantime, “Riza Niro” (Imanol Arias), the son of the emperor of Tiran, reaches Madrid as an exile; he encounters a medical student, “Sadec” (Antonio Banderas), on the streets and has sex with him at his apartment, where he discovers that Sadec is part of a fundamentalist cell that wants to kidnap him. Sadec has a very developed sense of smell and, after realizing that he has fallen in love with Riza, discovers his identity as the prince of Tiran. “Toraya” (Helga Line), who is a client of Dr. De la Peña and the former empress of Tiran, is also looking for Riza. The film narrates about two rival music groups, a girl band and a boy band, that compete on the local scene. After the leading vocalist 228

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of the Ellos has an accident, Riza Niro takes his place during a concert, going by the name of “Johnny.” On this occasion, he meets Sexilia; they are fascinated by each other and have a date the day after. However, after discovering that Riza and Toraya have slept together (because Riza wanted to be sure he was bisexual), Sexilia remembers a traumatic memory of her childhood in which young Riza was playing on a beach with her until Toraya attempted to seduce him. The last sequences of the film involve the discovery of Riza’s noble identity by the entire cast of characters and his attempt to leave the country with Sexilia in a final chase. The story ends with Riza and Sexilia’s happy intercourse on the flight to a tropical island. As is the case in other films by Almodóvar, such as Entre tinieblas (Dark Habits, 1983) and La flor de mi secreto (The Flower of My Secret, 1995), gay subculture, cross-dressing characters, and drug addiction are central to the storyline. The director himself appears in a cameo as a transvestite while performing the track “Suck It to Me” with Fanny McNamara. Thematic exaggeration and absurd situations are constant throughout the film, whose mise-en-scéne is characterized by extravagant costumes and vivid colors in the décor. The background of the characters’ actions are the dying days of the Movida Madrileña, a cultural movement that developed after the death of General Franco in 1975. See also Los abrazos rotos (Broken Embraces); Pedro Almodóvar (Appendix A); Carne trémula (Live Flesh); La flor de mi secreto (The Flower of My Secret); La ley del deseo (Law of Desire); Mujeres al borde de un ataque de nervios (Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown); ¿Qué he hecho yo para merecer esto? (What Have I Done to Deserve This?); Tacones lejanos (High Heels) Bibliography D’Lugo, Marvin. Pedro Almodóvar. Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 2006. Sotinel, Thomas. Masters of Cinema: Pedro Almodóvar. Paris: Cahiers du Cinema, 2010.

—Antonio Sanna

EL LABERINTO DEL FAUNO (PAN’S LABYRINTH) (2006) Director: Guillermo del Toro Screenplay: Guillermo del Toro Specs: 118 minutes; color Although El laberinto del fauno may be directed by a Mexican auteur, Guillermo del Toro, it centers on the years directly following the Republican defeat in the Spanish Civil War and the early period of the Franco dictatorship, during which, in the north, resistance soldiers known as the Maquis continued to fight against the regime. Further, the film was extremely well received in Spain, nominated at the Goyas for Best Film, Best Director (del Toro), Best Production Design (Eugenio Caballero), Best Actor (Sergi López), Best Actress (Maribel Verdú), and Best Original Score (Javier Navarrete), as well as winning eight awards at the ceremony for Best Original Screenplay (del Toro), Best New Actress (Ivana Baquero), Best Cinematography (Guillermo Navarro), Best Sound (Miguel Ángel Polo and

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Ivana Baquero and Doug Jones. Picturehouse / Photofest © Picturehouse

Martín Hernández), Best Makeup and Hairstyles (José Quetglás and Blanca Sánchez), Best Special Effects (Reyes Abades, Everett Burrell, Edward Irastorza, and Emilio Ruíz del Río), Best Editing (Bernat Vilaplana), and Best Sound (Jaime Baksht). The film was also heralded in the United States, nominated for Academy Awards for Best Original Screenplay (del Toro), Best Original Score (Navarrete), and Best Foreign Language Film, as well as taking home three Oscars for Best Achievement in Cinematography (Navarro), Best Achievement in Art Direction (Caballero and Pilar Revuelta), and Best Achievement in Makeup (David Martí and Montse Ribé). In total—in Spain and internationally—El laberinto received a staggering 96 wins and 99 nominations. The plot of the film blends historical reality and fantasy in interesting ways, not the least of which is the manner in which it presents an alternate historical ending to the Maquis’ rebellion, insinuating that their forces might actually overturn the dictatorship since the rebels in the film ultimately defeat the Francoist “Captain Vidal” (Sergi López). More literal blending of fantasy and reality occurs in the film as the young “Ofelia” (Ivana Baquero) of 1944 Spain also exists in a supernatural underworld as the long-lost “Princess Moanna” (also played by Ivana Baquero). Ofelia’s tragic adventure begins as she rides with her mother, “Carmen” (Ariadna Gil), to meet her new stepfather, Vidal. At the mill, which acts as his stronghold, Ofelia ventures into the labyrinth one evening and meets the “Faun” (Doug Jones), who recognizes her as Princess Moanna and gives her three tasks to complete in order to reclaim her rightful place as underworld royalty and be reunited with her family.

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Ofelia accepts the challenge and completes her first task, which involves crawling deep into the trunk of a massive fig tree inhabited by an enormous toad, from whose belly she must retrieve a key, as well as release the tree from its intrusive host. As with all the tasks, Ofelia’s fairy-tale adventures seem to symbolically mirror the coetaneous events of 1944 Spain. In this sense, the first test can be read in two opposing directions. While relinquishing the tree from its parasitic toad-dweller can be compared to Vidal’s desire to cleanse the land of the Maquis, the victory over the gluttonous toad can also be understood as a foreshadowing of the Maquis’ filmic triumph over the Francoist forces, led by Vidal, which gorge themselves on luscious banquets while the rest of the population languishes in hunger. Ofelia’s second task involves retrieving an elaborate dagger from the lair of the “Pale Man” (also played by Doug Jones). In comparison to the previously vanquished toad, the Pale Man displays an even more lucid relationship to the oppressive forces of Francoist Spain. His opulent banquet table is for him alone, and Ofelia is warned about waking the child-eating monster should she partake of his supper, similar to the way that the toad pointed to the all-consuming gluttony of the Francoists. In addition, the Pale Man’s lair bears striking resemblance to a perverse Church, and his hands bear the marks of the stigmata, reminiscent of the unholy alliance between the Franco regime and the Catholic Church during the dictatorship. As if his ties to Francoist Spain could not be clearer, the Pale Man’s outstretched hands resemble the symbol of the Falangist movement in Spain, five arrows and yoke. In such a sense, Ofelia’s victory over the Pale Man again becomes symbolic of the Maquis’ victory over Vidal, captain of Franco’s forces, in the end of the film. Although Ofelia makes it out of the Pale Man’s lair with the dagger just in the nick of time, the Faun is angered by her disobedience and at first refuses to give her the third task since she has been tempted by the banquet table and has eaten some grapes, waking the Pale Man and instigating his voracious pursuit and consumption of her fairies. As Ofelia is chastised by the Faun, Vidal rabidly pursues the rebels. He captures and tortures one for information. When he finds his doctor, “Ferreiro” (Álex Angulo), who is actually a double agent for the Maquis, mercifully euthanizing the captive, Vidal shoots and kills him. Carmen then goes into labor with his son and dies in childbirth since Vidal has murdered the doctor and uncovered the supernatural mandrake root that the Faun had given Ofelia to protect her mother. With her mother and Vidal’s housekeeper, “Mercedes” (Maribel Verdú), both gone, as the latter is discovered as a rebel spy, Ofelia remains locked in her room. The Faun finally returns to present her with the third and final task—she must bring her newborn brother to the labyrinth. After escaping her room and sedating Vidal, Ofelia arrives at the labyrinth only to find out that she must sacrifice her brother in order to open the portal and return to the underworld. Ofelia refuses and is soon pursued by a groggy Vidal, who shoots Ofelia and attempts to escape the labyrinth with his son. At the mouth of the labyrinth, the Maquis await Vidal. Accepting defeat, he hands his son to Mercedes and only requests that his son know the hour of his death, to which Mercedes replies that his son will never even know his name. An inversion of actual historical memory, in which

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it is the Maquis whose names have been erased from record, the film ends as it begins, with Ofelia’s blood dripping into the center of the labyrinth, now opening the portal to the underworld with her self-sacrifice, not that of her brother, in yet another inversion of the sanguineous fratricide of the Spanish Civil War. In this other world, as in the fictional film El laberinto, another fate awaits Ofelia, who is indeed Princess Moanna, returned to reclaim her throne. One of the primary themes of the film, hence, is the recuperation of the historical memory of the losers of the Civil War, too long extinguished by the regime, as well as the informal pact of desmemoria (forgetfulness) during the Transition years. As such, the film enacts a contrived, “prosthetic memory” (Ellis and Sánchez-Arce 2011), or a fictionalized account of the years following the Civil War—overtly fictional because this is a film fraught with fantasy, not one that purports to be recounting historical narrative as such. In this sense, the selfaware, prosthetic memory of the film causes the audience to question the very act of remembering itself—who does the remembering, why, and how. In sum, as prosthetic memory, the film forces the public to recount and recall the memories of the defeated, which have been erased by historical amnesia. As forgotten memories, it could be argued that the only way to present them is in fictionalized form, as del Toro does in this very film. See also Caracremada (Caracremada); Soldados de Salamina (Soldiers of Salamis); Guillermo del Toro (Appendix A) Bibliography Davies, Ann, and Deborah Shaw. The Transnational Fantasies of Guillermo del Toro. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2014. Diestro-Dópido, Mar. Pan’s Labyrinth. London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2013. Ellis, Jonathan, and Ana María Sánchez-Arce. “The Unquiet Dead: Memories of the Spanish Civil War in Guillermo del Toro’s Cinema.” In Millennial Cinema: Memory in Global Film, edited by Amresh Sinha and Terrence McSweeney, 173–91. New York: Wallflower Press, 2011.

—Amanda Eaton McMenamin

EL LÁPIZ DEL CARPINTERO (THE CARPENTER’S PENCIL) (2003) Director: Antón Reixa Screenplay: Antón Reixa and Xosé Morais, based on the novel of the same title by Manuel Rivas Specs: 109 minutes; color El lápiz del carpintero is a 2003 film directed by Antón Reixa that is an adaptation of Manuel Rivas’s 1998 novel of the same title. It tells the story of a prison guard who witnesses and determines the fate of a liberal activist arrested in 1936 and who has a love affair with a woman who fights for his liberation. The film was awarded the prize for Best Actor to Luis Tosar at the International Film Festival of Mar del Plata in 2004.

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Rivas not only approved the adapted screenplay but also collaborated with Reixa on the production. The romantic melodrama set in Galicia during the Spanish Civil War follows the novel faithfully, although it converts the book’s complex narrative structure based on flashbacks and stream of consciousness into a more linear and chronological plotline. Much of the story develops out of a narrative frame in the present, as “Herbal” (Luis Tosar) shares his memories with a prostitute at a roadside bar after she shows curiosity for the carpenter’s pencil he always carries with him. The story goes back to the summer of 1936 when supporters of the military coup persecute liberal sympathizers of the Republican government. “Daniel Da Barca” (Tristan Ulloa), a charismatic young psychiatrist and advocate of women’s right to vote, is detained in Santiago de Compostela. The informant for his detention is the policeman Herbal, who follows Da Barca and his girlfriend, “Marisa Mallo” (María Adánez), the daughter of “Don Beito” (Manuel Manquiña), a wealthy conservative unsettled by Marisa’s involvement with the leftist doctor. Herbal has admired Marisa since childhood, while he was son of a brutish tenant farmer on Don Beito’s estate. Herbal’s fascination with the glamour of Marisa and Da Barca’s courtship borders on obsession. In the prison where he is appointed guard, his fascination continues as he listens to the conversations Da Barca maintains with other inmates, some of them members of the politicized working class who share the ideals of the liberal professional and intellectuals also imprisoned there. Among them is an artist (Carlos Blanco Vila) who tells beautiful stories in the Galician tradition of storytelling, and makes drawings with the pencil that Herbal later keeps after he participates in the man’s execution. Herbal secretly protects Da Barca from being shot in the spontaneous executions carried out at night by fanatic rightists, like “Zalo” (Nancho Novo), Herbal’s brother-in-law by marriage to his sister “Beatriz” (María Pujalte). The plot alternates between the activity in the prison and the efforts to negotiate Da Barca’s release by a desperate Marisa at her father’s noble house, while he entertains members of the military and the Church. Herbal is in charge of prisoners as they are transferred to a penitentiary in A Coruña. There, Da Barca is appointed to serve in the infirmary and leads peaceful acts to protest the prison’s poor diet and the forced attendance at religious services, at which the victories of the Franco-led army are announced and celebrated. Da Barca asks Marisa to abandon her efforts and to stop her visits, and she attempts suicide. After a long recovery due to the last attempt by Zalo to kill Da Barca, which is once again prevented by Herbal’s intervention, the doctor is brought to trial and sentenced to death. He escapes this fate when a law is issued that demands the extradition of prisoners of Mexican citizenship, which happens to be Da Barca’s case. He and Marisa get married, but plans to move to Mexico are frustrated when Da Barca is caught sneaking a radio set into the prison. He is sent to serve a life sentence at the penitentiary on the island of San Simón, where conditions are notoriously harsh. Before that, the couple is able to spend a night together in a hotel. Herbal kills Zalo while defending his sister from his abusive treatment. In the final sequence, the film returns to the present, where Herbal, who served time in prison for the murder of Zalo, wraps up his story: Da Barca’s

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resilience in San Simón, from where he is eventually liberated to gain exile in Mexico along with Marisa, and their return after Franco’s death to Galicia, where he is able to resume his work as a doctor. After marking the newspaper obituary announcing the doctor’s death, Herbal collapses and dies outside the brothel, his last thoughts being blurred images from his harsh childhood. The pencil becomes a symbolic object not only of a past experience that has been narrated but also of the endurance of ideology. As the old pencil is passed to the immigrant prostitute, who keeps it after listening to Herbal’s story, there is the insinuation of continuity in the unresolved struggle for social change presented as frustrated in the context of the Second Republic. As in previous works of adaptation of Rivas’s stories, history as a recent past of conflict and violence is explored in El lápiz del carpintero through the figure of the liberal intellectual not only as a hero and as an agent for social advancement but also by contrasting his idealism with other more obscure forces that condition the human behaviors, values, and emotions shaped by tradition and class. See also La lengua de las mariposas (Butterfly’s Tongue) Bibliography Rivas, Manuel. El lápiz del carpintero. Madrid: Alfaguara, 1998.

—Elena Cueto Asín

LÁZARO DE TORMES (LAZARO OF TORMES) (2001) Directors: Fernando Fernán-Gómez and José Luis García Sánchez Screenplay: Fernando Fernán-Gómez, based on a novel by an anonymous author Specs: 88 minutes; color Lázaro de Tormes is a 2001 film directed by Fernando Fernán-Gómez and José Luis García Sánchez. It won Best Screenplay Adaptation and Best Costume Design at the Goya Awards. The film is an adaptation of the classical Spanish novel Vida de Lazarillo de Tormes y de sus fortunas y adversidades, known in English as The Life of Lazarillo de Tormes and of His Fortunes and Adversities, written in 1554 by an unknown author. The book is known for its sharp criticism against the society of mid-16th-century Spain, particularly the ironies of class associated with differing clergy and the lower ranks of the nobility. Telling of this point, this book was banned alongside several hundred others in the Forbidden Books’ Index during the Spanish Inquisition. In fact, the full version of the story was not published again in Spain until the 19th century. The plot of the film revolves around the appearance in court of “Lázaro” (Rafael Álvarez, also known as “El Brujo”), after being accused of consenting to his wife’s marital infidelity, a situation considered a criminal offense. To defend himself, in the trial presided over by Toledo’s mayor (Juan Luis Galiardo), Lázaro explains his life, interspersing his statement with flashbacks and flashforwards to describe the miseries and misfortunes he suffers during his life in the service of several masters. He starts his account relating his experiences serving a friar named “Fray Gabriel” (Emilio Laguna) upon his arrival in Toledo. Fray Gabriel

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is very fond of good food and nobility’s social events and is more interested in socializing with wealthy people than attending to his obligations to the community. Although Lázaro feels comfortable with the friar, he runs away from him when the friar tries to kiss him, revealing his sexual appetite. Shocked, Lázaro enters a tavern, where he meets “Machuca” (Agustín González), the former city/ town-crier who was fired for frequently performing his job absolutely drunk. He tells Lázaro about a job as a water carrier he just quit because the salary is measly, and explains to whom he has to talk to secure the position. Lázaro takes the job and delivers water with a donkey for a time until he meets an archpriest (Karra Elejalde) in a tavern. The archpriest runs a wine business and offers Lázaro work as a wine hawker. He accepts and starts selling wines all around the region. At that point, Lázaro arrives at a small town, where he relays to a small audience some of the humorous situations from his past life. In a flashback, several scenes show a little Lázaro (Manuel Lozano) dealing with his first master, a heartless blind beggar (Paco Rabal) who treats Lázaro with cruelty until the day he can escape from him. Lázaro wishes to thrive, so after some time working for the archpriest, he asks for permission to combine his current job with a position as a town-crier, begging for the help of the archpriest to arrange it. However, the archpriest tells Lázaro that to perform this task it is necessary to be married, but he promises to help him if he promises to marry as soon as he can. Lázaro accepts, and once he starts serving in the new job, the archpriest reminds Lázaro of the promise he made and introduces him to “Teresa” (Beatriz Rico), a young girl with whom the archpriest has a secret relationship, cunningly suggesting that she could be a perfect wife. Nonetheless, Lázaro and Teresa marry and move to a small house next the archpriest’s church. Sometime later, Lázaro is arrested. After showing another flashback to Lázaro’s childhood under the guidance of his second master, a stingy clergyman (José Lifante) who starves, beats, and banishes Lázaro from the village when he discovers Lázaro had stolen some of his food, the story comes back to the opening scene of the trial. Lázaro asserts that after all his sufferings he finally was able to prosper successfully, and for that reason, an envious person must have made a false testimony about him. He says that, in a peculiar way, accepting his wife’s infidelity allowed him to flourish and leave behind the misery in which he had always lived. When it appears that Lázaro is going to be condemned, a king’s messenger arrives, carrying an official communiqué in which the king announces he will soon attend a celebratory assembly there and that all arrested people in Toledo will receive a pardon to commemorate this event. At that moment, Lázaro is freed. Despite several differences between the movie and the book, this adaptation keeps the social criticism of the original novel while showcasing the hypocrisy, dishonesty, and false values of the society of the times—especially concerning the members of the church who acted with such absolute impunity. See also La Celestina (Celestina); Fernando Fernán-Gómez (Appendix A) —Alex Pinar

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LA LENGUA DE LAS MARIPOSAS (BUTTERFLY’S TONGUE) (1999) Director: José Luis Cuerda Screenplay: José Luis Cuerda, Rafael Azcona, and Manuel Rivas, based on the short stories from the book ¿Que me quieres, amor? by Manuel Rivas Specs: 97 minutes; color La lengua de las mariposas (1999), titled Butterfly’s Tongue in English, is a film adaptation of the short story of the same name from a collection of sixteen pieces in the book ¿Que me quieres, amor? (1995) (What Do You Want with Me, Love?), written by Manuel Rivas. The film is based on the second story of the collection, but it also weaves in two other stories from the same compendium: “Un saxo en la niebla” (“A Saxophone in the Mist”) and “Carmiña.” The director, José Luis Cuerda, filmed the movie in a rural area of Galicia, Spain. One of the most renowned actors of Spanish cinema, Fernando FernánGómez, is cast as the schoolmaster “Don Gregorio,” and a child actor, Manuel Lozano—nine years old at the time—as “Moncho.” “Rosa” and “Ramón,” Moncho’s parents, are played by the actors Uxía Blanco and Gonzalo Martín Uriarte, respectively. His brother, “Andrés,” is portrayed by Alexis de los Santos. It is worth noting that the Academy Award–winning director Alejandro Amenábar composed the music for the film. The book and film received several awards and were highly acclaimed by readers, critics, and audiences. The film was nominated for 13 Goya Awards and received the award for Best Adapted Screenplay. The book received the Premio Nacional de Narrativa and the Premio Torrente Ballester, among others. The film tells the story of a nascent friendship between a student and a schoolmaster. While it is in itself a warm and endearing portrait, violence is threaded throughout, foreshadowing the fateful end. The violence—students fighting and the killing of a dog—reflects the period in which the film takes place: the Second Republic of Spain and the beginning of the Spanish Civil War. Two key events occur in the film—the anniversary of the Second Republic, April 14, 1936, and the proclamation of a state of war, July 17, 1936. These are, however, filtered and remain essentially in the background as setting for the story. We do know the political leanings of several of the adult characters: Don Gregorio (liberal Republican), Ramón (liberal Republican), Rosa (traditionalist), and a wealthy and powerful man of the village (Franco’s supporter). Only at the very end of the film do political antagonisms and hatred overwhelm the characters and their political positions become fatefully relevant; Franco’s troops prevail and his opponents are arrested, among them Don Gregorio. The plot of the film revolves around Don Gregorio and Moncho, also called Sparrow. Moncho suffers from severe asthma and because of his illness, he is late in starting school. Moncho is frightened, and it is up to Don Gregorio to set the boy’s mind at ease, which he does with understanding and respect. Out of gratitude for Don Gregorio’s treatment of his son, Moncho’s father—the tailor Don Ramón—makes a suit for Don Gregorio. The relationship between Moncho and Don Gregorio grows, and when the schoolmaster’s age of retirement arrives, it is a sad day for Moncho, who dreads the loss of his mentor and friend. Don

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Gregorio, a widower living alone, reassures him with promises of spending more, not less, time with him in their excursions into the fields and forests surrounding the village. They even speak of using the microscope to see the tongue of the butterflies—hence the film’s title. The happy relationship between Moncho and Don Gregorio cannot last when political events erupt. The Republicans are dragged from their homes and incarcerated. In the final moments of the film, the prisoners are paraded in front of the villagers, who excoriate their former friends and neighbors with screams of “atheist,” “red,” and “traitor,” lest they also be branded as Republicans and presented with similar ends. One after another, the doomed prisoners take their places in the truck that will carry them to their deaths. As fate would have it, Don Gregorio is the last man to begin that final march. The villagers throw their insults at him; Rosa urges her family to join in to prove their allegiance to the new political order. Ramón must shout the loudest to clearly forswear his Republican allegiance and save his own life. Moncho, pressured by the multitude, ultimately joins in the chants, hurling, “atheist,” “red,” and “tilonorrinco, espiritrompa” at his friend. The story has been adapted in the film with some changes. In the story, the child is six years old, not nine; in addition, his best friend is Dombodán, not Roque. Cuerda includes two other stories: the story of Andrés (Moncho’s brother in the film) and the story of Carmiña (Moncho’s stepsister). In the former, Andrés plays the saxophone with the Orchestra Blue. One Sunday, Andrés and the orchestra play in a small town called Santa Marta Lombás. The musicians are housed with the villagers. Andrés stays at the house of the mayor, who lives with a Chinese girl. She is much younger than the mayor; therefore, Andrés thinks she is his daughter. Nevertheless, the mayor soon reveals that she is his wife. Andrés is attracted to the girl, but any real relationship between them is impossible and he ultimately leaves in disappointment. In the other story, the villager O’Lis has sexual encounters with Carmiña, who lives with her aunt and her dog, Tarzan, in a secluded area on the outskirts of the town. O’Lis, annoyed by the dog who continually interrupts his sex with Carmiña, returns one night and brutally kills the dog. To conclude, the themes of the story and the film concur: education, friendship, freedom, and, in the end, betrayal. See also El lápiz del carpintero (The Carpenter’s Pencil) —Conxita Domènech

LA LEY DEL DESEO (LAW OF DESIRE) (1987) Director: Pedro Almodóvar Screenplay: Pedro Almodóvar Specs: 102 minutes; color La ley del deseo is a 1987 film directed by Pedro Almodóvar. The film follows the romantic relations of a successful and egotistical gay filmmaker whose life takes a dramatic and, later, tragic turn when he takes an obsessive lover. The film was nominated for and won numerous awards. It won the “Teddy” for Best Feature Film at the 1987 Berlin International Film Festival, Best Director and

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Eusebio Poncela and Antonio Banderas. Cinevista / Photofest © Cinevista

Best Screenplay at the Bogota Film Festival in 1988, Best Film at Fotogramas de Plata in 1988, and the audience award for Best Feature at the San Francisco International Lesbian and Gay Film Festival in 1987. The film opens with a glimpse into the life of “Pablo Quintero” (Eusebio Poncela), a successful and highly sought-after filmmaker. We are introduced to his lover, “Juan Bermúdez” (Miguel Molina), whom we learn has a complicated and slightly tortured relationship with Pablo. Juan leaves for the coast because it will be easier for Pablo to get over his feelings for him. Pablo offers his transgendered sister, “Tina Quintero” (Carmen Maura), a struggling actor, a role in his latest film. After a screening of one of Pablo’s films, “Antonio Benítez” (Antonio Banderas) introduces himself to Pablo as he passes by him in an arcade. Antonio accompanies Pablo back to his apartment, where they engage in passionate lovemaking. In the morning, Antonio discovers a love letter written by Juan and leaves an angry letter for Pablo on his desk. Nevertheless, it is clear that Antonio has fallen deeply for Pablo. Antonio later returns to Pablo’s apartment to continue intimate relations and fix long-standing issues with the lighting and paint in the apartment. Pablo attempts to end his tryst with Antonio. However, Antonio has quickly become very possessive and controlling, which has made Pablo uncomfortable and their separation difficult to accomplish. “Ada” (Bibí Andersen), Tina’s lover, comes back from a trip to ask “Ada” (Manuela Velasco), her daughter of the same name, to move to Milan with her. Her daughter won’t hear of it; she tells her mother she would rather stay with

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Tina. While doing lines of cocaine at a restaurant, Pablo tells Tina that he has written his next leading role to be played by her. However, she becomes enraged when Pablo tells her that the role has been inspired by Tina’s real-life difficulty with romantic relationships to men. Pablo receives back-to-back calls from Juan and then from Antonio. Juan tells Pablo that he misses him and asks for him to visit, while Antonio demands that Pablo visit him. Pablo writes a letter to Antonio telling him that he doesn’t love him and that he will instead be traveling to visit Juan, whom he still loves. Antonio travels to visit Juan and misleads him. Antonio tells Juan that Pablo does not want to see him, and that he is not coming to visit. Juan and Antonio walk to a lighthouse on a cliff overlooking the ocean. There, Antonio sexually assaults Juan and then throws him from the cliff when he does not reciprocate the aggressive sexual advance. When Pablo arrives to visit Juan, he finds him dead, lying in rest, surrounded by friends who are mourning his loss. The police suspect Pablo to be Juan’s killer after they find the ripped off pocket of a shirt owned by both Pablo and Antonio washed up on the beach near the cliff. Pablo visits Antonio at his home and when confronted, Antonio admits to the murder. The police show up at Antonio’s home as Pablo speeds away after having bitten Antonio out of anger. The police then question Antonio’s mother, who provides an alibi for her son. Pablo, distracted and traumatized by what has occurred, crashes into a tree while driving through the countryside. The doctor at the hospital advises Tina to clear Pablo’s house of anything suspicious or illegal, arguing that despite his innocence, the police will be relentless. She arrives too late at Pablo’s home. The police are there and have matched the letter taken from Antonio to the typewriter in his home. Pablo awakens from his accident suffering from amnesia. He has no recollection of any memories, including his own name. The doctor protects him from the police, who wish to interrogate him. Tina visits Pablo at the hospital while Pablo is recovering. She admits to him that she was the reason their parents separated. Tina was carrying on a sexual relationship with their father and was caught by their mother in the act. Tina moved to Morocco to live with their father until he left her for another woman. It was because of this that Tina could never be with another man. Tina visits her brother again at the hospital, she tells him that she has met a man, and Pablo in turn reveals that he has recovered his memory. However, he wishes to keep this a secret. Pablo breaks with his act of being an amnesiac when the police inform him that his sister is seeing Antonio. Pablo calls his sister, who is with Antonio, to tell her that she is in grave danger. In order to provide herself cover for the phone call, Tina tells Antonio that it was a call from the hospital to inform her that Pablo has killed himself. Antonio realizes that this is a ruse and prevents Tina from leaving the apartment. Young Ada manages to escape and summons the help of a policeman. The policeman is knocked unconscious by Antonio as he enters the apartment. More police arrive with Pablo. Antonio, now armed with the gun of the policeman, has bound Tina and taken her hostage. Antonio demands that Pablo come up to the apartment and Pablo agrees. Once Pablo is in the apartment, Antonio unties Tina, resuscitates the police officer, and then allows them to leave. Antonio yells down to the police that he wants an hour

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to negotiate with Pablo or else he will kill him. The police agree to his demand. Antonio embraces Pablo romantically and carries him to the bedroom, where he undresses himself and Pablo, after which it is presumed they make love. Antonio leaves the bedroom, then abruptly and without warning, kills himself. See also Victoria Abril (Appendix A); Pedro Almodóvar (Appendix A); Carne trémula (Live Flesh); La flor de mi secreto (The Flower of My Secret); Carmen Maura; Mujeres al borde de un ataque de nervios (Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown); ¿Qué he hecho yo para merecer esto? (What Have I Done to Deserve This?); Tacones lejanos (High Heels) —Emil Marmol

LIBERTARIAS (FREEDOM FIGHTERS) (1996) Director: Vicente Aranda Screenplay: Vicente Aranda and Antonio Rabinad Specs: 131 minutes; color Vicente Aranda’s film Libertarias (1996), an adaptation of Antonio Rabinad’s novel La monja libertaria (1985), is an ambitious project that was in the planning stages for more than 10 years. Aranda created this film with the aim to recuperate the historical memory of those who lost the Spanish Civil War (1936–1939). More precisely, Libertarias is an homage to the libertarian utopia and the revolutionary dream of Mujeres Libres (Free Women), an anarchist association created in 1936 with the primary goal of emancipating industrial and farming proletariat women, not only as workers, but also as women. Mujeres Libres tried to empower working women through education and active participation in the public sector. In order to achieve this goal, they directed their efforts to concrete social tasks, such as the eradication of prostitution and illiteracy. In spite of its identification with anarchist ideals, Mujeres Libres was relegated to a marginal position within the libertarian movement. It is this marginality that explains their almost total exclusion from history books and also what gives more significance to Aranda’s attempt to rescue their memory and their role in the Spanish Civil War. The film is set in Barcelona (Catalonia) and the Aragón region during the first months of the war. It tells the story of a group of anarchist militia women who head to the front to join the Republican forces: “Floren” (Victoria Abril) is a medium who believes that Jesus is a woman and God is a fascist; “Aura” (Blanca Apilánez), the intellectual of the group, expresses the ideological background and the libertarian approach to women’s liberation; “Pilar” (Ana Belén), a weaver by trade, translates such ideals into practical matters; “Charo” (Loles León) is the hooker with a heart of gold; finally, “María” (Ariadna Gil) is a nun who connects Bakunin’s ideas to Bible teachings. The disagreement among Republicans on the role that women were supposed to play in the war is presented covertly throughout the movie and explicitly in a meeting held by anarchist women where two main positions are confronted. On one hand, some insist that their primary goal should be to help men win the war; therefore, women should serve in the rear guard and postpone their feminist claims. On the other hand, those who believe

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Ana Belén, Blanca Apilánez, and Ariadna Gil. Sogepaq Distribución / Photofest © Sogepaq Distribución

that the two revolutions should go hand in hand maintain that women’s active participation in the war front is essential. The historical outcome of this confrontation is well known; the leader of the anarchist militias, Buenaventura Durruti, who is ready to sacrifice everything except victory, takes forceful and radical measures to demand the retreat of all women from the trenches. Feeling betrayed and belittled, the protagonists do not have any other choice but to follow orders. The movie ends in the gloomiest mood, presenting harsh, gory scenes of Franco’s Moorish troops raping and murdering this group of women. The importance of Libertarias relies on the fact that this is the first feature film that tries to recuperate the historical memory of Mujeres Libres. However, Aranda does it by creating a heroic tale that is only loosely based on historical facts. For example, the film glorifies the role of women as fighters and neglects the important educational, activist, and rear-guard roles of this association. Furthermore, the predominantly nostalgic vision of anarchism and the strongly melodramatic and sentimental component of the film undermine its political message. Despite using the names of several of Mujeres Libres’ most active militants, the film is not inspired by the life of any one of them. In fact, in an attempt to validate the work of these anarchist women, the film distorts their historical roles. The viewer who is not familiar with the complexity of the situation and the real role of Mujeres Libres in the war will leave the theater with the false impression that their crucial participation was at the front, when in fact their real contribution was as the rear guard. Possibly the most paradoxical aspect of this film is its attempt to join a fictitious and sometimes unlikely plot with real people and historical documents. In this respect, it is no coincidence that three of the four Mujeres Libres fight-

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ers bear the names of representatives of the organization. In addition, the script includes fragments of documents, newspaper articles, and pamphlets that are incorporated into the fiction in a somewhat anachronistic fashion. This attempt to legitimize its historical discourse is apparent from the first images (reconstructed black-and-white archival footage) that serve as a backdrop to the opening credits. Aranda attempts to create an epic film based on historical facts, but he relies on too many components (comedy, tragedy, historical drama, action) that are incompatible with the epic narrative. He also adds several morbid and grotesque scenes that are closer to gore or esperpento than epic aesthetics. Another problematic element is the way the film presents its feminist message. Aranda reinforces some of the stereotypes of patriarchal ideology even while attempting to criticize them. In this respect, the filmic representations of the nun (who succumbs to martyrdom) and the prostitutes (who defiantly urinate on the clinic floor) as prototypes of women who convert to anarchism reaffirm rather than destroy the myths surrounding them. In addition, the burning of convents and the anticlerical emphasis reinforce the black legend associated with anarchism. Despite the fact that the film’s protagonists are a group of Mujeres Libres, Aranda’s narration has a great deal in common with the masculine narratives whose historical re-creations are shaped by heroic deeds and political and military events. See also Vicente Aranda (Appendix A); ¡Ay, Carmela! (Ay, Carmela!) Bibliography Ackelsberg, Martha A. Free Women of Spain: Anarchism and the Struggle for the Emancipation of Women. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1991. Gómez, María Asunción. “Feminism and Anarchism: Remembering the Role of Mujeres Libres in the Spanish Civil War.” In Recovering Spain’s Feminist Tradition, edited by Lisa Volendorf, 293–310. New York: Modern Language Association of America, 2001. Mangini, Shirley. Memories of Resistance: Women’s Voices from the Spanish Civil War. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1995.

—María Asunción Gómez

LOPE (LOPE: THE OUTLAW) (2010) Director: Andrucha Waddington Screenplay: Jordi Gasull and Ignacio del Moral Specs: 106 minutes; color Lope is a 2010 film directed by Brazilian Andrucha Waddington. The film is a coproduction between Spain and Brazil, inspired by the youth of Lope de Vega, the Spanish novelist, playwright, and poet from the Golden Age. It is set in the year 1588, when young Lope is a soldier who has just arrived in Madrid from war. The city is still not the bustling capital of the kingdom but a town in construction. The intrepid youngster is undecided about the path he wants to follow in his life. At this time of doubt and uncertainty, he meets two women, who will present him two different options: either to pursue his professional career with the support of a successful and liberal businesswoman in the field of theater, or

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to enter the political sphere and the network at the court with the help of an aristocrat who ends up being his true love. The film received great reviews by the crities. As a result, it got multiple nominations, including one for Best Sound (Rodrigo de Noronha) at the ABC Cinematography Awards in 2012; Best Director, Best Cinematography (Ricardo Della Rosa), Best Art Direction (Carlos Bodelón, César Macarrón, and Lilly Kilvert), Best Costume Design (Tatiana Hernández), and Best Visual Effects (Claudio Peralta and Marcelo Siqueira) at the Cinema Brazil Grand Prizes in 2012; Best Actress (Leonor Watling), Best Actor (Alberto Ammann), and Best Score (Fernando Velázquez) at the Cinema Writers Circle Awards in Spain in 2011; Best Costume Design and Best Makeup and Hairstyles (Martín Macías Trujillo, Karmele Soler, and Paco Rodríguez H.) at the Gaudí Awards in 2011; Best Supporting Actress (Pilar López de Ayala), Best Special Effects (Raúl Romanillos and Marcelo Siqueira), Best Production Manager (Edmon Roch and Toni Novella), Best Production Design (César Macarrón), and Best Makeup and Hairstyles at the Goya Awards in 2011; Best Picture (Toro Pictures, Ikiru Films, Antena 3 Films, and Conspiração Filmes) at the José María Forqué Awards in 2011; Best Film, Best Supporting Actress (Sonia Braga), Best Director, and Best Cinematography at the Prêmio Contigo Cinema in Brazil in 2011; and Best Performance in a Minor Role—Male (Juan Diego) at the Spanish Actors Union in 2011. Apart from these recognitions, the film won the awards for Best Original Song (Jorge Drexler) and Best Costume Design at the Goya Awards in 2011; Best Actress (Pilar López de Ayala) at the Premios ACE in 2012; and Best Performance in Minor Role—Female (Pilar López de Ayala) and Best Performance in a Minor Role—Male (Antonio de la Torre) at the Spanish Actors Union in 2011. The film starts with the return of “Lope de Vega” (Alberto Ammann) to Spain after fighting in the battle of Ponta Delgada (1582) in the War of the Azores (1580–1583) in the context of the Spanish annexation of Portugal after nine years of absence. The youngster has doubts about taking religious orders under the recommendation of “Frai Bernardo” (Luis Tosar), but the death of his mother pushes him to look for different, and more lucrative, alternatives to support his family and bury his parent. He rejects the proposal of his brother “Juan de Vega” (Antonio de la Torre) to join his battalion in Lisbon, as he aspires to enjoy the privileges and comfort of the Spanish court and the company of women. Indeed, upon his return, an old passion for “Isabel de Urbina” (Leonor Watling) brings back past memories and an interest in the damsel of noble descent in his neighborhood. Soon the film attracts the attention of the spectator to the world of theater and playwriting. The dramaturge begins to attend the performances of several spectacles in the corrales in order to get inspired to write his own. One day he decides to look for a job at the theatrical company of “Jerónimo Velázquez” (Juan Diego), but he is rejected. Thanks to the intercession of Jerónimo’s daughter and famous actor “Elena Osorio” (Pilar López de Ayala), he is assigned the copying of a play of another author. Lope accepts the assignment, but instead of following the instructions of his employer, he modifies and improves the original—namely, La Numancia (1585) by Miguel de Cervantes. In his opinion, characters should imitate the language of the common people, instead of emulating the classicist

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style of the Greeks and the Romans. There should be a sophisticated stage with special effects and machinery, and the action of the plot should evolve fast, often changing the location of the events. These ideas will be part of his treatise entitled Arte nuevo de hacer comedias en este tiempo (The New Art of Composing Theatrical Plays at this Time, 1609), which was his artistic manifesto that broke the neoclassical three unities of place, time, and action. These new ideas and dramatic technique revolutionized the stage and were well received by the audience. Jerónimo Velázquez decides to give the playwright a chance and performs one of Lope’s inventions in the end. The film also portrays the polished quality of the poetry of Lope. Most of his poetic compositions are acquired in secret by the Portuguese “Marquis de Navas” (Selton Mello) in order to woo Isabel de Urbina. However, Lope starts to feel attracted to the acquaintance of his youth. In a celebration in the countryside organized by the aristocrat, the poet shows his talent in front of the courtesans and “Tomás de Perrenot” (Miguel Ángel Muñoz) by reciting his famous poem “Un soneto me manda hacer Violante” (“Violante Commands Me to Compose a Sonnet”). This display infatuates Isabel, who realizes that the true author of the poems she receives is her friend. At this moment, this love affair gets complicated as Elena Osorio gets jealous of the playwright’s relationship with the noblewoman, with whom she competes as the muse of the poet, as his beloved Filis. As for the marquis, he wants to avenge his abandonment by his potential fiancée and his public humiliation in the hands of the poor poet. Lope’s situation gets even worse when he publicly reads some verses accusing Jerónimo Velázquez of selling the love of his daughter and arranging her marriage with the richest bidder, right after the performance of his famous comedy El nuevo mundo descubierto por Cristóbal Colón (The New World Discovered by Christopher Columbus, 1614). In an attempt to arrest the offender, the theater and corral of the businessman is set on fire and reduced to ashes. Lope’s only solution is to escape and board a boat that will take him to America. He travels to Lisbon with the 16-year-old Isabel de Urbina, who is now pregnant, and embarks in one of the vessels in the fleet of his brother. However, there is an order of arrest against him for abducting the damsel. He is captured on the coast before he is able to leave the Portuguese shore. Defeated, he is brought back to Madrid chained to a cart in order to be put on trial for the kidnapping of the lady. The poet escapes life imprisonment and the death penalty, but he is sentenced to eight years of exile from the kingdom of Castile, to which he is not allowed to return or else he will be put to death. This judiciary episode in the life of the playwright is known to be based on the historical account of the adventures and misfortunes of Lope de Vega by his biographers. However, there are some differences with the version provided in the movie. Thus, in the film the Urbina family does not agree to the marriage of the two lovers. This is evidence of some artistic freedom and directing choices made by the director. In this sense, Golden Age scholars do not defend the hypothesis that Lope improved Cervantes’s playbook of La Numancia to be staged by the company of Jerónimo Velázquez, as suggested in the film, either. In fact, both Lope and Cervantes competed to reign in the corrales de comedias. Unfortunately for the author of Don Quixote, the younger playwright had learned to

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compose plays for the taste of the Everyman, not just for the intellectual and educated elite of the time. See also El caballero Don Quijote (Don Quixote, Knight Errant) Bibliography Rennert, Hugo Albert. The Life of Lope de Vega (1562–1635). New York: G. E. Stechert, 1937. Samson, Alexander, and Jonathan Thacker. A Companion to Lope de Vega. Rochester, NY: Tamesis, 2008. Vega, Lope de. Arte nuevo de hacer comedias. Edited by Enrique García Santo-Tomás. Madrid: Cátedra, 2006.

—Jorge Abril Sánchez

LUCÍA Y EL SEXO (SEX AND LUCIA) (2001) Director: Julio Medem Screenplay: Julio Medem Specs: 128 minutes; color Lucía y el sexo is a 2001 film directed by Julio Medem. The film follows the lives and relationships of several characters, including “Lucía” (Paz Vega), her boyfriend “Lorenzo” (Tristán Ulloa), and his ex-lover “Elena” (Najwa Nimri), over a period of six years. It won several awards, including the Audience Award for Best Spanish Film at the 2002 Turia Awards, as well as the Best New Actress award for Paz Vega and the award for Best Original Score for composer Alberto Iglesias at the 2002 Goya Awards. The plot of the film is divided into two interweaving sections: “Lucía,” which takes place in the present day, and “El Sexo/Sex,” which begins six years earlier and gradually connects to the “Lucía” section. As the plot depicts Lorenzo in the process of writing a novel, it is often difficult to ascertain which scenes are “real” and which are part of Lorenzo’s fictional world. In the “Lucía” section, Lucía runs away to a mysterious island after receiving a phone call that leads her to believe that her troubled boyfriend, Lorenzo, is dead. There she meets an attractive scuba diver named “Carlos” (Daniel Freire) and Elena, who runs a guesthouse on the island. Meanwhile, in the “El Sexo/Sex” section, Lorenzo has passionate sex with a nameless stranger. Later, the woman, Elena, discovers that she is pregnant and moves to Madrid, where she raises her child. Lorenzo meets Lucía in a bar and she tells him that she is obsessed with him and that she wants to move in with him; he accepts her proposition and they have a series of passionate encounters. Lorenzo discovers that he has a daughter with Elena named “Luna” (Silvia Llanos); he begins visiting a playground to see her and converses with her babysitter, “Belén” (Elena Anaya), a woman caught in an erotic triangle with her ex-porn-star mother and her mother’s boyfriend. Lorenzo commences writing a novel incorporating his own experiences as fact and fiction become increasingly blurred. Belén invites Lorenzo to Elena’s house while she is babysitting Luna, but while they are having sex in Elena’s bedroom the family dog attacks and

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Paz Vega. Palm Pictures / Photofest © Palm Pictures

kills Luna. Lorenzo withdraws into a deep depression and becomes distanced from Lucía, while his novel about Belén, her mother, and her mother’s boyfriend becomes increasingly sordid. Online and using a pseudonym, he begins talking to Elena, now living on the island, and writes her a story to console her; the main advantage of the story is that it has a hole at the end, through which one can return to the middle of the story and create a different ending. As the past progresses into the present, Lorenzo concludes his novel with the suicides of Belén and her mother. On the island, Lucía and Elena discover that Carlos is wanted by the police. They confront Carlos and follow him after he flees from the guesthouse, and Lucía admits to Elena that she has feelings for him. Meanwhile, in Madrid, Lorenzo wakes up from a coma after his accident, and he and his agent “Pepe” (Javier Cámara) travel to the island to find Lucía. Elena meets Lorenzo and they embrace; Lucía and Elena then follow Carlos to the beach, but he has disappeared. They return to the guesthouse, where Lucía is reunited with Lorenzo. At the end of the film, the viewer is told that this story too has a hole through which to escape back to the middle. The audience is taken back to the middle of the film, where Elena takes a picture of Luna in the street while Lorenzo and Lucía embrace in their apartment above. This surrealistic film portrays various, often explicit expressions of sex and desire, but, is also concerned with the concept of love, including the love between boyfriend and girlfriend and parent and child. It contains many allusions to the sun and moon; the moon is particularly linked to Luna, whose name trans-

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lates as “moon,” while Lucía’s name is related to the Spanish word lucir, meaning “to shine.” The unnamed island is central to the film and almost all of the main characters flee there in order to escape their pasts; it is described as rootless and free-floating, and the waters that surround it are symbolic of cleansing and rebirth. Holes are also important symbols; the island is described as being full of holes, and both Lorenzo’s story to Elena and the film itself contain holes through which to escape and reimagine the story. See also Los amantes del círculo polar (The Lovers of the Arctic Circle); La ardilla roja (The Red Squirrel); Habitación en Roma (Room in Rome); Tierra (Earth) —Laura Birkin

LUNA DE LOBOS (WOLVES’ MOON) (1987) Director: Julio Sánchez Valdés Screenplay: Julio Llamazares and Julio Sánchez Valdés, based on a novel by Julio Llamazares Specs: 109 minutes; color Wolves’ Moon is a 1987 historical drama directed by Julio Sánchez Valdés. The film re-creates the story of a group of guerrilla fighters (“Maquis”) still in combat around the mountainous areas of northern Spain during the post–Civil War. It stars Santiago Ramos, Antonio Resines, Alvaro de Luna, and Kiti Manver in the main roles. The screenplay was cowritten by Julio Llamazares and Sánchez Valdés, based on the novel by the former published in 1985. The Maquis started fighting practically from the very beginning of the Civil War (1936–1939) when contingents of Republican militants separated from the government’s army and set up their own isolated groups of soldiers to fight in the rear guard. Their story has been one about silence and oblivion. This is a relatively new topic in Spain’s recent history that a few historians, writers, and film directors started to visit during the first 20 years of democracy. Wolves’ Moon is not the only film that revolves around the anti-Franco resistance filmed during democratic times. The most significant ones are Mario Camus’s Days of the Past (1977), The Heart of the Forest (1985) by Manuel Gutiérrez Aragón, Huidos (1992) by director and actor Félix Sancho Gracia, Gonzalo Suárez’s El portero (2000), Silencio roto (2001) by Montxo Armendáriz, and Pan’s Labyrinth (2006) by Guillermo del Toro. These directors use the story of the Maquis as relevant narrative material to recover the silenced and hidden past of the Civil War. However, we can find two films as far back as the mid1950s and early 1960s that represent guerrilla activity throughout Spain as a social scourge. One is Torrepartida (1956) by Pedro Lazaga, and the second, by Argentinean director Leon Klimovsky, is La paz empieza nunca (1960), based on the acclaimed novel by Emilio Romero. The Maquis are portrayed following the state’s propaganda as criminals that are causing widespread terror in the rural areas, impeding peace and prosperity in Spain. The terms bandolero or bandido (thief or desperado in English) are widely used to characterize the armed opposition to Franco’s authoritarian government.

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Wolves’ Moon opens up in the autumn of 1937 when a small group of Republican guerrilla fighters are combating Franco’s armed forces in the Cantabrian Mountains. The group of three protagonists is captained by Ramiro Luna Robles, a miner and a man wanted by the government because of his Socialist past. Their resistance will extend from the conclusion of the Civil War well into the decade of the 1940s. The fighters hoped that the victory-bound allies would invade Spain in order to overthrow the neutral but pro-Axis government of Francisco Franco. The film shows not only the resistance of the Maquis against oppression but also the difficulties and suffering of their families caused by the constant reprisals by the Guardia Civil. Their relentless persecution of the fighters is something that the film clearly stresses. Also, any civilians suspected of collaborating with the resistance were jailed, tortured, or even killed. The brutality and cruelty of the Guardias are portrayed in many episodes abusing the basic human rights of the local population, like the ruthless torture of Ramiro’s sister. The film is also a tale about survival in an area extremely harsh to man. Nature is an unstoppable force unaffected by the circumstances surrounding the guerrilla fighters or the Guardia Civil. The protagonists became isolated and exposed to many years of living in the wilderness without proper food or medical attention. However, it is not a battle of man against nature since the main characters learn to respect, fear, and coexist with the elements and the brutal winter cold. The rules of nature are dominant, and men have to abide by them if they want to survive. The plot is an endless hunt along the magnificent mountains of León where the characters live and are hunted like wild animals. The wolves are an extended metaphor for the main characters applied to those who are constantly persecuted and harassed, forced to attack in order to survive. Their complete immersion in nature transforms them significantly, bringing a sort of interior knowledge and wisdom that contrast sharply with that of the “civilized” world. The most remarkable quality of the film is the vindication of the guerrilla fighters as a serious resistance to Franco’s authoritarian government. The open insurrection against Franco is something that they did not achieve, but their sacrifice and loss of life fighting for freedom is something that needs to be honored and told to the new generations of Spaniards. See also El Laberinto del fauno (Pan’s Labyrinth) —Agustín Otero

LOS LUNES AL SOL (MONDAYS IN THE SUN) (2002) Director: Fernando León de Aranoa Screenplay: Fernando León de Aranoa and Ignacio del Moral Specs: 113 minutes; color Set in postindustrial Vigo, Los lunes al sol (2002) offers a bleaker and more challenging view of Galicia than the romanticism we are accustomed to from directors such as José Luis Cuerda, and surely its importance echoes today in the wake of Spain’s economic crisis and spike in unemployment. It tells the unexpectedly harrowing stories of men made redundant after the closure of the shipyard that

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Fernando León de Aranoa and Javier Bardem. Lions Gate Films / Photofest © Lions Gate Films

was the anchor of their lives. “Santa” (Javier Bardem) leads the cast as a man struggling to adapt to an empty schedule he fills by babysitting, “José” (Luis Tosar) wrestles with the reality of his factory employee wife being the breadwinner, while “Amador” (Celso Bugallo) waits in vain for his absent wife to return. United in their marginalization, they navigate the changing social landscape, searching for purpose and a return to their eponymous days in the sun. The film opens on a boat as the main characters, made redundant from their jobs, travel together to a job interview for “Lino” (José Ángel Egido), which ends unsuccessfully. They subsequently fill their time drinking at the bar, while Santa enjoys the flirtatious attentions of 15-year-old “Nata” (Aída Folch). Santa is preparing to face a criminal charge for vandalizing a light, which he attempts to ignore by meeting and sleeping with women. He eventually takes on some of Nata’s babysitting work in a futile effort to regain his independence. José begins to have marital problems as his wife, “Ana” (Nieves de Medina), becomes the main earner, working in a tuna-canning factory under the lecherous gaze of her line manager. Amador has already been left by his own wife, whom he feebly claims will soon return from vacation; he lapses into alcoholism and commits suicide by jumping off his apartment building. The group gives him a dignified funeral, and Santa eventually decides to accept the police fine rather than risk a custodial sentence. However, as he leaves, he smashes the light once again, and the men end where they began, on the boat crossing the river. Winner of five Goya Awards and beating perennial favorite Almodóvar as Spain’s candidate for Best Foreign Language Film at the Oscars, Lunes has received significant international acclaim. Following the film’s release, director

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Fernando León de Aranoa has been hailed by some critics as the Spanish Ken Loach; perhaps, however, it is equally accurate to see him here as influenced by the British new wave of cinema. The sharp editing and grim setting, the social conflict over the working woman, and even the title are reminiscent of the precursor film to the new-wave It Always Rains on Sunday (Hamer, 1947) and the kitchen-sink-realism films it ushered in. The protagonists are seemingly scorned by society, underlined by Santa’s ongoing investigation for smashing a light, and spatially represented by their position on the margins while watching a football match. Stylistically, the film calls back to the working-class origins of social realism in Italian cinema but retains a distinctly Spanish flavor, including the establishing shots of Vigo and even a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it reference to Buñuel. Alfredo Mayo’s cinematography, poles apart from his earlier work as director of photography on Kika (Almodóvar, 1993), unassumingly but effectively frames the postindustrial setting, with dim lighting throughout contrasting the gray desolation of the urban scene with the men’s days in the sun. It eschews the popular mockumentary style of handheld cameras, instead using close-ups to lend the film a somewhat suffocating air and immersing the viewer in the lives of the protagonists. The film is not an easy one to watch, but despite pulling no punches when dealing with the men’s disenfranchisement, it also does not hesitate to play it for some comic effect. The film opens with footage of public rioting accompanied by tender instrumental music, while some of the sharper retorts from Nata, who refreshingly embodies a new generation of women, patronize Santa’s masculinity in an Electra complex power struggle. Meanwhile, “Serguei’s” (Serge Riaboukine) thwarted aspiration of becoming an astronaut and Santa’s dream of escaping to antipodal Australia are indicative of the empty banter that characterizes the dialogue. The film’s message is in itself not overly complex, but its simplicity leads to moments of poignancy. The range of performances from the ensemble cast quietly personalizes the theme of unemployment and avoids unnecessary moralizing. Tosar, later of Bollaín’s Te doy mis ojos (Take My Eyes, 2003), provides a human complexity as José, who steals a pair of heels to give to his wife. Subsequently, in a pivotal scene set at the bank, his unease and bitterness as his wife requests a loan drive home the film’s main theme: the reversal of gender roles and its effect on society. His sense of phallic insecurity is exacerbated by other men laughing at him; it is to the film’s credit that it does enough to make the characters outdated relics of a machista past and yet also sympathetic. Tragicomic in their emasculation, the audience are encouraged to pity characters such as Lino, whose attempts to stay relevant are doomed to failure, or Amador, whose storyline does not hold back in its depiction of a defeated man. Despite the performances of the ensemble cast, however, the film’s main focus is on Bardem, who delivers a passionate and persuasive performance as Santa. Adding depth to the character’s angry dialogue with his visually expressive closeups, he dominates the frame and creates a solid rapport with the viewer. Boasting a beard and a belly, his performative masculinity is played to the full, but in a way more similar to the male protagonists of destape cinema than his previous roles. Indeed, the men’s physical state is visually contrasted with the photos of

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muscled boxers on the walls of the bar, La Naval, harking back particularly to Bardem’s roles in the films of Bigas Luna. The importance of the bar itself in preserving the film’s homosocial aspect should not be underestimated, representing a male space that has not been reclaimed, although as critics have noted, an imperfect substitute for the home they lack. León de Aranoa expertly draws the viewer into this space, allowing us privileged access to a theme less commonly discussed in film. In summary, the film is a convincing depiction of unemployment, solidarity, and gender issues, and takes its place in the pantheon of social realist cinema. If it has been challenged, it is because its fundamental theme of unemployment and lack of purpose naturally leads to a lack of action or forward progress for the characters. It relies in large part on Bardem’s standout performance to keep it moving, and so may not appeal to the casual viewer. However, the film does provide an incisive and unrestrained commentary on the difficulties of some to adapt to our postindustrial economy and our postmodern and less-prescriptive societies. With a final scene that neatly ties the film together, on the boat aptly named Lady España, Lunes remains relevant today as a poignant depiction of a generation of men cast adrift on a current of social change. See also Javier Bardem (Appendix A); Barrio (Neighborhood); Fernando León de Aranoa (Appendix A); Te doy mis ojos (Take My Eyes); Luis Tosar (Appendix A) Bibliography Conn, Holohan. Cinema on the Periphery: Contemporary Irish and Spanish Film. Dublin: Irish Academic Press, 2010. Cornut-Gentille D’Arcy, Chantal. “Globalization from Down Below: Unemployment and Damaged Masculinities in The Full Monty (1997) and Mondays in the Sun (2002).” Studies in European Cinema 2, no. 2 (2005): 125–36.

—John Gilbert

1 •  M  • LA MADRE MUERTA (THE DEAD MOTHER) (1993) Director: Juanma Bajo Ulloa Screenplay: Juanma Bajo Ulloa and Eduardo Bajo Ulloa Specs: 112 minutes; color La madre muerta is the second (and often considered the finest) of Juanma Bajo Ulloa’s feature films. His debut was with Alas de mariposa, a dark story that represented his early recognition in the 1991 San Sebastián Film Festival. An offbeat gothic psychological thriller, La madre muerta is a curious analysis of crude situations and people in harsh scenarios. It tells an even darker tale that intertwines emotive drama, thrills, passion, and grim tragic events—all complemented with a colorful cinematography and a sensitive musical score. The film was nominated for four Goyas and won one (Best Special Effects). It also won prizes in several international festivals like Venice and Montreal, and soon achieved cult status among film buffs. During a bungled burglary, “Ismael” (Karra Elejalde), a petty criminal, shoots and kills the house owner, a painting restorer, and shoots her daughter as well, the now-dead mother’s daughter (ergo the film’s title). Years later, Ismael shares his violent life with “Maite” (played by the French singer Lio), who is deeply in love with him and tolerates his ill treatment. The chance re-encounter with the child, “Leire” (Ana Álvarez), now turned into a beautiful woman but mute and with the mental age of a child, will instill in the killer an obsessive feeling of insecurity and attraction that will raise tensions and change his life. With the help of his girlfriend, he kidnaps Leire and chains her to the bed in his house. He is unable to kill her, however, and instead asks the mental home where she has been confined for a ransom. Leire and Ismael grow closer and closer through his attempts to make her laugh and their mutual love for chocolate. Karra Elejalde, in his first leading role, embodies to perfection the role of the psychopath. He succeeds in humanizing his character by combining extreme violence and offbeat humor. Although he has a tortured, warped mind, he can also be childlike, as in a scene in which Leire stares at him expressionless as he plays the clown in an effort to make her smile. Ana Álvarez, also in her first leading role, avoids repetitive gesticulation; though she does not pronounce a single word throughout the film, she is able to speak through her eyes with an expressive and penetrating look. In order to prepare for her character, the actor spent several months in several psychiatric hospitals so as to make her acting as realistic as possible. Ismael discovers through Leire that, although a criminal, he also has a heart. Jealousy is present through Maite’s character, who encourages her boyfriend to get rid of the disabled Leire. Bajo Ulloa has a special talent for depicting the bizarre and the macabre, as well as for narrating dark stories in a suggestive and original way. For example, 252

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the film has a gloomy aura that evokes gothic tales (gray and black tones pervade most of the settings) while simultaneously conjuring one of the most famous fairy tales. In fact, La madre muerta has been described as a dreamy, Lynchian version of Little Red Riding Hood with a twist at the end: the evil here ends by being spiritually devoured by the innocent; Ismael’s obsession with Leire leads to his own self-destruction. The director himself has described the film as “cruel fairy tale for adults that narrates the same of all tales since ‘Little Red Riding Hood’: the contrast between innocence and brutality.” Bajo Ulloa has created a major work of art with this often-disturbing thriller, a stunning foray into the heart of darkness and its need for retribution. Although the film was well received in international film festivals, it flopped at the box office and was the object of harsh criticism in Spain, where many critics were unable to accept the film’s resistance to a symbolic reading or the absence of Basque references in the work of a young Basque filmmaker. Bajo Ulloa’s pose as enfant terrible and his rejection of the film establishment did not help either, but it may have contributed to the film becoming a cult classic. Bibliography Gómez, María Asunción. “On the Failure of Matricide: La madre muerta by Juanma Bajo Ulloa.” Cine y... 1, no. 1 (2008): 74–85. Labanyi, Jo. “Abjection, Trauma, and the Material Image.” In Burning Darkness: A HalfCentury of Spanish Cinema, edited by Joan Ramon et al., 143–60. Albany: State University of New York Press, 2008.

—Santiago Juan-Navarro

MAGICAL GIRL (MAGICAL GIRL) (2014) Director: Carlos Vermut Screenplay: Carlos Vermut Specs: 127 minutes; color Magical Girl is a 2014 film written and directed by Carlos Vermut. It tells the ill-fated story of an imaginative young girl who is terminally ill and her father’s desperate attempt to fulfill her fantasy. The film illustrates several aspects of daily life during Spain’s recent financial crisis. Magical Girl has been nominated for and won numerous awards, most notably winning the Best Actress award (Bárbara Lennie) in the 2015 Cinema Writers’ Circle Awards, Best Lead Actress (Bárbara Lennie) in the 2015 Goya Awards, and Best Film and Best Director awards (Carlos Vermut) in the San Sebastián International Film Festival in 2014. In the film, “Alicia” (Lucía Pollán) and her out-of-work father, “Luis” (Luis Bermejo), cope with her illness and financial struggle. Their lives tragically intertwine with that of upper-class “Bárbara” (Bárbara Lennie). The film opens with a flashback to an adolescent Bárbara (Marina Anduix) in school, being called out for passing a note during class. Her teacher (José Sacristán) reads the note aloud, and upon realizing that the note insults him, grills her about it in front of her classmates. She responds cheekily and “magically” makes the note disappear,

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Bárbara Lennie. Avalon / Photofest © Avalon

stunning her teacher—thus establishing Bárbara as mischievous, captivating, hurtful, and untrustworthy. The film then takes us to Alicia’s living room, where she dances alone to a Japanese song. She suddenly faints. Meanwhile, her father, Luis, attempts to sell some of his books and is shocked when the store attendant (Alberto Chaves) considers only a book’s weight and not its literary significance. He leaves upset and still retaining his copy of Cela’s La Colmena. He stops to eye the selection at a jewelry store, while the store’s attendant (Julián Génisson) watches him suspiciously. Luis returns home to find Alicia still unconscious on the floor. Later, at the hospital, when he speaks privately to Alicia’s doctor (Roser Pujol) in the hallway, we do not hear the conversation, but through his body language we learn that his daughter’s situation is desperate. At home during lunch, Alicia asks her father for permission to smoke a cigarette and to have a gin and tonic. His compliance alludes even further to Alicia’s grim prognosis. Later that evening, he reads Alicia’s “Book of Wishes”: (1) to become whomever she wants; (2) to own a very expensive designer gown inspired by the anime character “Magical Girl Yukiko”; and (3) to turn 13 years old. Focusing on the gown, he discovers online that it would cost almost 7,000 euros. Early the next day, Luis rushes out despite Alicia asking him to stay; she had written a letter to her father that a local radio station was going to read live. It is through this letter that we learn that Alicia has leukemia. Having rushed out,

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Luis returns to the bookstore to sell two more suitcases full of his prized books in an apparent effort to raise money to buy Alicia’s coveted gown. He visits a local bar to speak with an old friend, “Marisol” (Marisol Membrillo), and to ask her for help in paying for Alicia’s gift. She explains that she does not have that money to spare but assures him that Alicia really doesn’t care about the gown as much as she does spending time with her father. Later that night, Luis sets out, determined to finally rob the jewelry store, but his intentions are thwarted by someone vomiting on his shoulder from the balcony above. We then return to hear the rest of Alicia’s letter to her father playing on the radio (voiced by Toña Medina) in Bárbara’s house as she fools around with her husband, “Alfredo” (Israel Elejalde), a controlling psychiatrist who infantilizes and verbally demeans her as well as medicates her. We discover later that he works so that she can stay at home. When their friends (Eva Llorach and David Pareja) visit and insist Bárbara hold their newborn, she laughs uncontrollably, declaring that she thinks it's funny because before she was afraid, but now she just feels like tossing the baby out the window. In private, her husband admonishes her as she insists she was only joking. He gives her a sleeping pill. She awakes hours later to find that he has temporarily moved out. She then drinks and breaks the hall mirror by deliberately leaning her forehead too hard into it. She calls an aged “Damián,” her former schoolteacher, who hangs up as soon as she says her name. The two are listening to the same song, “La niña de fuego,” by Manolo Caracol. Soon after, following more pills and drinking, Bárbara, forehead bleeding, pukes off of her balcony into the street and onto an unassuming Luis. She chases him down, insists he come to her place to clean up, and the two begin talking. Their exchange makes apparent their differences in class and taste: Bárbara lives a life of luxury and frivolity, while Luis, the intellectual, struggles to get by. He even introduces himself using a false name. Observing that she is a woman of means, Luis decides to blackmail Bárbara after the two sleep together, threatening her marriage and security, in order to pay for Alicia’s fantasy dress. In order to comply with Luis’s demands, instead of asking her husband for money, Bárbara seeks out an old friend, “Ada” (Elisabet Gelabert), from what appears to be a former life as a type of high-end sex worker. She subjects herself to the desires of a rural entrepreneur in a wheelchair named “Olíver Zoco” (Miquel Insúa). What she does, however, is left to the imagination. Luis prepares a small scavenger hunt to give Alicia her dress. She is pleased but slightly disappointed; Luis figures out that the Magical Girl’s wand is missing. When Luis demands even more payment, in order to buy the scepter for Alicia, Bárbara returns to Olíver, supposedly to do even more unnamable acts; this time there is no safe word. We then switch to Damián, who is revealed to be in jail for an unknown reason. He begs his counselor (Lorena Iglesias) not to release him because he is afraid of seeing Bárbara again. He is released anyhow, and his fear comes true: he returns from a brief errand to find Bárbara bruised and asleep on his staircase. Their relationship’s exact nature is still unclear, however. Not knowing what else to do, he brings her inside and calls an ambulance. She proceeds to tell him why she is in such a state, blaming everything on Luis, whom she knows as “Pedro.” Her hold on Damián unfurls; she sets him up and he takes it upon himself

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to fix her “problem” when he visits her at the hospital. Virtually immobilized in an almost full body cast, she is a very sympathetic victim to him. Damián tracks Luis down at the library based on Bárbara’s description of both him and their blackmail arrangement. He visits a prison buddy (Javier Botet), from whom he obtains a pistol. He later follows Luis into a local bar where he engages him in conversation, bonding with him over their common former profession. Their casual chat quickly becomes serious when Damián demands Luis leave Bárbara alone, threatening him with the pistol in his coat pocket. He calmly explains his various options for killing Luis, but instead places the pistol on the table and instructs Luis to either shoot himself or to murder Damián, either way punishing him for raping Bárbara. Confused and panicked, Luis explains that he never raped Bárbara. Damián’s rage escalates when Luis swears that Bárbara voluntarily cheated on her husband with him. He shoots Luis in the head without warning. He shoots the bar’s other patron and finally the bar’s owner. Earlier in their conversation, Luis had told him he had recorded the audio of his night with Bárbara on his mobile, so Damián ransacks Luis’s belongings but fails to find the phone. He takes his keys instead and enters his home. After retrieving the phone, he goes to leave, but returns to murder the final witness: Alicia. Unlike the men in the bar, Damián is forced to look away himself when he kills Luis’s daughter because Alicia, dressed in the Magical Girl gown and scepter, refuses his demand to turn around and not look at him. The closing scene echoes and reverses the opening exchange between young Bárbara and schoolteacher Damián. This time, instead of the incriminating note, Damián “magically” makes the incriminating phone disappear in front of Bárbara’s one visible eye. —Teresa M. Greppi

LA MALA EDUCACIÓN (BAD EDUCATION) (2004) Director: Pedro Almodóvar Screenplay: Pedro Almodóvar Specs: 106 minutes; color La mala educación is celebrated Spanish auteur Pedro Almodóvar’s 15th feature film. Comparatively speaking, the film received less critical acclaim on the awards circuit than his two previous films, Todo sobre mi madre (1999) and Hable con ella (2002), with “only” 15 wins and 39 nominations, including Goya nominations for Best Film, Best Director (Almodóvar), Best Production Design (Antxón Gómez), and Best Production Supervision (Esther García). The film weaves a complex web of intertexts and protagonists with multiple identities in order to work through the trauma of the Franco dictatorship and transition to democracy, focalizing on three symbolic years in Spanish history—1964, during the dictatorship; 1977, at the incipit of the transition to democracy; and 1980, a year symbolic of the Movida, the nation’s alternative cultural movement of celebratory hedonism, triumphant freedom, and willful forgetting of the horrors of the past. The film also plays with the intersections of three self-referential intertexts—La mala educación, directed by Almodóvar, which centers on a film by “Enrique Goded” (Fele Martínez) entitled La Visita, which is based on the

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Fele Martínez and Gael García Bernal. Sony Pictures Classics / Photofest © Sony Pictures Classics

short story “La Visita,” which was composed by Enrique’s boyhood crush, “Ignacio” (Francisco Boira), a story that was actually written by Almodóvar himself in 1970. As such, the film’s characters boast multiple and intersecting identities. The most complex is the character(s) played by Mexican actor Gael García Bernal, “Juan” (Ignacio’s younger brother), who assumes the identity of Ignacio to attempt to sell his brother’s story, “La Visita,” to Enrique, in which he intends to star, but who also insists that Enrique refer to him not by his (stolen) identity, Ignacio, but rather by his stage name, “Ángel Andrade.” Bernal’s multiple onstage personas do not end there, however. He also plays the fictionalized Ignacio in Enrique’s film La Visita, in which he also doubles as Ignacio’s alter ego, the drag queen “Zahara,” who desires to blackmail the Catholic priest, “Father Manolo” (Daniel Giménez Cacho), who molested her when she was a boy, in order to have enough money for sex reassignment surgery. In order to silence her, however, Father Manolo has her killed by “Father José” (Francisco Maestre) in the diegesis of La Visita, a tragic ending that mirrors Ignacio’s death in La mala educación at the hands of his brother, Juan, and Juan’s lover, “Señor Berenguer” (Lluís Homar), who symbolically ends up being Father Manolo, who leaves the Church, changes his name, and becomes an editor during the Transition. Not ending there, Ignacio as a young boy is also played by child actor Nacho Pérez, so that Ignacio is represented by at least three different actors at different points in the intersecting fictionalized accounts of his life filmed in La mala educación

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and in La Visita—by Boira, Pérez, and Bernal. Meanwhile, Enrique is not only played by Fele Martínez in the diegesis of La mala educación but also by Alberto Ferreiro, as “Enrique Serrano,” within the diegesis of the film-within-film La Visita, as well as by child actor Raúl García Forneiro as a young boy in the flashback to 1964 that the reading of the short story “La Visita” initiates. The fracturing of identity, which such a multiplicity of characters and intertexts represents, is overtly symbolic in La mala educación, principally referring to the nation’s identity crisis in the face of the transition from dictatorship to democracy. The scene most symbolic of such splintered identity arrives when young Ignacio is molested by Father Manolo. Ignacio attempts to escape the pedophile priest, but he trips, falls, and splits his head on a rock. As he lifts his head, the frame freezes on his face, as a trickle of blood figuratively divides his image in two, and Father Manolo’s grim visage, reading the text of now-adult Ignacio’s short story “La Visita,” appears in between the two halves of young Ignacio’s face. Young Ignacio symbolically relays, “Un hilo de sangre dividía mi frente en dos y tuve el presentimiento de que con mi vida ocurriría lo mismo. Siempre estaría dividido y no podría hacer nada para evitarlo” (A thread of blood divided my forehead in two and I had the feeling that with my life the same thing would happen. I would always be divided and I could not do anything to avoid it.) Ignacio’s literal and figurative separation in two mirrors not only his future division between the alter egos “Ignacio” and “Zahara,” as well as the division between his “real” and “fictitious” selves elaborated in La mala educación and La Visita/“La Visita,” respectively, but also that of the Spanish nation, grappling and attempting to come to terms with its identity after the horrors of dictatorship and a swift transition to democracy. In this same sense, the film’s relationship to film noir is of consequence: in La mala educación, in particular, Almodóvar employs the narrative structure of noir to investigate the problem of history as memory, or memory as history. As in film noir, the film is populated with flashbacks, some of which refer to Enrique and Ignacio at a younger age, or the part of “La Visita” that is “true,” while the latter half of the story, featured in what at first appears to be a flashback but is later revealed to be part of the self-referential film-within-film La Visita, represents Ignacio’s “fictive” ruminations on how he and Enrique would meet once again as adults. Both “flashbacks” form part of the film under equal status of truth value within the diegesis of La mala educación. As such, the audience questions the thin line that distinguishes historical “fact” from subjective memory, from fictionalized account. This is crucial in a film that, in large part, seeks to expose the Franco dictatorship and recuperate the lost historical memory of the losers, long monopolized by the victors, while also endeavoring to overcome the equally insidious desmemoria, or willful forgetting of the Franco years by the Movida, coetaneous to Enrique Goded’s filming of La Visita in Spain. It is in this vein that the film can also be understood as a critique of a form of desmemoria that pushes into the 21st century. Much like Father Manolo—the pedophile priest turned predatory editor of young authors—the same villains have simply redressed themselves in new disguises in contemporary Spain, a phenomenon that Spaniards must recognize, come to terms with, and denounce if the country is to overcome the demons of its past.

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See also Pedro Almodóvar (Appendix A); Carne trémula (Live Flesh); La flor de mi secreto (The Flower of My Secret); Hable con ella (Talk to Her); Mujeres al borde de un ataque de nervios (Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown); ¿Qué he hecho yo para merecer esto? (What Have I Done to Deserve This?); Todo sobre mi madre (All about My Mother) Bibliography D’Lugo, Marvin, and Kathleen M. Vernon, eds. A Companion to Pedro Almodóvar. Malden, MA: Wiley-Blackwell, 2013. Epps, Brad, and Despina Kakoudaki, eds. All about Almodóvar: A Passion for Cinema. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2009. Marcantonio, Carla. “The Transvestite Figure and Film Noir: Pedro Almodóvar’s Transnational Imaginary.” In Contemporary Spanish Cinema and Genre, edited by Jay Beck and Vicente Rodríguez Ortega, 157–78. New York: Manchester University Press.

—Amanda Eaton McMenamin

MAR ADENTRO (THE SEA INSIDE) (2004) Director: Alejandro Amenábar Screenplay: Alejandro Amenábar and Mateo Gil Specs: 125 minutes; color In this film, Alejandro Amenábar reinvents himself. Unlike all his previous movies (from Tesis to The Others), which subscribed to different forms of the thriller genre, in Mar adentro he resorts to dramatic introspection to explore the long, controversial crusade of Galician quadriplegic Ramón Sampedro (Javier Bardem) to end his life with dignity, a fight that galvanized Spain in the 1990s. The film won numerous national and international awards, including 14 Goyas and both the Golden Globe and the Oscar for Best Foreign Language Film of the Year. The challenge Amenábar faced was to keep his story from being a grim march toward Sampedro’s inevitable end, and he pulled it off largely because of Bardem’s tremendous performance. The film picks up the story when Sampedro is in his mid-50s and had been bedridden for about a quarter of a century after a diving accident. Bardem is instantly believable as a soft-fleshed figure sunk helplessly in his pillows. The body may be useless, but the mind is alive, and the spirit isn’t altogether beaten. Sampedro apparently could be a charmer, and Bardem plays him with a gentle sideways smile that melts the hearts of a couple of women in the film. One of these unexpected love interests is “Rosa” (Lola Dueñas), a blue-collar worker, single mother, and part-time radio DJ who finds uplift in his saga. Rosa is sweet but needy, traits that become perfectly clear in Dueñas’s deft, girlish performance. The other woman who gets strongly involved in Sampedro’s life is “Julia” (Belén Rueda), a lawyer who takes his case pro bono. Julia is mature and cleareyed, but she has a degenerative health condition of her own. Sampedro and Julia slowly bond over their incurable disabilities and the manuscript he begins to write, and then Amenábar clinches the mood with the movie’s single breathtaking sequence, a vertiginous airborne fantasy that speeds Sampedro toward Julia

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Javier Bardem and Tamar Novas. Fine Line Features / Photofest © Fine Line Features

and the sea. Amenábar, who as usual composed his own methodical movie score, uses Puccini’s “Nessun Dorma” effectively as well. Julia helps him edit and publish a book of his poetry, but then, having agreed to a joint suicide, she mysteriously backs out. For some time, she tries to change his mind, arguing that his example has inspired her and saved her from a life of despair. Ramón challenges her: “The person who truly loves me will be the one who helps me.” When Ramón’s legal battle for his right to die is lost due to a technicality, he seems to have nowhere to turn but Rosa. Converted by her love for Ramón, she finally agrees to help him die. He achieves his goal in a videotaped end in which he argues that what he is doing is his right and that no others should be blamed or prosecuted for it, sips poison through a straw, and dies. Amenábar has defined his oeuvre as a “cinema of the unknown.” Mar adentro is a beautiful, intelligent, and risky film full of questions. The solid conviction of someone who seeks death is accompanied here by doubts and equally dignified reproaches. The soberness that permeates the film originates in its admirable balances. The austerity of the actors’ performances, the restraint of the dialogue, the protagonist’s combination of sarcasm and sentiment, and the well-paced rhythm of the action all succeed in avoiding an excess of rhetoric or sentimentalism. It succeeds because it avoids turning Ramón Sampedro into the simple hero of a morality play. The director’s empathy is with the man rather than with the cause—or, more precisely, with the man who does not pretend to turn his cause into something universal, a man who, in spite of his stubbornness, does not pontificate at any time.

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The central character and his ordeal could have placed the movie on the edge of a sentimental cliff. This was, in fact, a dangerous bet. The young Spanish director risked falling over the precipice of the clichés associated with Sampedro’s biography and letting his film slip into a tearful melodrama plagued by misunderstandings, a clear moral, and an irrefutable lesson. Mar adentro sails through these troubled waters. It peers into the sentimental abyss but does not fall into it. It touches the protest banner, but it soon distances from it. The film asserts itself in a measured sobriety that does not give in to the temptation of pathos. The difference from his previous films is striking at first sight. It would seem difficult to find something in common with Tesis, Abre los ojos, and The Others. A disciple of Hitchcock, Spielberg, and Kubrick, Amenábar has proved that it was never his intention to become a disciple of his own school. His style in each of his works has a different signature, including the visually unbearable and the delicately suspenseful; from perversion to tenderness; from the underworld of snuff movies to the universe of ghosts. Nevertheless, the ambiguities of the real are always present, as is the presence of death. All of Amenábar’s films deal with different aspects of death: the living dead, handsome murderers, the death that turns the body into a monstrosity, and life that longs for death. Mar adentro is a story of a life cut short that never falls into the simplicity of a manifesto. It could be argued that sometimes the film is close to yielding to that possibility, as in the hopeless trial scene and the grotesque clash with a clergyman on the moral dilemmas of euthanasia, but it never embraces a Manichean perspective. As if aware of the danger, the film immediately distances itself from that risk through the protagonist’s caustic humor. This is one of the achievements of the film’s narrative, which alternatively underscores (and balances) the relevance of affects, the importance of generosity, the ups and downs of humor, the outbursts of anger, the intelligence, and the imagination. In its multiple portrayals of plausible love affairs, the camera’s eye does not wallow in sentimentality. Only seconds are needed to show the immensity (and the torture) of the distance between the bodies, the humiliating life of a body without secrets. Sampedro’s bitter humor disarms not only the viewer but especially those whose only way to understand his dilemma is through an illconceived compassion. Amenábar’s eye soberly focuses on the strength of a man who dared to demystify his own death. The result is a solid drama of extraordinary visual force. See also Ágora (Agora); Abre los ojos (Open Your Eyes); Alejandro Amenábar (Appendix A); Javier Bardem (Appendix A); Los otros (The Others); Regresión (Regression) Bibliography Jordan, Barry. Alejandro Amenábar. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2012. Marr, Matthew J. The Politics of Age and Disability in Contemporary Spanish Film: Plus Ultra Pluralism. New York: Routledge, 2012.

—Santiago Juan-Navarro

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LA MARRANA (THE SOW) (1992) Director: José Luis Cuerda Screenplay: José Luis Cuerda Specs: 100 minutes; color In 1992, Spain held a rather pompous celebration of the quincentennial of the “discovery” of America. José Luis Cuerda sought to revisit such a notorious event in his own way by moving away from the mystification of the heroic deed and by narrating the sweet-and-sour story of two pícaros and a pregnant sow; the result was a scatological comedy that paradoxically was partially funded by the National Commission on the Quincentennial. The film was nominated for two Goya Awards and received the one for Best Actor (Alfredo Landa). The film begins precisely in the summer of 1492. “Bartolomé Gutiérrez” (Alfredo Landa), who had been held captive by the moors in Tunisia, returns to his native Extremadura with the hope of eating his favorite delicacy: pork. Along the way he meets “Ruy,” (Antonio Resines), a deserter who travels with a sow he has stolen on his way. The two pícaros join their destiny, exchange tricks, become friends, and finally arrive in Palos de Moguer with the hope of embarking on one of Columbus’s ships and to at least be able to eat. In La marrana there is neither grandiloquence nor spectacle, even less a eulogy of 1992. Just the opposite: expositive restraint, characters with no historical significance (although they are presented as the anonymous individuals who truly make history), and demystification. José Luis Cuerda seeks to portray the real Spain of those times, a country that had not been captivated yet by imperial dreams, but one that was pervaded by the intolerance and bigotry that would mark its future history. The protagonists are losers whose only incentive is to survive in the midst of an impoverished land. In their journey, which often evokes the episodic structure of a road movie, they meet expelled Jews, soldiers, criminals, prisoners, clergymen, prostitutes, and women accused of witchcraft. The film’s repertoire of themes and characters is clearly inspired in the picaresque tradition. Like picaresque novels, it depicts the adventures of roguish heroes of low social class who live by their wits in a corrupt society. La marrana also adopts the realistic style of picaresque fiction, with elements of comedy and a bitter sense of humor and satire. Ruy and Bartolomé eventually reach Palos in order to embark as sailors with other criminals on a promising voyage to a new world out of the reach of the law. Both the journey into the unknown and the pregnant sow, which allows the two down-and-outs to be accepted as part of the crew, become metaphors of hope, the possibility of a better future, and the opportunity to escape from both misery and a decadent society. The film received mixed reviews in the Spanish newspapers and film journals. Although most praised the intentions of the project, for some it was a failed attempt to contest the Francoist tradition of Hispanidad films, while for others there was an excess of vulgarity and crude humor within a weak script of what was in the end “a flimsy scatological comedy” (Jordan and Morgan-Tamosunas 1998, 30). In a way, it was the low-budget and bleak counterpart of Carlos Saura’s

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El Dorado (1987), another film that revisited the Encounter from a revisionist perspective, but using tons of resources and no sense of humor. See also Así en el cielo como en la tierra (On Earth as It Is in Heaven); El bosque animado (The Enchanted Forest); José Luis Cuerda (Appendix A); La educación de las hadas (The Education of Fairies); Los girasoles ciegos (The Blind Sunflowers); La lengua de las mariposas (Butterfly’s Tongue) Bibliography De España, Rafael. Las sombras del Encuentro. España y América: cuatro siglos de historia a través del cine. Badajoz: Diputación de Badajoz, 2002. Jordan, Barry, and Rikki Morgan-Tamosunas. Contemporary Spanish Cinema. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1998. Úbeda Portugués, Alberto. José Luis Cuerda: ética de un corredor de fondo. Madrid: Iberautor Promociones Culturales, 2001.

—Santiago Juan-Navarro

MARTÍN (HACHE) (MARTIN H) (1997) Director: Adolfo Aristarain Screenplay: Adolfo Aristarain and Kathy Saavedra Specs: 123 minutes; color Considered Adolfo Aristarain’s masterpiece, Martín (Hache) is a SpanishArgentine coproduction that marks a departure from its director’s previous films. Quite different from Un lugar en el mundo (1992) and La ley de la frontera (1995), Martín (Hache) is an intimate drama about personal conflicts and family clashes. The film depicts the intense, painful, and at times comical relationship of four characters whose dialogue reflects on the nature of father-son relationships, bonds to a homeland, and filmmaking. Martín (Hache) was nominated for four Goya Awards in 1998, and Cecilia Roth won one of them for her performance as Best Lead Actress. “Martín,” known as “Hache” (Juan Diego Botto), is a 19-year-old Argentinian boy who has a near-fatal drug overdose after his girlfriend leaves him—thought by many to be an attempted suicide. Afterward, his mother sends him to Madrid to live with his father, “Martín Sr.” (Federico Luppi), a successful but lonely filmmaker who only likes to socialize with two friends, “Alicia” (Cecilia Roth) and “Dante” (Eusebio Poncela). Martín Sr. feels uneasy about having his son around him since both Alicia and Dante are experienced drug users. Regardless, he brings him into his home, hoping to ward off any influences that might cause his son to relapse. Though at some level he cares for his friends, he is just too emotionally removed to ever show it. It is the same with his son, whom he calls H (“Hache”), meaning hijo or son in Spanish, but also a letter without a sound. Still, each member in this rather strange family attempts to reach the boy, whose only interest seems to be the pursuit of sex and drugs. How this unlikely quartet interacts, bouncing the Apollonian against the Dionysian poles of living, forms the basis for the story. Hache grows to understand the spectrum of worldviews, a tragedy occurs, and the ongoing silent duel between father and son comes to a

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touching resolution. As time passes, it becomes clear that Hache needs to leave his father’s place and make a name for himself in his native Buenos Aires. Martín (Hache) picks up where Un lugar en el mundo (1992) conceptually left off. While in his previous film, Aristarain chronicled the demise of a strong father figure, corresponding to the similar end of the welfare/paternalist state in the early 1990s in Argentina, Martín (Hache) illustrates the similar transformations of Spanish society under neoliberalism. The portrayal of the eccentric family, consisting of depoliticized and self-centered individuals who avoid the duties or commitments based on blood lineage, evokes the condition of neoliberal Spain and Argentina in the late 1990s. Furthermore, the liminal position of the characters’ national identities and the transnational nature of the film’s production attest to the attempts at negotiating the local and the global in the Spanish and Argentinean cinemas of the period. In addition to the superb acting, the film relies on a solid script pervaded by recurrent motifs, which include father-son relationships, generational misunderstandings, social attitudes, identity politics, and the need for affection. Essentially a heartfelt drama about a man who is unable to accept love from anyone, the film is filled with intelligent talk among talented people and flashes with wit. Among the film’s memorable moments are jokes about the film industry, a sharp caricature of a producer, a diatribe addressed to a theater audience, some beautiful seaside scenery, and—perhaps best of all—an unflinching eye for the complexities of human nature that make people both lovable and imperfect. Bibliography Rocha, Carolina. “Letrados’ Masculinities in Un lugar en el mundo and Martín (Hache).” Bulletin of Hispanic Studies 89, no. 2 (2012): 163–76.

—Santiago Juan-Navarro

MATADOR (MATADOR) (1986) Director: Pedro Almodóvar Screenplay: Pedro Almodóvar and Jesús Ferrero Specs: 110 minutes; color Matador is a 1986 film directed by Pedro Almodóvar. The film centers on the lives of a retired bullfighter with a fetish for killing his lovers during sexual climax, an obsessed admirer who shares this sexual fixation, and a young bullfighting student who confesses to these murders after witnessing them during vertigo-induced visions. The film was nominated for and won several awards. Among these, it won Best Film at the Bogota Film Festival in 1988, as well as Best Director and a nomination for Best Film at Fantasporto in 1987. The film opens with “Diego Montez” (Nacho Martínez) sitting in an armchair aggressively masturbating to gruesome scenes on his television of women being brutally killed. The scene cuts to Nacho teaching a small bullfighting class on his property, detailing how a bull is killed during a bullfight, while the camera focuses on an engrossed pupil, “Ángel” (Antonio Banderas). The bullfighting lesson is interspersed with scenes of a romantic encounter between a man and

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Nacho MartÍnez. Cinevista / Photofest © Cinevista

“María Cardenal” (Assumpta Serna) in which she carries out the instructions from the lesson being given, killing the man during the climax of lovemaking by stabbing him at the base of the neck between the shoulder blades as is done at the culmination of a bullfight. Ángel accompanies Diego back to his home after bullfighting practice. Because of Ángel’s awkwardness and because he admits to never having slept with a woman, Diego asks him if he is gay. Ángel leaves Diego’s house in a state of rage, insisting that he will prove to Diego that he is not a homosexual. Ángel follows his neighbor, who also happens to be Diego’s girlfriend, “Eva” (Eva Cobo), into an alley and attempts to rape her. Eva falls and cuts her face as she is leaving the alley. At the sight of her bloody face, Ángel faints to the ground. Ángel accompanies his fanatically religious mother, “Berta Giménez” (Julieta Serrano), to church with the understanding that he will seek counseling from the priest. However, he instead travels to the police station to confess his attempted rape of Eva. Eva is escorted to the police station by two police officers, where she informs “Detective del Valle” (Eusebio Poncela) that the rape was unsuccessful as Ángel ejaculated between her legs and did not achieve penetration. Eva declines to press charges even though Ángel insists that she do so. While the detective is flipping through photos of murders, Ángel admits to having killed two of the men depicted in them. The detective then shows Ángel pictures of two of his female bullfighting classmates and he admits to having killed them as well. Ángel meets with his defense attorney, who happens to be María Cardenal, the woman who killed the man during lovemaking in a previous scene. In a brief

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scene that follows, Diego instructs Eva to play dead while he makes love to her. An announcement is made on TV that Ángel has been named as the suspect in several murders. Eva tells Diego that she doesn’t think it was Ángel who killed those people. She goes on to argue that if he were a killer, he would have killed her during the rape attempt instead of passing out upon the sight of her blood. María travels to see Ángel’s mother and is frustrated when she refuses to cooperate in her efforts to defend him against the murder charges. María gets into her car and then notices that Diego is watching her from his car, which is parked behind her. Shaken by his presence, she drives off. Seemingly having lost him, she walks into a movie theater. He finds her in the washroom and they agree to go somewhere to talk. María accompanies him to his property, where they begin to engage in passionate kissing. She removes her daggerlike hairpin and lifts it to kill him in the same way that she killed her victim earlier in the film. Diego fends off her attack, takes her hairpin, and instructs her that one cannot hesitate at the moment of the kill. The film cuts to a fashion show in which Eva is participating. María, who is seated in the audience of the fashion show, takes flight when she notices that Diego is also in attendance. Diego catches up to María on a bridge. She recounts having seen a suicide from that same bridge and describes to him how it made her feel. Diego tells her they are similar to each other in the way that they are both obsessed with death. A taxi pulls up and she jumps in. Before the taxi drives off, Diego asks her what would have happened if he had not grabbed her hand as she attempted to kill him, and she in turn asks what would have happened if she had not defended herself. Diego is now back at his home obsessively watching video footage of the goring that prematurely ended his career. Diego refuses to divert his attention to Eva, who demonstrates jealousy regarding his relationship with María. Diego seeks out María at her legal office and she threatens to shoot herself if he doesn’t leave. The receptionist enters María’s office with Diego’s bullfighting cape, which he has left for her. Detective del Valle travels to Diego’s home and finds the deadly hairpin in Ángel’s locker. He then questions the pupils at the school about the hairpin, enquires about Ángel, and asks about the students that have disappeared. In the following scene, Ángel is in prison wearing headphones while he has visions of murders, including the ones committed by Diego and María. María pays a visit to Ángel in the infirmary at the prison. Unbeknownst to them, the detective is listening behind the door while Ángel admits to the murders and reveals the bodies are buried in Diego’s yard. The detective barges in and requests to be taken to where the bodies are buried. Now at Diego’s house, Ángel leads the detective and his team to the bodies. Before being taken back to the police station, Ángel tells Diego to trust him. Appearing unconvinced that Ángel did this on his own, or at all, the detective asks Diego how Ángel could have possibly buried two bodies in his yard without his having noticed. Defensively, Diego tells the detective to get better evidence against him. After the detective has gone, María takes Diego to her hideout where she has amassed a great deal of Diego’s bullfighting memorabilia. María admits to having looked for Diego in every man she has loved and tried to imitate Diego while she killed them. Diego asks María why she didn’t look for him, and she replies that she didn’t know he was still a matador (killer).

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In a meeting with Ángel’s mother, the detective tells her that her son could not have committed at least one of the murders, and that he is less and less convinced that Ángel has committed any of the murders. The detective travels to the hospital with Ángel’s mother in the hopes that her son will tell her the truth about what has occurred. During this visit it is discovered that Ángel passes out at the site of blood, a fact that his mother confirms to be true. Because of this, the detective declares that Ángel could not have possibly committed the murders. Diego calls Eva to ask her to collect her things and tells her that she would be better off without him. Eva travels to Diego’s home and demands that Diego’s groundskeeper allow her to enter to speak to him. She enters the home, writes a message to Diego on a blackboard, but then is unable to leave because the door is locked from the outside. Eva sits down to have a cigarette when Diego enters with María. Eva overhears them speaking about the murders they each have committed. After María has left, Eva tells Diego that she has overheard everything. Diego implores Eva to forget about him and everything she has heard. Eva demands that Diego give their relationship another chance, and he reluctantly agrees on the condition that she forget what she has overheard. Diego phones María and informs her of what has occurred with Eva. They agree to meet in 20 minutes at a jeweler’s shop. While leaving her office to meet with Diego, María is confronted by Eva, who tells her she heard everything and will go to the police. María dismissively says that no one will believe her and walks away. Ángel, who is continuing to receive treatment at the hospital, begins to have vertigo-induced visions of Diego and María being in grave danger and tells his therapist, “Julia” (Carmen Maura), that they must help them. Eva travels to the police station to reveal everything to the detective. While Eva is there, Ángel’s therapist phones to say that Diego is in danger. Ángel, his therapist, Eva, and the detective all go on the hunt for Diego and María. Diego and María reach her hideaway where she hoards the memorabilia. While enraptured in the act of intense and passionate lovemaking, María kills Diego presumably by stabbing him with a daggerlike hairpin and then kills herself by shooting herself in the mouth. Ángel, his therapist, Eva, and the detective rush through the doors to behold the macabre scene. See also Pedro Almodóvar (Appendix A); Carne trémula (Live Flesh); La flor de mi secreto (The Flower of My Secret); Kika (Kika); Chus Lampreave (Appendix A); La ley del deseo (Law of Desire); Carmen Maura (Appendix A); Mujeres al borde de un ataque de nervios (Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown); ¿Qué he hecho yo para merecer esto? (What Have I Done to Deserve This?) —Emil Marmol

MATAHARIS (MATAHARIS) (2007) Director: Icíar Bollaín Screenplay: Icíar Bollaín and Tatiana Rodríguez Specs: 100 minutes; color Mataharis explores the complexities of romantic relationships in various periods of life. The film’s three protagonists are all female detectives who work for

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an agency in Madrid. The film’s director, Icíar Bollaín, explains that she was drawn to explore this topic after reading a newspaper article about an all-female detective agency in China. According to Bollaín, the article asserts that many of women’s innate abilities—to notice details, observe others, rely on their intuition, and multitask—make them naturals in this line of work. What Bollaín manages to create is a film that shows many intimate details of its characters’ lives, but in a quotidian context—as they take care of their children, get to work on time, and, in general, try to find balance in their professional and private lives. The youngest of the three detectives, “Inés” (María Vázquez), is just starting her professional career and has been put on a big case where she is hired by a large corporation to investigate whether some employees are stealing from the business. She quickly learns, however, that the company actually has hired her to get information about what some employees are planning within the company’s labor union. Because Inés must have regular contact with the company’s employees in order to investigate what is going on, she becomes part of the cleaning staff, which helps her to forge personal relationships with many of the immigrant women who work alongside her. As if the situation weren’t complicated enough, Inés falls in love with one of the primary subjects of her surveillance—a young, attractive manager named “Manuel” (Diego Martín). Ultimately Inés struggles greatly with the ethical dilemma that she finds herself in: should she do what she knows is right and not present the company with the information that she has been hired to give them? Or should she save her job by following through on the surveillance project she started some months ago? In the end, she decides to be true to what she knows is right and walk away from her job, but when the film ends it is not clear if she will be able to salvage her relationship with Manuel afterward. “Carmen” (Nuria González) is another member of the detective agency, a woman in her 50s who lives with her husband, with whom she seems to have lost touch over the years. An especially poignant scene shows Carmen in a sexy nightgown asking her husband when he plans to come to bed, only to hear him reply that it will be a few hours without noticing why Carmen is asking. The primary case that Carmen investigates during the film involves a photographer named “Sergio” (Antonio de la Torre), who is sure that his business partner is making extra money on the side and hiding this income from Sergio. Instead of uncovering shady business practices, Carmen discovers that Sergio’s wife is having an affair with his business partner. Carmen and Sergio spend some time together in Valencia while Carmen watches Sergio’s wife and business partner party as they shoot a wedding, and take advantage of their distance from their families to also spend a romantic weekend together. As Carmen witnesses Sergio coming to terms with his wife’s infidelity, in one scene as he watches her and her lover throw their clothes off as they run into the Mediterranean Sea together, she sees the pain and disbelief in his eyes. Through her conversations with Sergio about the nature of long-term relationships, she starts to understand that her and her husband’s is also over, that they no longer seem to share anything, and in a sincere scene, she simply tells her husband that she is leaving and not coming back. At the end of the movie, it is not clear what her client Sergio will do, how-

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ever. He does not seem ready to say goodbye to his wife, and seems to need some time to process this new discovery before making a decision. “Eva” (Najwa Nimri) is the third detective who is just coming back to work after having her second child. In one of the first scenes of the film, we see Eva and her husband, “Iñaqui” (Tristán Ulloa), engaged in a tense conversation after they discover their baby has a fever just as they are leaving for work. Since the daycare won’t take the baby if he isn’t well, Eva has to juggle her professional and personal obligations in order to find a solution. In the end Eva decides to take the baby to work, much to her boss’s dismay, as she has to inform a woman of her husband’s infidelity while she keeps as eye on her baby in a stroller just next to her. This scene is emblematic of Eva’s current station in life as a young, working mother. Most of the scenes with Eva and her husband, Iñaqui, show them passing each other in their flat—with one coming and the other going—while exchanging quick instructions about what their two young children need for the coming hours. The primary “case” that Eva investigates during the movie is that of her husband, who has been receiving mysterious messages from a woman, one of which Eva notices on his phone while Iñaqui is busy. Suspecting that he may be having an affair, Eva decides to trail her husband one day when he claims to be going mountain biking with friends. She discovers that Iñaqui is not leaving town to meet up with another woman, but rather, he drives all the way to Zaragoza in order to spend time with a young boy. Eva finally confronts her husband about his dishonesty and discovers that the boy is Iñaqui’s own son from a previous relationship, a son that he knew nothing about until recently when his exgirlfriend told him about the boy. This situation causes tremendous tension in their relationship because Iñaqui’s secret makes Eva question whether she can trust her husband, asking him on one occasion what other secrets he is keeping from her. In the end, Eva and Iñaqui make it through this crisis and seem to be stronger because of it. It is a conversation that Eva has with her colleague Carmen that helps her to see that not disclosing information isn’t the same as lying. The other case that Eva is just starting to investigate as her family life seems to be unraveling before her very eyes also helps give her some perspective on what is truly important in life. Her client is an elderly gentleman in his late 80s who desperately wants to find his long, lost love from before the Civil War. The man explains that he’s been very lonely ever since his wife has died and that finding the girl whom he loved dearly before the war and being able to tell her what happened all of those years ago would make him very happy. Eva is touched by the man’s sincerity and his heartfelt need to find this woman, even at his advanced age. It is both in this storyline and in that of Eva’s colleague Carmen that the theme of loneliness is explored. As screenwriters Rodríguez and Bollaín weave together the stories of these three women’s professional and private lives in an expertly crafted screenplay, they create a work that underscores the complexities and beauty of romantic relationships. Likewise, the support and understanding that the three women afford one another shows the power of solid friendships. The theme of communication is a key one in the film as well, which is emphasized by the masterfully created dialogue and also through the long silences that often say more than any

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number of words could. This is especially true in Carmen’s relationship with her husband, in which communication seems to have broken down a long time ago, compelling Carmen to chat with her houseplants on occasion. Bollaín comments in an interview that she reworked some scenes during filming in order to take advantage of the way in which the actors reacted to one another and their environment. This is apparent in the film as the actors’ exchanges ebb and flow in a sincere and natural way. Some scenes of the film also take on a documentary feel to them, as if the camera were simply observing real people in their everyday lives. Ultimately, Mataharis is a fresh, dynamic film that explores the complexities of relationships, ethical dilemmas, and work/life balance without giving simplistic answers. Rather than giving solutions to the situations its characters confront, it poses many questions that linger in viewers’ minds well after the final credits have finished rolling. —Susan Walter

MI VIDA SIN MÍ (MY LIFE WITHOUT ME) (2003) Director: Isabel Coixet Screenplay: Isabel Coixet, based on a short story by Nanci Kincaid Specs: 106 minutes; color What would you do if you were only given a few months to live? “Ann” (Sarah Polley), a 23-year-old university custodian in British Columbia, discovers that she has spreading, inoperable ovarian cancer. She decides not to let anyone know— not her husband, two daughters, parents, best friend, or new neighbor. She does pen a list, however, of “things to do before I die.” This includes such tasks as recording annual birthday messages for her children throughout their childhood, smoking and drinking as much as she wants, and visiting her incarcerated father. Another of the items is to explore being with another man (her husband being the only one she has ever even kissed), and she conveniently meets “Lee” (Mark Ruffalo), with whom she starts an affair. Ann eventually decides to end it, however, despite his suffering a “classic case of falling in love.” In the end, Ann seems to be at peace—her relationships with her father and mother are improved, and she has (conveniently) found in her new neighbor a replacement wife and mother for her family. Based on Nanci Kincaid’s short story “Pretending the Bed Is a Raft,” Coixet’s use of flashbacks and oneiric sequences breaks up the story’s melodramatic subject matter (i.e., a young wife and mother with a terminal diagnosis), as when her fellow shoppers in a supermarket dance while she continues nonchalantly about her business. Perhaps less realistic than other cancer films, it stands out in that the victim keeps her illness a secret and thus only contains her perspective on the illness. Some critics regarded her end-of-life choices as selfish, such as her decision to find another man when she has a loving, supporting, and handsome husband (Scott Speedman) at home. It does not seem to affect her marital relationship, although it admittedly cuts into what little remaining time she has with him and their children, besides being, deliberately or not, cruel to Lee.

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Sarah Polley and Mark Ruffalo. Sony Pictures Classics / Photofest © Sony Pictures Classics

An El Deseo production that was a joint Spanish-Canadian coproduction, My Life without Me was awarded by both the Spanish and Canadian film academies, with two Goyas (for Best Adapted Screenplay and Best Original Song) and a Genie (Best Actress for Polley), respectively. The film received three more Goya nominations, for Polley, Coixet’s direction, and Best Film. Besides Polley and Ruffalo, other stars include Amanda Plummer, Spanish actor Leonor Watling, Portuguese actor Maria de Medeiros, Debbie Harry (aka rock star Blondie), and even an uncredited Alfred Molina, who plays Ann’s father. See also Isabel Coixet (Appendix A); Cosas que nunca te dije (Things I Never Told You); La vida secreta de las palabras (The Secret Life of Words) —Zachary Ingle

MOROS Y CRISTIANOS (MOORS AND CHRISTIANS) (1987) Director: Luis García Berlanga Screenplay: Rafael Azcona and Luis García Berlanga Specs: 116 minutes; color Moors and Christians, Luis García Berlanga’s 15th film, exemplifies Berlanga’s comedic style with a preference for long, uninterrupted general shots and multiple simultaneous dialogues. Additionally, it has two features present in almost all of his films: a mention of the Austro-Hungarian Empire and a corpse. The film takes up the topic of the transformation of Spain from an isolated and backward

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nation into a modern European country. For her performance, Verónica Forqué won the 1987 Goya Award for Best Supporting Actress. The film is set in Xixona (Valencia), the world capital of turrón making (a special Christmas dessert), at the old, failing factory of the Planchadell and Calabuig families. “Pepe” (Pedro Ruíz) and “Agustín” (Agustín González) have managed to convince their father and CEO of the family company, “Fernando” (Fernando Fernán-Gómez), to attend a gastronomical convention with them in Madrid to promote their products. Upon arriving in Madrid, the group of men realizes that its assigned booth is next to the restroom in a secluded area. They try to change the booth location, but after not being successful, Pepe and Agustín decide to visit their sister, “Cuqui” (Rosa María Sardá), a right-wing politician running for senator, to see if she can help them with the booth location. Cuqui learns that the family business is almost bankrupt and needs a lot of marketing and exposure without investing any money in it. Not wanting to deal with them at that time, Cuqui decides to send the group of men to “Jacinto López” (José Luis López Vázquez), her personal image consultant, to see if he can help them. López meets with Pepe, Agustín, and Fernando to discuss the marketing of turrón. While Pepe and Agustín defend the idea of updating the image, Fernando insists that what makes the difference is that the turrón has to have good ingredients. López, adamantly defending the branding of their product, sets up an experiment in a grocery store to prove otherwise and point out that the image, rather than quality, sells the product. However, Fernando suffers a heart attack, and Pepe and Agustín see it as an opportunity to follow López’s advice. Their problem is that, although they run the company, they do not have access to the company’s budget. At night they have an argument with Fernando about what to do. Fernando decides to leave Cuqui’s house with his nephew, “Marcial” (Andrés Pajares), to live in a luxurious retirement home, but when Cuqui learns of this, she talks to him, as this would have the potential to negatively affect her political interests. Pepe and Agustín meet with López at a flamenco dance school to plan their marketing campaign without having to invest any money. López decides to change the turrón’s name to Moors and Christians and organizes a TV appearance on a cooking program, which prompts Fernando’s second heart attack. After the TV show, López has also arranged their entry in a European quality contest that they cannot win because they do not have the money to pay off the organizers. After having failed, López decides to take a photoshoot of the whole family, following Fernando’s traditional business approach. The result does not look good, so he decides to replace the faces of the family members in the photo with pictures of models. When the picture is displayed on a billboard in front of the factory in Xixona, Fernando dies from a heart attack. Ultimately the film presents a tragic comedy accompanied by thinly veiled social commentary about adapting to the nuances of a new political and social milieu after the fall of Franco. See also La escopeta nacional (The National Shotgun); Fernando Fernán-Gómez (Appendix A) —Luis Guadaño

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EL MUERTO Y SER FELIZ (THE DEAD MAN AND BEING HAPPY) (2012) Director: Javier Rebollo Screenplay: Lola Mayo, Javier Rebollo, and Salvador Roselli Specs: 94 minutes; color El muerto y ser feliz is a 2012 road movie directed by Javier Rebollo. The SpanishFrench-Argentine coproduction was recognized at numerous film festivals and received many awards, including Best Actor at the Premios Goya 2013. One of this film’s most innovative characteristics is its voice-over narration featuring the voices of two of the screenplay’s authors, Lola Mayo and Javier Rebollo. One could interpret the voice-over commentary as either a type of screenplay read parallel to the image or an authorial commentary superimposed on the image. El muerto y ser feliz tells the story of the elderly hitman and Spanish immigrant “Santos” (José Sacristán), who travels across Argentina in his old Ford Falcon with “Erica” (Roxana Blanco), a woman he meets at a gas station. Before his trip, while still in Buenos Aires, Santos is hired for a job and paid in advance. However, bizarre circumstances prevent him from completing his assignment. Throughout the film, this character suffers from remorse and hallucinations. For example, he thinks he sees the man who hired him. Santos also repeats the names of his victims in order to remind himself of the name of the first person he killed. Santos and Erica’s road trip takes place after the summer vacation season has ended. Trapped by their respective life circumstances, they travel without any pre-established direction. Erica is escaping from another man and Santos, suffering from fatal tumors and slowly approaching death, is running away from his past and his morphine-induced memories. As their trip unfolds, they meet many other characters, though not all of them are identified by name in the credits. Instead, some of them are mentioned in a way that highlights the physical or personal characteristics of each protagonist rather than their name. Although Erica and Santos stop in numerous places along the way, of particular importance is their stop in San Miguel de Tucumán, where Santos runs out of morphine and Erica begins to buy him drugs. This is followed by their stay in Salta, where Santos takes cocaine in a hotel and throws money off the balcony, which—as a reference to the film’s title—makes him happy. Lastly, they travel to the declining colonial estate owned by Erica’s family. The relationship between humans and dogs is an important theme of El muerto y ser feliz and it is present in the sequences of Erica and Santos’s stay in the estate. The peace and quiet of the family’s leisure is destroyed when a dog named Walter appears. Erica’s father raises dogs in search of the perfect breed, and a long time ago he had wanted to kill Walter because of his imperfect occlusion. Erica freed Walter then, and he is now able to escape once more. In the middle of the search for Walter, Santos finally remembers the name of the first person he killed. Then he leaves the estate unnoticed and drives his car into the rainforest. The female and male voice-overs provide two possible endings to Santos’s story. The experience of watching El muerto y ser feliz may make the viewer uncomfortable and confused since it challenges the perception of multiple stimuli

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that come from visual as well as on-screen and off-screen auditory channels. Already in the first sequence, the viewer may notice the film’s play with image and sound. The street noise suddenly becomes silent, which subsequently makes audible the voice-over narration. Interestingly, in El muerto y ser feliz the voiceover constantly comments on the protagonists’ physical mobility and linguistic exchanges. It is often not synchronized with the image and directly precedes the dialogue, anticipating what the characters are going to say. In so doing, it provokes a humorous and even absurd effect. —Agata Grzelczak

MUJERES AL BORDE DE UN ATAQUE DE NERVIOS (WOMEN ON THE VERGE OF A NERVOUS BREAKDOWN) (1988) Director: Pedro Almodóvar Screenplay: Pedro Almodóvar Specs: 88 minutes; color Mujeres al borde del ataque de nervios marked a turning point in Pedro Almodóvar’s career. After the success of La ley del deseo (1986), he undertook a new project based on Jean Cocteau’s La voix humaine (1930), a monologue where a desperate woman tries to avoid being dumped by her lover through a series of phone calls. It was shot between October and December of 1987 and released in 1988. The film was an instant success and international projection transformed Almodóvar into a celebrity. The film received glamorous reviews both in Spain and abroad. It was nominated for 15 Goya Awards and received five, including Best Film, Best Original Screenplay, and Best Lead Actress. “Pepa” (Carmen Maura) is an actor in her 30s whose lover, “Iván” (Fernando Guillén), has just left her. Both she and Iván work as voice-over actors who dub foreign films, notably Johnny Guitar with Joan Crawford and Sterling Hayden. The voice he uses to sweet-talk her (and many other women) is the same one he uses in his work. He is about to leave on a trip and has asked Pepa to pack his things in a suitcase that he will pick up later. Pepa returns home later to find her answering machine filled with frantic messages from her friend “Candela” (María Barranco), who seeks refuge from the police. The plot takes all sorts of unexpected turns. As an apparent plan for suicide, Pepa dumps her sleeping pills into a blender full of homemade gazpacho but becomes distracted and forgets to drink it. But other people are continually drinking it at the worst possible moment, and her living room soon looks like a battlefield hospital, littered with snoozing bodies. Her friend Candela has not exactly been deserted, but her most recent lover is a terrorist who used her apartment to build bombs, one of which may be on the plane Iván is taking with his latest romance. Pepa cannot decide if she wants to win Iván back or kill him, but in the end she rushes to the airport in a frenzied taxi race with Lucía (Iván’s mad ex-wife) firing a gun at them. Pepa arrives just in time and thwarts the murder attempt by rolling a luggage cart at Lucía. The ending ties all the subplots together and Pepa finally talks to Iván and sees the woman who replaced her as

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María Barranco, Antonio Banderas, and Julieta Serrano. Orion Classics / Photofest © Orion Classics

Iván’s mistress: the shrill feminist lawyer who refused to defend Candela. Back in her apartment, Pepa sits on the terrace where “Marisa” (Rossy de Palma) has just woken up. The two women share a moment of serenity and bonding at the end of a crazy 48 hours, and she finally reveals what her big news for Iván was: she’s pregnant. A screwball comedy similar to the works of Ernst Lubitsch and Billy Wilder, the screenplay piles one bizarre, implausible scene on top of another, and yet each one of them is based on a remarkable observation of social behavior in contemporary Spanish society and its search for modernity. Almodóvar also channeled inspiration from the likes of Alfred Hitchcock and Douglas Sirk into his own unique vision, arriving at the irreverent sense of humor and vibrant visual strategies that define his work today. With a sensational ensemble cast of early Almodóvar regulars, this film shows an artist in total control of his craft. Though feminist in its sympathies, the film is far from being an empowering feature for women. Almodóvar’s characters keep asserting idiosyncrasies that do not allow them, or the film, to be categorized as such. In its excesses, each and every one of Almodóvar’s previous films bore the traces of a young, inexpert director. At the beginning of his career, Almodóvar had not yet learned that being suggestive is far more powerful than being crude. Shock quickly became tedious. By the time he reached Women on the Verge, the same off-beat humor is still present, but he has learned to manipulate his materi-

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als more subtly, and thus engage his audience more powerfully. He matured as a filmmaker very quickly. His skill developed surely, and his features from this film onward have been truly remarkable. See also Pedro Almodóvar (Appendix A); ¡Átame! (Tie Me Up! Tie Me Down!); Carne trémula (Live Flesh); La flor de mi secreto (The Flower of My Secret); Kika (Kika); Chus Lampreave (Appendix A); La ley del deseo (Law of Desire); Carmen Maura (Appendix A); Matador (Matador); ¿Qué he hecho yo para merecer esto? (What Have I Done to Deserve This?) Bibliography Evans, Peter William. Mujeres al borde del ataque de nervios. London: British Film Institute, 1993. Smith, Paul Julian. Desire Unlimited: The Cinema of Pedro Almodóvar. London: Verso, 2000.

—Santiago Juan-Navarro

•  N • NADIE HABLARÁ DE NOSOTRAS CUANDO HAYAMOS MUERTO (NOBODY WILL SPEAK OF US WHEN WE’RE DEAD) (1995) Director: Agustín Díaz Yanes Screenplay: Agustín Díaz Yanes Specs: 104 minutes; color Nadie hablará de nosotras cuando hayamos muerto is a 1995 film directed by Agustín Díaz Yanes. The film tells the story of “Gloria” (Victoria Abril), a lowerclass woman from Madrid who witnesses a crime while working as a prostitute in Mexico City. Back in Spain, Gloria tries to find money to sustain her and her husband, a paralyzed bullfighter, while “Julia” (Pilar Bardem), her leftist motherin-law, supports them. Among other awards, the film won Best Film, Best New Director, Best Actress, Best Supporting Actress, and Best Screenplay at the 1996 Premios Goya. Nadie hablará de nosotras cuando hayamos muerto combines melodrama and suspense to produce an atmosphere of tragic desperation. The film reflects the post-1992 pessimism that engulfed Spain after the mega events of that year were followed by economic crisis. The plot of the film revolves around Gloria’s struggle to survive. The film opens with images of bullfighters overlaid with audio from a phone conversation that reveals an accident has occurred in the ring, and that “Juan” (Ángel Alcázar) has been injured. Three years later, Gloria is in Mexico City performing oral sex on men conducting a drug deal that results in a shootout between two Mexican gangsters and two corrupt DEA agents. Gloria and “Eduardo” (Federico Luppi), one of the gangsters, survive. One of the DEA agents gives Gloria a list of locations where the Mafia launders money before the police arrive. Eduardo escapes to find his daughter passed out at home; Gloria is deported. In Madrid, Gloria returns to her Vallecas apartment where Juan remains paralyzed and Julia gives private classes to schoolchildren to pay the mortgage. In Mexico, “Doña Amelia” (Ana Ofelia Murguía), the Mafia boss, pays Eduardo’s daughter a hospital visit, during which she tells Eduardo to find Gloria. Meanwhile, Gloria visits one of the Mafia’s money-laundering sites in Madrid, a fur store. Eduardo bribes a prostitute for information about Gloria’s whereabouts, and she hands him a photo of Gloria standing in front of Bar Ramiro, which is located below Gloria’s apartment. Gloria lies to Julia, telling her she got a job at the fur store, prompting Julia to admonish her to complete her diploma so she can find better work. Julia gives Gloria money to buy clothes for her “job,” which she uses to rent an apartment above the fur store. Gloria drills through the floor and fills a bag full of money, which she drops while climbing the rope back up to the apartment just as the store’s owner returns. Narrowly escaping, Gloria enters a bar 277

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and orders a whiskey. Drunk, she crawls into Juan’s room and tells him to die. Doña Amelia discovers her store was raided and sends Eduardo to Madrid to kill Gloria. Before going, Eduardo explains that God is punishing him by making his daughter sick every time he kills someone. Julia signs Gloria up to take the test she needs to pass in order to get her diploma. Eduardo arrives in Madrid, accompanied by “Oswaldo” (Daniel Giménez Cacho), a confidant of Doña Amelia and an aficionado of Spanish cuisine. Eduardo easily locates Bar Ramiro using the yellow pages. While planning a dinner for two of Julia’s friends, Gloria learns that Julia was tortured but refused to talk while she was in prison during the dictatorship. After her attempts to find work fail, Gloria interviews for a job as a telephone operator that turns into a sexual proposition she accepts in return for cash, which she uses to purchase an expensive fish for Julia’s dinner party. Gloria unknowingly bumps into Eduardo’s car as she stumbles back to her apartment, inebriated. As Eduardo loads his gun, he receives a phone call informing him that something’s happened to his daughter, so he lets Gloria escape. The next day, Gloria robs the fur store while Eduardo discusses his dilemma with a priest. Eduardo pulls a gun on Gloria when she arrives home with the stolen money, which he returns before taking her to the apartment where Oswaldo is waiting for them. After killing Eduardo, Oswaldo tortures Gloria to recover the list of money-laundering locations, but she refuses to cooperate and kills him with a pen. Gloria gets a job as a truck driver while Julia prepares her for her upcoming exam. Julia asks an upper-class friend for enough money to pay off Gloria’s mortgage before committing suicide, killing Juan along with her. The film ends with Gloria in the exam, writing an essay on the elusiveness of happiness. See also Victoria Abril (Appendix A); Días contados (Running Out of Time); ¿Qué he hecho yo para merecer esto? (What Have I Done to Deserve This?) —Scott Boehm

ELS NENS SALVATGES / LOS NIÑOS SALVAJES (THE WILD ONES) (2012) Director: Patricia Ferreira Screenplay: Patricia Ferreira and Virginia Yagüe Specs: 100 minutes; color Els nens salvatges is a 2012 film directed by Patricia Ferreira, who initially developed an extensive career in television and in the film industry. In addition to television and film productions, Ferreira is also a professor of acting in the Film School of the Community of Madrid (ECAM: Escuela de Cine de la Autonomía de Madrid). So far she has directed five films: Sé quién eres (2000), El alquimista impaciente (2002), Para que no me olvides (2005), Señora de (2010), and Els nens salvatges (2012). Ferreira has won several awards and nominations. Els nens salvatges was nominated for three Goya Awards in 2013 and was the winner for Best Picture in the 2012 Málaga Film Festival as well as for Best Supporting Actress (Aina Clotet), Best Supporting Actor (Álex Monner), and Best Screenplay

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(Patricia Ferreira and Virginia Yagüe). However, despite being trending topic on Twitter during the Goyas Awards of 2013, the film was hardly seen by the Spaniards, and it only generated €219,484. The plot of Els nens salvatges revolves around “Álex” (Álex Monner), “Gabi” (Albert Baró), and “Oki” (Marina Comas)—three hopeless teenagers from different social classes who live in Barcelona. They are rebellious and rude. They are always out and about and do not obey anyone, including their parents and their teachers. They enjoy experimenting with life, and their favorite hobbies consist of flamenco dancing, kick-boxing, and graffiti. They think they know everything but do not really know much. They also think they are self-sufficient, so they can live apart from everything and everyone, without being subject to any rules, but again, they are very wrong. The structure of the film is similar to a bildungsroman in the sense that the film gradually shows the psychological and moral development of three youngsters who are becoming adults. Through the eyes of these kids and their families appears also a portrait of today’s Spanish society. One of the kids is a graffiti artist with a dream, another is a good student who nevertheless has a problem with his father, and the girl does not receive love from her parents. With this film, the director shows the conflicts of teenagers who struggle on their road to adulthood. In fact, their way of learning will be hard and painful since there are times when the children become unknown, both for their parents and for themselves. But at the same time, Els nens salvatges captures the misunderstanding generated by the tastes and concerns of young people that are totally different from those of their parents and, precisely for that reason, are so distant and divergent. The film tries to build a bridge to understanding both universes. The use of the language in Els nens salvatges is certainly worth noting for several reasons. First, this is one of Spain’s few films that was shot simultaneously in Catalan and Spanish, showing that Spain is a multilingual country. This movie was a coproduction of Television de Catalunya (TV3) and Canal Sur. Second, like most teenagers in the world, these three adolescents have problems communicating with their parents and vice versa. In other words, the lack of communication becomes a theme in the movie in the sense that Els nens salvatges talks about the lack of communication between teenagers and the adult world. It is a portrait of a generation often described as “lost.” And third, in showing the way of life of these three adolescents, the director depicts a convincing description of how the new adolescents (millennials) in Spain are. In doing so, Els nens salvatges does not offer answers to the new reality of the latest generation of Spaniards; instead it shows the new issues that the youngest Spaniards will have to confront: immigration, economic crises, and above all, the increasing disparity between the social classes. See also El alquimista impaciente (The Impatient Alchemist); Patricia Ferreira (Appendix A); Historias del Kronen (Stories from the Kronen) Bibliography Solé Blanch, Jordi. Imaginarios de la juventud. Barcelona: Universitat Oberta UOC, 2016.

—Enrique Ávila López

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NINETTE (NINETTE) (2005) Director: José Luis Garci Screenplay: José Luis Garci and Horacio Valcárcel Specs: 118 minutes; color Ninette is a 2005 film directed by José Luis Garci based on the two plays written by Miguel Mihura focusing on the character of Ninette: Ninette and a Gentleman from Murcia, written in 1964, and Ninette, Paris Fashions, written in 1966. José Luis Garci, together with Horacio Valcárcel, who is one of Garci’s recurrent collaborators, authored the script. The film tells the story of “Andrés” (Carlos Hipólito), a provincial gentleman in postwar Spain who inherits some money and a religious bookshop from his aunt. He decides to go to Paris before taking over his new business, seeking to escape Spain’s rigid moral rules of the time. His friend “Armando” (Enrique Villén) organizes his stay at the house of a Spanish exiled couple, “Doña Bernarda” (Beatriz Carvajal) and “Monsieur Pierre” (Fernando Delgado), who are proud of their liberal lifestyle that would have been impossible in Spain at that time. Once in their house, Andrés meets their daughter, “Ninette” (Elsa Pataky). Together, Andrés and Ninette start an unexpected journey that will impede his journey to explore Paris but will instead allow him to discover love and romance. Andrés’s first hours in Paris are far from his expectations of staying in a luxury hotel near the Seine River and enjoying France’s lifestyle; he was eager to start exploring the city and its pleasures and, more important, to find some easy Parisian girls. While waiting for Armando, who reluctantly is trying to organize an encounter with some girls, Andrés meets Ninette. She soon makes Andrés fall in love with her. Ninette is at the same time charming and innocent but with a spicy touch that Andrés is not used to in Spanish girls. Ninette convinces Andrés to stay home with her rather than going out and visiting Paris, a city that she dislikes. They start a secret affair based on lies and deceit in order to explain Andrés’s permanent stay at home. This secret romance and the lies that they have to tell Ninette’s parents and Armando trigger comic situations; Andrés pretends to have stomach problems, sickness, and even an ankle injury. In the end, the situation is unveiled once Ninette gets pregnant and has to tell his parents. Their apparent liberal principles disappear once they discover their secret affair and pregnancy, calling for the couple’s marriage. Ninette’s family decides to go back to Spain in order to celebrate the wedding, thereby ending their exile years. Back in Spain and after the wedding, it turns out that Ninette’s pregnancy was a false pregnancy. Nonetheless, they remain married. Out of jealousy Andrés keeps Ninette away from his friends and other people in Murcia, which bores Ninette, who finds having nothing to do extremely unappealing. At the same time, Andrés does not enjoy married life and fools around with “Maruja” (Mar Regueras), the clerk at his shop, to whom he is also attracted. When Ninette and her mother decide to open a French fashion boutique in Murcia, Andrés first opposes the idea, but then he thinks the shop will keep Ninette away from home for long periods of time so he can enjoy time with Maruja. Ninette is aware of the situation, and once again she uses her charm to control Andrés without confrontation or actively fighting for his love, and he finally decides to return to

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her. The film concludes with both going back to Paris to look for clothes for the shop and, as Andrés wishes, finally visiting Paris—but it seems that, in the end, Ninette will convince him again to stay in their hotel room. In the first part of the movie, the conflicts arose from the different visions of morality of France and Spain. Garci gives Ninette a sensual, even erotic, touch. Ninette openly expresses her sexuality and desire in order to seduce and control Andrés—this being a way of exerting her power over men, and in particular Andrés, who is unable to resist her charms. The conflicts of the second part are driven by Andrés’s old-fashioned ideas about women, whose role as housewives should prevail over professional aspirations. Ninette was nominated for seven Goya Awards in 2006, including Best Screenplay and Best Supporting Actor (Enrique Villén). Gil Parrondo won the Best Production Design award for his work in Ninette; this was his fourth Goya Award, all won for movies directed by José Luis Garci. See also Canción de cuna (Cradle Song); José Luis Garci (Appendix A); Tiovivo c.1950 (Tiovivo c.1950); Volver a empezar (Begin the Beguine) —Fernando Ortiz-Moya

EL NIÑO (THE KID) (2014) Director: Daniel Monzón Screenplay: Daniel Monzón and Jorge Guerricaechevarría Specs: 136 minutes; color El niño is a 2014 film directed by Daniel Monzón. It tells the story of two young Spaniards who become drug smugglers. The reception of the film was very positive, and it was a box-office success. The film was awarded four Goya Awards. El niño deals with the drug-smuggling phenomenon that takes place in the Strait of Gibraltar. Two friends, “Niño” (Jesús Castro) and “Compi” (Jesús Carroza), live in a small village in the south of the province of Cádiz, Spain. Niño works as a mechanic and Compi as a fisherman. They realize they will not be able to enjoy a life of luxury with their low wages unless they embark on other, more profitable projects. Compi gets to know a young half-Moroccan boy, “Halil” (Saed Chatiby), who persuades both friends to carry out a mission for his boss, “Rachid” (Moussa Maaskri). For the mission, Niño and Compi are expected to cross the Strait of Gibraltar driving a speedboat at night and carrying a number of packages full of drugs. Their trip becomes much more dangerous than what they had expected, because the border police detect the speedboat and chase them by helicopter. They manage to slip away, and they finally get to Spain safe and sound—yet they find out that the packages they have brought from Morocco are full of sand. In other words, they worked as a decoy while Rachid and his gang smuggled the packages containing the drugs. After this successful first experience, Niño, Compi, and Halil decide to start working together so that they do not need to depend on Rachid’s network. Halil is responsible for contacting Moroccan cannabis growers, Niño takes the drugs in a rucksack from Morocco to Spain by jet ski, and Compi is in charge of deal-

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ing the drugs in Spain. Yet the three friends need a fourth person because someone must take the cannabis from the farms of the growers to the beach, where Niño collects it in a rucksack, so Halil’s sister, “Amina” (Mariam Bachir), gets involved in their network. Soon Niño and Amina fall in love. The network starts making a profit, and the friends realize they can earn much more money if they are able to smuggle a larger amount of cannabis. Instead of the jet ski and the rucksack, they decide to make use of a speedboat like Rachid’s network. Yet such a smuggling operation turns out to be much more complex and dangerous. Compi is forced to remain in Morocco as a guarantee for the network they work with. While crossing the Strait of Gibraltar in the speedboat, Niño and Halil are chased by the helicopter of the Spanish border police. Halil fires a flare that makes the helicopter crash. Eventually Niño and Halil manage to arrive in Spain, but Halil has a nervous breakdown because he believes there have been casualties in the helicopter crash. Once in Spain, Rachid and his gang take the drugs from them. Niño and Halil realize they will have to engage in an additional operation if they want to save Compi’s life. They manage to get hired by a network based in Gibraltar that intends to smuggle cocaine. Simultaneously, two members of the Spanish border police, “Jesús” (Luis Tosar) and “Eva” (Bárbara Lennie), find out that the operation in which Niño and Halil are involved is just a decoy, and that the Gibraltar network will be taking advantage of the chase to smuggle an extremely large container loaded with cocaine. Jesús and Eva also learn that one of their colleagues at the border police, “Sergio” (Eduard Fernández), is in fact a mole working for the Gibraltar network. Jesús informs the head of his section, “Vicente” (Sergi López), who reluctantly decides to open and examine the suspicious container while Jesús and Sergio try to arrest Niño and Halil. While unloading the yacht, Niño is captured by Jesús, but Halil manages to catch Sergio. Jesús decides to drop his gun in order to save Sergio’s life, and despite being cornered by a police unit, the two young smugglers manage to run away. Niño gets in a car and makes three police units chase him while Halil is able to escape with the drugs by yacht. Finally, Niño is arrested, but Halil manages to save Compi’s life. Also, Jesús’s suspicions turn out to be right, and the container he had referred to Vicente is indeed full of cocaine. The last scene shows Amina paying a visit to Niño in jail. The film is a thriller with spectacular special effects, mainly during the scenes in which the helicopter chases the speedboats. Although the subject of drug smuggling in the Strait of Gibraltar is central in the film, El niño also manages to depict other numerous topics, such as the cultural contrasts between Morocco and Spain, the consequences of the Moroccan-Spanish border, the life of border workers, and the lack of ambitions and expectations of a generation of young Spaniards. See also Celda 211 (Cell 211); Lo imposible (The Impossible); Daniel Monzón (Appendix A) —Guillermo Sanz Gallego

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NO HABRÁ PAZ PARA LOS MALVADOS (NO REST FOR THE WICKED) (2011) Director: Enrique Urbizu Screenplay: Enrique Urbizu and Michel Gaztambide Specs: 104 minutes; color Directed by Enrique Urbizu, No habrá paz para los malvados (2011) is a successful crime thriller that explores the connections among institutional corruption, drug mafias, and Islamic terrorism. In 2012 the film received multiple honors and recognitions, including the Goya Awards for Best Film, Best Director, Best Screenplay, and Best Lead Actor. No habrá paz para los malvados constitutes the peak of Urbizu’s filmography, whose style is characterized by a combination of genre conventions with innovative resources. Urbizu can be considered the master of what we now call “middlebrow cinema” in Spain, a director (and teacher) committed to cinema as an art form. His well-crafted films rely on special care for acting and on attention to detail through a sophisticated mise-en-scène. As a result, his cinema treats the audience with respect, guiding the viewers while also allowing them to interpret the plot. No habrá paz para los malvados follows the antihero “Santos Trinidad” (José Coronado) around the traditional corners of Madrid as he unexpectedly uncovers a terrorist plot inspired by the attacks that occurred on March 11, 2004. After a night of drinking alone and wandering around, Santos goes to a brothel and

José Coronado. Tribeca Film / Photofest © Tribeca Film

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gets suddenly involved in a triple murder. A witness to the events manages to escape, which leads to the unfolding of the protagonist’s investigation. From the very beginning, the protagonist is introduced as a self-destructive, obnoxious, and corrupt police officer. A former member of the Special Forces with a bright past, Santos loathes his job and purposefully neglects his responsibilities in the Department of Missing Persons. The film also hints at a brighter personal past: Santos is a lonely man who, in his own words, “nobody can love,” but he wears a wedding ring and has a photo of a child by the side of his bed. The reasons for his personal and professional decay remain partly unexplained, but their absence makes the character more sophisticated. Santos echoes the antiheroes of twilight westerns: his disengagement, his questionable morals, and his cowboy-like methods are ultimately what allow him to make his last positive contribution. It is actually because of this depth of character that the audience stays engaged: the three-dimensional design of the protagonist allows the viewer to connect with Santos. His name effectively captures the irony of his fate and the contradictions of his unpredictable actions: he simultaneously embodies the villain and the savior, a contradictory role brilliantly performed by José Coronado. The complex plot unfolds subtly, but the film is full of references and tracks that allow the audience to connect the dots, such as the shots of the Atocha train station and the reference to the dates leading up to the attacks. As Santos tries to eliminate the witness to his crimes, he starts an investigation that unexpectedly leads him to discover the plans of a massive Islamic terrorist attack. At the same time, “Judge Chacón” (Helena Miquel) is investigating the triple assassination, closely following the steps of Santos as she brings to light the connections between the drug mafia and the terrorist cells based in Spain. Urbizu’s deep research of the real events can be appreciated in the rigorous portrayal of the police force, which incorporates a subtle critique to the workings of the official institution. Chacón embodies the justice, the potential fairness of the system, as she uses the existing structures of the police to discover the plot. She is also a sophisticated and three-dimensional character who combines an impeccable moral code, brilliant detective instincts, and a human personal side. In contrast, Santos incarnates the opposite values as he takes the law into his own hands and acts as a criminal himself. The juxtaposition of these two characters emphasizes the irony of the story: they are antagonists, but they both have the same goal in the end. As she investigates, Chacón encounters absurd obstacles within the police force, such as the power struggles between departments that obstruct the investigation, the sexism of some of her peers who hide information from her, and the complete unawareness of the situation. During the days in which the story develops, an important international summit takes place in Madrid, keeping the police busy as they take care of antiglobalization protests and protect political leaders from all over the world. However, the summit eventually distracts them from the seriousness of the terrorist plot, which they take for granted. All these handicaps give Santos an advantage over Chacón, thus creating a paradox in which his outsider methods succeed over the legal procedures. The end of the film epitomizes this moral paradox. Santos eventually finds the brain of the terrorist plot before Chacón and confronts the main members of the terrorist cell. In the last scenes, the suspense accumulated throughout the film

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builds up to a tense unfolding that keeps the audience committed to the story and, above all, to Santos. The final resolution of the conflict, which will not be spoiled in this text, questions the foundations of the Spanish system and of the narrative itself. Is Santos really a criminal or is he the real hero? Did he uncover the terrorist plot by accident or was it all part of a master plan? Was it causality or fate that led him to the murder at the brothel? All these unanswered questions leave the audience room for interpretation and they also expose the irony of the status-quo: the storm is always about to start, but the root of the problem seems to be where nobody is looking. The system only works because of individuals with principles, like Chacón, who struggle from within for the victory of justice. But when the system fails, the fortune of innocent citizens depends on outsiders who operate by their own code, like Santos Trinidad. In the end, as the film concludes, one rule applies to all: there will be no rest for the wicked. —Cristina Ruiz-Poveda Vera

LOS NOVIOS BÚLGAROS (BULGARIAN LOVERS) (2003) Director: Eloy de la Iglesia Screenplay: Fernando Guillén Cuervo, Antonio Hens, and Eloy de la Iglesia, based on the novel by Eduardo Mendicutti Specs: 96 minutes; color Los novios búlgaros is a 2003 comedic crime drama directed by Eloy de la Iglesia. It tells the story of a middle-aged gay man living in Madrid who becomes sexually involved with a handsome, bisexual Bulgarian refugee with Eastern European Mafia connections. The film marked Iglesia’s return to directing after 16 years and won the Best Feature—Gay Male award at the Philadelphia International Gay and Lesbian Film Festival. This was Iglesia’s last film before his death in 2006. The film is an adaptation of a 1993 novel of the same name by Eduardo Mendicutti, a Madrid-based journalist and author of several other homosexual novels. Like most of Iglesia’s other films, Los novios búlgaros is queer cinema that relies heavily on homoerotic imagery and situations. The film sets itself apart from other Iglesia films such as Colegas (1982) and Navajeros (1980), which focus on male adolescent hustlers and hooligans that exploit on-screen sexuality, and presents the events of the narrative in a comedic fashion told from the perspective of an older, though slightly naïve, gay man. The plot of the film focuses on “Daniel” (played by cowriter Fernando Guillén Cuervo), a wealthy, middle-aged lawyer who, along with his other gay friends, frequently scopes out young, foreign men to engage for sexual conquest and/or to support in a quid-pro-quo relationship. One night, Daniel is out at a club filming a variety of Eastern European immigrants ranging from teenagers to late 20-somethings. He meets “Kyril” (Dritan Biba), a muscular, attractive Bulgarian refugee, and immediately becomes enamored. Daniel buys a starved Kyril dinner and invites the young man to stay at his apartment. At this offer, Kyril shakes his head from side to side, which means consent as Daniel tells the viewer (via voice-over) that Bulgarians have such gestures reversed. Back at Daniel’s home,

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he and Kyril have sex, which the younger man is clearly not interested in as he casually looks at his watch in the midst of the act. Even with this sign of disinterest, Kyril moves in with Daniel, who in turn has offered to help the refugee with his papers and a potential (albeit shady) business deal. Daniel’s friends, particularly the flamboyant, cinephile “Gildo” (Pepón Nieto), warn that Eastern foreigners are only interested in money and having their papers put in order, not love, but Daniel ignores their cautioning. Soon, Kyril and Daniel enter into a domestic but very sexual relationship, even though Kyril maintains he is deeply committed to his girlfriend, “Kalina” (Anita Sinkovic), a beautiful young woman from his Bulgarian hometown who now lives in Berlin. At Daniel’s insistence, Kyril is able to send for Kalina to come and live in Madrid. Daniel immediately feels displaced as the two Bulgarians unabashedly assert their passion for each other. Meanwhile, Daniel meets several men associated with Kyril who initially present themselves as Bulgarian officials but are quickly discovered to be traffickers in an illegal item. Daniel assumes Kyril is dealing in chemically made drugs based on bloodshot eyes and increasing burns and sores on the younger man’s hands. When Daniel finally refuses to follow Kyril any deeper into this tangled web of international intrigue, the latter leaves, insisting Daniel look after a satchel with instructions to keep it unopened. Daniel begins to search for another man to replace Kyril and eventually meets and beds “Emil” (Óscar Iniesta). One day, when the two are having sex, a group of armed, masked men break into Daniel’s apartment, tie up the couple, and ransack the place. Kyril returns to see if his satchel is still safe and that Daniel is unharmed (in that order). A few days later, Kyril is hospitalized due to a physical altercation with the masked men who broke into Daniel’s apartment. Daniel rushes to his side and Kyril tells him he wants to return to Bulgaria and marry Kalina in a traditional ceremony with all his family and friends in attendance. Daniel goes with Kyril and Kalina to their homeland and meets his lover’s family, including Kyril’s young, equally attractive cousin “Robi” (Nikolay Maksimov Genchev). During the wedding, Daniel is filming the festivities—the dances, the food, and, most attentively, Kyril. After several hours, Daniel walks away from the party and sits at the edge of the surrounding woods. Robi approaches him, smiles, and walks into the forest, gesturing for Daniel to follow. Once they are far enough away from the wedding, Robi removes his shirt and waves for Daniel to come closer. The older man, scared and partially drunk, runs away, leaving Robi looking sad and disappointed. After returning to Spain, Daniel visits his family’s country estate but is soon joined by Kyril and Kalina, to his parents’ chagrin. Daniel shows the couple the grounds and house, including a wine cellar that seems to interest Kyril. Days later, Daniel is back in Madrid and receives a call that Kyril is in jail for suspicion of selling stolen uranium (not drugs, as Daniel suspected). When Daniel visits the jail, he is told that if the case with uranium is retrieved and delivered to the shady businessman from earlier in the film, then Kyril will be released. Daniel finds the case in his parents’ wine cellar, discovers the uranium, and gives it to the smugglers as instructed.

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Once Kyril is released, the two meet in a bar to discuss the future. Kalina has returned to Berlin and Kyril will follow her. Daniel asks to be called every so often but knows this is the last time he will see Kyril. The final scene of the film shows Daniel back at a club looking for men only to discover Robi, newly arrived in Madrid and looking to be taken care of by a wealthy man and to have his papers put in order. Daniel, naturally, though now somewhat jaded, walks away with Robi back to his apartment. While the film relies heavily on homoeroticism to sustain the narrative, one intriguing theme in Los novios búlgaros that may go unnoticed is cinematic voyeurism. Daniel is continuously seen viewing the world around him through the lens of his video camera. In an early scene, he is at a bar looking for a man to take home for sex. Instead of simply looking at the young men around him, he views them through his camera as if the “right” man must be photogenic and appear well on film. Another scene has Daniel at a party at Gildo’s apartment, which is modeled after a classic Hollywood studio, complete with old movie cameras and studio lighting. Daniel has his own camera and films the festivities, particularly the young men Gildo has invited, but there are also shots of him looking at the room through the lens of the decorative cameras. Daniel seems not to be able to live his life, until he meets Kyril, without viewing it through a lens. In “Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema,” Laura Mulvey (1975) defined the camera’s perspective in motion pictures as “the male gaze,” meaning that what is viewed on-screen is the eye of a heterosexual male. Iglesia inverts Mulvey’s theory in this film, and by so doing, creates an interesting presentation that pulls away from tired tropes and conservative techniques. See also La estanquera de Vallecas (The Tobacconist from Vallecas); El pico (Overdose) Bibliography Mulvey, Laura. “Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema.” Screen 16, no. 3 (1975): 6–18. Tropiano, Stephen. “Out of the Cinematic Closet: Homosexuality in the Films of Eloy de la Iglesia.” In Reconfiguring Spain: Cinema/Media/Representation, edited by Marsha Kinder, 157–77. Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 1997.

—Jonathan Clark

1 •  O  • LOS OJOS DE JULIA (JULIA’S EYES) (2010) Director: Guillem Morales Screenplay: Guillem Morales and Oriol Paulo Specs: 99 minutes; color After writing and directing El habitante incierto (The Uninvited Guest, 2004), Guillem Morales takes up some of the same topics presented in his first feature film—the themes of alienation and the doppelganger, voyeurism, and the intrusion of terror in the familiar sphere—to create Los ojos de Julia (Julia’s Eyes, 2010), a psychological thriller produced by popular psycho-horror movie director Guillermo del Toro. After being officially selected at the 2010 Toronto International Film Festival, Julia’s Eyes immediately captivated the Spanish audience, and soon became second-highest-grossing Spanish film of the year. Although, according to Morales, the aesthetic premises for this film are to be found in video games and not in films, the Hitchcockian echoes and the similarities with Michael Powell’s Peeping Tom (1960) are unquestionable. In addition, the striking focus on the eyes and their role as a catalyst of terror and suspense are also to be found in many Hollywood horror thrillers (The Eyes of Laura Mars, Eyes of a Stranger, The Hills Have Eyes, The Eye Creatures, Scanners, White of the Eye, Don’t Look Now, Crawling Eye, Eyes of Hell, Headless Eyes) and also in Spanish films such as Bigas Luna’s Angustia (1987) and Alejandro Amenábar’s Tesis (1993). In Julia’s Eyes, Morales tells the story of “Julia” (Belén Rueda), a young woman who is trying to reveal the identity of the murderer behind the alleged suicide of her twin sister, “Sara,” also played by Belén Rueda. The irony is that, as she is trying to see through the mystery of the death of her sister, Julia is literally losing her sight. Sara's and Julia’s stories run parallel; they both suffer from an inherited degenerative eye disease and they are both victims of the nurse who takes care of them when they are at their most vulnerable state. Throughout her search, Julia will discover the unconditional and generous love of her husband, “Isaac” (Lluís Homar), but also the horror created by a psychopath who seduces women to blind and kill them. As the action progresses, the parallels between the lives of the twin sisters become more obvious. When Julia realizes that her own nurse has murdered Sara and soon will also become her own executioner, she flees and seeks refuge in “Soledad’s” (Julia Gutiérrez Caba) house, a supposedly blind and helpless old woman who lives next to her sister’s house. When she believes she is safe from her pursuer, making sure all doors and windows are closed, the murderer appears inside the house. His identity and motives are exposed at this point and the connection to Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho becomes apparent. Soledad’s son, “Ángel” (Pablo Derqui), has become a serial killer and the blame for his aberrant behavior is put on his controlling mother. After killing 288

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her, Ángel commits suicide and thus is presented as a victim of his mother, who becomes the true diabolical figure of the film. Thus, the misogynistic message that is derived from this unexpected twist conflicts with the feminist ideological stance that pervades the rest of the film. Julia’s Eyes is a complex movie that plays with the conventions of different subgenres: love story, psychological thriller, gothic horror, slasher movie, and Italian giallo, among others. In “Visual Pleasure in Narrative Cinema,” Laura Mulvey argues that in classical Hollywood movies, the male gaze projects its fantasies onto the female characters, which are styled in an exhibitionist role that connotes “to-be-looked-at-ness” (1975, 837). However, this is not necessarily the case in this film. In spite of the strong erotic visual emphasis on Belén Rueda’s body, the dynamics of the gaze in Julia’s Eyes are much more multifaceted than what Mulvey suggests, and this complexity is achieved thanks to the interplay of sadistic and masochistic elements that cross gender roles in terms of audience identification. Morales privileges Julia’s perspective all the way through the film, so that when she has her eyes blindfolded, the spectators do not see the faces of the people around her. The emphasis on Julia’s eyes is obvious in the promotion poster, the dialogue, and in the abundant visual imagery that permeates the most significant scenes of the film. Therefore, in this movie the audience identification does not fall with the sadistic male gaze but rather with the horrified, masochistic gaze of the female character that Carol Clover (1992) calls the Final Girl—that is, the young woman who suffers a series of extremely cruel aggressions but can finally confront her attacker successfully and take revenge on him. The great commercial success of Julia’s Eyes was accompanied by mixed reviews. On one hand, most critics praised Belén Rueda’s portrayal of Julia, always courageous and determined, even when she loses her sight and is at her most vulnerable point. They also celebrated Guillem’s impeccable camerawork and splendid photography as well as the creation of an effective Hitchcockian atmosphere of suspense, which is achieved by an excellent pacing of the action, especially during the first part of the movie. However, as Julia’s Eyes reaches the climax, the accumulation of twists, instead of intensifying the spectators’ emotional jolts, leaves the suspense strategies too exposed and both the characters and the situations start to lose credibility. Bibliography Clover, Carol. Men, Women, and Chain Saws: Gender in the Modern Horror Film. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1992. Labanyi, Jo, Antonio Lázaro-Reboll, and Vicente Rodríguez Ortega. “Film Noir, the Thriller, and Horror.” In A Companion to Spanish Cinema, edited by Jo Labanyi and Tatjana Pavlovic´, 259–90. Malden, MA: Wiley-Blackwell, 2013. Mulvey, Laura. “Visual Pleasure in Narrative Cinema.” Screen 16 (1975): 6–18.

—María Asunción Gómez

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ÓPERA PRIMA (OPERA PRIMA) (1980) Director: Fernando Trueba Screenplay: Fernando Trueba and Óscar Ladoire Specs: 93 minutes; color Ópera prima is a 1980 film directed by Fernando Trueba. Representing Trueba’s directorial debut, it is one of several Madrid comedies made in the late 1970s and 1980s belonging to what has been termed the new comedia madrileña. It also launched the career of Óscar Ladoire, who cowrote the film’s screenplay and played the role of “Matías,” the main protagonist The plot revolves around the romantic relationship between 25-year-old Matías, a journalist and would-be novelist, and his cousin “Violeta” (Paula Molina), a 19-year-old violin student living in Plaza de la Ópera in central Madrid. Set in 1978, the film is typical of the period of Spain’s transition to democracy by virtue of its allusion to generational tensions in the depiction of the fraught relationship between an overly anxious older man and a freer, less self-conscious teenage girl. Matías is advised in amorous matters by his photographer friend “León” (Antonio Resines), an overtly macho man brimming with sexual confidence, while Violeta divides her affections between Matías and her student cellist friend “Nicky” (Luis González Regueral), of whom Matías becomes insanely jealous. Matías’s personal life is complicated by his previous relationship to “Ana” (Kiti Manver), with whom he has a son, “Alejandro” (Alejandro Serna). The film opens with Matías and Violeta’s chance encounter outside the metro station at Ópera. Overjoyed and taken aback by how much his cousin has changed, he takes her telephone number, promising that he will ring. The action then moves to an airport lounge for the first of the film’s ironic takes on contemporary culture. Matías, accompanied by León, is interviewing “Warren Belch” (David Thomson), an American novelist promoting his book Mierda seca (Dry Shit). Offended by comparisons with Arthur Miller and in possession of a briefcase stuffed with banknotes, the novelist’s style is brash, his comments irreverent and vulgar. In a later scene, Matías and León are invited to partake in a threesome by their next interviewee, “Zoila Gómez” (Marisa Paredes), director of erotic films. A nod to the increasingly sexualized culture of the immediate post-Franco years, the scene is rendered comic by the contrast between Zoila’s and León’s excitement and Matías’s awkward reluctance and flight, and also by the possibility that the erotically charged atmosphere has caused Matías’s tape recorder to catch fire. After his weekly Saturday visit with Alejandro, which takes place in a park, Matías has his first dinner date at Violeta’s apartment. Here the things that divide them come to the fore: Violeta’s vegetarianism, love of travel, and dream of living in the country. These differences, however, do not deter them. On his next visit, Matías is introduced to Nicky rehearsing a string arrangement with Violeta. The strident, raucous sound of Nicky’s composition is a source of annoyance for Matías and of comedy for the spectator. Matías, perturbed by the physical proximity between the musicians, accidentally sits on a record Nicky has left on a chair. Violeta can barely contain her laughter as Matías, semi-apologetically, suggests Nicky might glue the broken pieces back together. Once alone, Violeta

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asks Matías to bed. In a reversal of conventional gender roles, Matías undresses for Violeta as she awaits him between the sheets. On the evidence of this first night, Matías, it seems, is a better talker than he is a lover, although Violeta clearly does not mind. On this occasion, he puts his ineptitude down to having eaten chicken; on the next, he is undone by the angst he experiences when he thinks about death—a technique suggested to him by León to avoid premature ejaculation. Physically unimpressive, Matías defies convention in a film that subjects gender stereotypes to scrutiny, albeit lightheartedly. Matías moves in with Violeta and buys a typewriter with the intention of completing his novel, although he will never get beyond chapter 6. The initial joy of moving in with Violeta soon gives way to frustration and jealousy. In a scene where, after rehearsal, Nicky joins the couple for a cheese supper, Matías is first annoyed by Nicky’s choice of accompanying drink—a glass of milk rather than wine—and then by Nicky and Violeta’s revelation that they are planning a trip to a festival in Peru, to which Matías is also invited. True to form, Matías responds to the idea with mockery and disbelief. As time goes by, Matías becomes increasingly possessive of Violeta and hostile toward Nicky. He continues to suffer from writer’s block to the discordant sounds of Violeta and Nicky’s constant rehearsing. Matters come to a head when Violeta prevents Matías from entering her apartment so she can comfort Nicky, who has failed an exam. Jilted, Matías drives around aimlessly and then has a run-in with a thug (El Gran Wyoming), who mistakes him for a drug dealer and leaves him with a black eye at a gaming hall. Although Violeta nurses his wounds, Matías determines to rid himself of Nicky once and for all, possibly recalling his son’s warning, in an earlier scene, that Violeta will be stolen from him as Ana was before her. Matías seeks out and assaults the cellist at a rehearsal studio and subsequently intercepts his calls to Violeta. But it is all to no avail. Violeta confirms that she and Nicky are leaving for Peru and Matías decides to retreat to León’s and seek refuge in his writing. Violeta and Nicky visit Matías to show there are no hard feelings, and Matías prepares them a soup that he pretends is poisoned. Violeta and, of course, Matías see the funny side; Nicky does not. More bad news follows, as Ana tells Matías she is concerned by his recent behavior and would rather he not see Alejandro for a while. This prompts Matías to fake a shoplifting incident, leaving a supermarket supervisor (Tony Valento) somewhat embarrassed and perplexed on discovering Matías empty-handed. Matías returns to Violeta’s apartment and sits at his typewriter. He gives his chapter the title “Nothing” and a first line, “Nothing made sense.” Yet something prompts Matías to make a final attempt at winning Violeta back. He rushes by taxi to the airport in the hope of catching Violeta, unaware that she has already changed her mind and turned back. The truth becomes apparent when Matías returns to the apartment and finds a message on his typewriter: “I love you, Johnson” (Johnson being Violeta’s nickname for him). He leaves to look for her outside and finds her listening to a group of jazz musicians in the street. The film ends with the couple embracing to the wistful sound of saxophones in the background. Ópera prima relies on its witty dialogue and the spectators’ empa-

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thy for its male lead. The film’s happy ending confirms its unabashed attachment to the conventions of romantic comedy. See also Marisa Paredes (Appendix A); ¿Qué hace una chica como tú en un sitio cómo este? (What’s a Girl Like You Doing in a Place Like This?); Fernando Trueba (Appendix A) Bibliography Castro, Antonio. “Entrevista con Fernando Trueba.” Dirigido por. Revista de cine 74 (1980): 18–22. Seguin, Jean-Claude. Historia del cine español. Translated by José Manuel Revuelta. Madrid: Acento, 1994.

—Federico Bonaddio

EL ORFANATO (THE ORPHANAGE) (2007) Director: Juan Antonio Bayona Screenplay: Sergio G. Sánchez Specs: 100 minutes; color El orfanato is a horror film that marks Juan Antonio Bayona’s filmmaking debut. The film was nominated for 18 Goya Awards and won seven, including Best Young Director and Best Screenplay. It was also nominated for the 2008 Critics’ Choice Awards for Best Foreign Language Film and for the 2008 European Film Awards in five categories, including Best European Film. The film was a big success at the box office and it was well received by American critics as well upon on its original release. El orfanato tells the tale of “Laura” (Belén Rueda), who spent part of her childhood at the Good Shepherd Orphanage and now, as a wife and mother, has returned to the old manor to reopen it with her husband as a center for ill and disabled youngsters. Her seven-year-old son, “Simón” (Roger Princep), is frightened by the place but then meets some imaginary playmates. When he disappears on the clinic’s opening day, Laura goes looking for him among the ghosts that are either in her house or in her mind. She slowly becomes convinced that something long hidden and terrible is lurking in the old house, something waiting to emerge and inflict damage on her family. Critics found the lack of cliché tactics to scare the audience refreshing, as the film focuses instead on an acute feeling of suspense that keeps the spectator second-guessing and wondering what is around the corner. The simplicity of the horror in Bayona’s film is what made it so successful. There are many elements that bear a resemblance with the works of Guillermo del Toro (its producer). Like del Toro, Bayona is interested in using the horror genre to explore emotions beyond mere fright. Though there are plenty of features of the horror film genre, El orfanato is ultimately concerned with grief, remorse, and maternal longing. Following gothic conventions, if these emotions are credible, the lapses of logic and plausibility that haunt nearly every exercise in supernatural cinema will melt away. Metaphysical leaps can be forgiven if the underlying melodramatic

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Óscar Casas. Picturehouse / Photofest © Picturehouse

architecture is sound. In this sense, the film is reminiscent of The Sixth Sense (1999) and The Others (2001), two films with ghost stories whose blending of the creepy with the weepy El orfanato recalls. In fact, most of their ingredients are present: a sensitive mother; an angelic, endangered child; and a spooky house in the middle of nowhere. There is just one gory scene in El orfanato, and it is so fleeting and uncannily naturalistic that it nearly goes unnoticed. Bayona can distill more dread from a simple party scene with attendees wearing creepy masks than the usual horror film can wrench from gore, torture, or psychopathic killers. Perhaps this quality is due to the terror that emanates from El orfanato, not necessarily stemming from what is unknown so much as from what is known—specifically, that which the characters fear losing, even after it is lost. Laura’s return to the orphanage is an attempt to recapture a happy time in her life. Similarly, Carlos’s attempt to hold onto Laura after Simón’s disappearance, and even Simón’s insistence on spending time with his imaginary friends rather than joining the world of the living, are all ways the characters cling to things that are already slipping away from them. As first-time screenwriter Sergio G. Sánchez declared, the film is difficult to describe. It is not a drama or a horror film—but it is also both, suggesting instead to not try too hard to define it. The confusion surrounding whether the film’s spectral visions are real or a product of intense grief is what makes it such a special film, according to Guillermo del Toro.

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See also Juan Antonio Bayona (Appendix A); El espinazo del diablo (The Devil’s Backbone); Lo Imposible (The impossible); El laberinto de fauno (Pan’s Labyrinth); Los otros (The Others) Bibliography Davies, Ann. “The Final Girl and Monstrous Mother of El orfanato.” In Spain on Screen: Developments in Contemporary Spanish Cinema. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2011. del Toro, Guillermo. El orfanato / The Orphanage: Una película de J. A. Bayona. La película y sus creadores. New York: Digitalia, 2007.

—Santiago Juan-Navarro

LOS OTROS (THE OTHERS) (2001) Director: Alejandro Amenábar Screenplay: Alejandro Amenábar Specs: 101 minutes; color Set in Jersey in the Channel Islands in 1945, “Grace” (Nicole Kidman) and her two children live alone in a fog-enshrouded Victorian mansion. Three servants arrive mysteriously, and Grace explains to them her idiosyncratic rule that they must ensure that doors are always locked within the house so that no candlelight can escape into another room. The home is without electricity and curtains are always drawn as her children both suffer from xeroderma pigmentosum, a rare disorder of photosensitivity. Keeping them sheltered in this literal and metaphorical darkness, Grace homeschools them, primarily in her intensely strict version of Catholicism. After experiencing various unexplained phenomena around the house that she and the others blame on ghosts, Grace discerns an even harsher reality: that she, her children, and the servants are the titular “others” haunting any living “intruders” inhabiting their home. Amenábar originally wrote The Others in Spanish, as it was entitled La casa and to be shot in Chile, his place of birth. But it attracted the attention of Tom Cruise and Miramax, so the film was anglicized, though still shot in Spain. Released at a time when horror was still generally denigrated by critics and audiences as lowbrow entertainment, The Others was marketed primarily as a thriller, attempting to mimic the box-office and critical success of The Sixth Sense (M. Night Shyamalan, 1999). And like that film, The Others was prized for its surprise ending, one remarkably similar to Shyamalan’s film. Other key intertexts with the film concerning what happens when “the world of the dead gets mixed up with the world of the living” include Henry James’s novella The Turn of the Screw (and Jack Clayton’s 1961 screen adaptation The Innocents) and one of Amenábar’s favorite horror films, The Changeling (Peter Medak, 1980). The film won or was nominated for several awards, including a Golden Globe nomination for Kidman. In a film with light as a key theme, Javier Aguirresrobe’s cinematography earned one of the film’s eight Goya Awards, including Best Film, Best Director, and Best Screenplay. Even Amenábar’s effective minimalist score earned a nomination. Memorable juvenile performances by Alakina Mann and

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James Bentley also merited Goya nominations, although both surprisingly only appeared in a few more films. An international blockbuster grossing over $200 million internationally, it became the highest-grossing Spanish film ever, becoming so well known that it was spoofed in Scary Movie 3 (David Zucker, 2003). Furthermore, it brought renewed attention to Spanish horror in a post-Naschy/ Franco (Jesús, that is) era, helping establish Spain as the leader in 21st-century European horror. See also Abre los ojos (Open Your Eyes); Ágora (Agora); Alejandro Amenábar; Mar adentro (The Sea Inside); Regresión (Regression) Bibliography Jordan, Barry. Alejandro Amenábar. Spanish and Latin American Filmmakers Series. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2012.

—Zachary Ingle

1 •  P  • PA NEGRE / PAN NEGRO (BLACK BREAD) (2010) Director: Agustí Villaronga Screenplay: Agustí Villaronga, based on the novel by Emili Teixidor Specs: 108 minutes; color Pa negre is a 2010 Catalan-language Spanish drama written and directed by Agustí Villaronga that takes place in Catalonia during the immediate postwar years. The screenplay is based on the novel by Emili Teixidor, with elements of two other works by him, Retrat d’un assassí d’ocells (Portrait of a Bird Killer, in English) and Sic transit Gloria Swanson. The film is about a child of Republican sympathizers obsessed with ghost stories. It won 13 Gaudí Awards and nine Goya Awards, including Best Film, Best Director, and Best Adapted Screenplay. It was honored with the 2011 Premio Nacional de Cinematografía (National Film Award) and was selected as the Spanish entry for Best Foreign Language Film at the 84th Academy Awards, being the first Catalan-language film to do so. In the harsh years of postwar rural Catalonia, “Andreu” (Francesc Colomer), an 11-year-old boy relegated to the losers’ side, comes across the bodies of a man and his son in the woods. When the authorities want to pin the blame on his father, “Farriol” (Roger Casamajor), the boy decides to try and help him, setting out to find out who killed them. Andreu interacts most closely with his parents and his cousin “Nuria” (Marina Comas). Slowly but surely, the deception of the adult world comes into focus before his eyes, and he must commit an act of extreme betrayal to save himself. The film is a chilling tale of how war and poverty can create monsters. Unlike most films about the Spanish Civil war, which traditionally tend to present a black-and-white view of the conflict, Villaronga opts for emphasizing ambiguity over transparency and abjection over heroism. The film’s stunning cinematography is deployed in the service of a story that mixes realism with an imaginative projection, in a world where everyone is lying to cover up some unpalatable truth. Complex questions about guilt and innocence aren’t neatly resolved; Farriol, who still professes devotion to his ideals, is not necessarily the victim he first appears to be when he is persecuted for the murder by the fascist mayor (Sergi López)—a man who once pursued Andreu’s mother (Nora Navas). And when the story spins in a completely unexpected direction, it is not even clear that the vicious crime is directly related to the war at all. The truth is that a conflict of that horror and magnitude covers for a multitude of sins. In emphasizing affect, violence, and the forces that drag the past with them, Villaronga turns from a simplistic portrayal of Spain’s recent past and instead evokes the emotions it has produced. Although the film clearly puts forth a very specific vision of war-torn Catalonia in the early years of the dictatorship, it does so through emotional storytelling rather than true dates, battles, or firsthand 296

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Marina Comas and Francesc Colomer. Savor / Photofest © Savor

accounts. Like in Guillermo del Toro’s films on the Spanish Civil War (El espinazo del diablo, 2001, and El laberinto del fauno, 2006), in Pa negre imagination also seems to be the only way of negotiating the real. As Villaronga’s 1987 film Tras el cristal was dominated by hazily sketched locales and histories in order to tell how the bad ghosts of the past still wander through the present, Pa negre also broadly depicts Catalonia and the reality of its mistreatment under the dictatorship in order to show what types of things are born in war—from children to illnesses, from subversion to subservience. The sensations that emerge from the film, and its focus on producing an affective viewing experience laced with historical reality, depict the violence that emanates from war as a generational malady. The specific challenge offered within Pa negre, then, is to think beyond the bounded spaces to which we have contained negative affects and to allow their productive capacity a purchase in our understanding of how violence works in and through institutions, people, and events. See also El espinazo del diablo (The Devil’s Backbone); El laberinto de fauno (Pan’s Labyrinth) Bibliography Allbrington, Dean. “Recovering Childhood: Virulence, Ghosts, and Black Bread Manchester.” Bulletin of Hispanic Studies 91, no. 6 (2014): 619–36.

—Santiago Juan-Navarro

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PACTO DE BRUJAS (WITCHERY DEAL) (2003) Director: Javier Elorrieta Screenplay: Javier Elorrieta, Frank Palacios, and Juan Antonio Porto Specs: 107 minutes; color Pacto de brujas is a 2003 film directed by Javier Elorrieta. It tells a detective story of a series of murders. On this occasion, five people have been assassinated by a male suspect in strange circumstances before he commits suicide. The investigation led by the police officer reveals that some supernatural powers have intervened and conditioned the death of all the deceased. The film received some positive reviews, but not many. It was nominated in the category of Best Film at the Catalan International Film Festival in Sitges in 2002. The film is based on the original novel La camisa del revés (1992) by Andreu Martín. The plot revolves around the decision made by “Ricardo Maristany” (Rodolfo Sancho) to take shelter in a phantasmagoric abbey in the Catalan side of the Pyrenees in Spain together with his girlfriend, “Lidia” (Bárbara Elorrieta), in order to make a living out of their cultivation of marijuana. Soon the couple is haunted by several spirits. Ricardo starts to behave in a strange way, which makes his partner abandon their home. Several individuals are found dead in the surroundings a few days later. The only evidence is the diary written by Ricardo, in which he narrates the events of the tragedy. The film, however, starts with a consultation with a medium in a session in which psychiatrist “Julio Degrás” (Ramón Langa) and his wife, “Luisa” (Patricia Vico), participate with some friends. They are trying to contact Ricardo, who communicates to them that he is neither dead nor alive. They are using a spirit board, or Ouija. During the questioning, a glass held by the guests moves around the table, indicating that Ricardo will soon meet Julio in person, and then it falls to the floor, injuring him on his cheek with a piece. In spite of the blood on his face, Julio leaves the meeting ignoring what he has seen because in his opinion everything has a reasonable explanation. The same night Julio gets a call from his old colleague “Captain Salanueva” (Carlos Sobera) from the Guardia Civil, who requests his presence in a murder scene. There are six corpses the officer wants him to analyze in a medieval church in the mountains, in a town named Senillas. He explains to his friend that apparently a young man named Ricardo has killed the victims in a bloodbath and committed suicide afterward. The bodies are partially burned in the fingers. The crime scene is illuminated with candles, and many religious relics and gowns are spread on the floor. Meanwhile, his girlfriend, Lidia, has been found in shock on the road after a car accident against a tree and in possession of drugs. The police are interested in talking to her, as she might have witnessed the murders and could help solve the case. But she cannot say a word and is admitted to a mental hospital, in which Julio comes to see her and collect information to solve the criminal case. She is believed to have taken the gun with which Ricardo is thought to have killed the other five individuals. She must have shot him or made him kill himself, as the weapon is missing. The reason for the shooting is not clear, but it is discovered that the other five deceased belonged to the same family—namely, the Chornets.

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The reading of Ricardo’s diary turns out to be very important in the development of the plot. The young man recounts his travel back to the town in which his family used to live. He has plans to move to the countryside to rehabilitate the home of his forbearers—that is, the Forqués. However, Ricardo is not welcomed by his only neighbors in the municipality—the Chornets—who warn him about the bad condition of the edifice of his ancestors. The inhabitants of the town realize a threat in the arrival of their new neighbor and react to his presence by blessing every object he touches and by praying the whole night. The opposition between the two clans is explained later in the film by “Uncle Miguel” (Agustín González). He reveals that their fighting goes back to an affair between the Forqué great-grandfather Liceo—a womanizer—and a Chornet girl called Eulalia. She became pregnant, but the father of the bride was not happy with this relationship and avenged the offense against his womenfolk and reputation by assassinating the male lover. The widow did not give birth to the child because Ricardo’s great-grandmother Montserrat poisoned her in her last months of pregnancy. Since then, both families have been attacking each other, and all the Forqués in particular have been dying out because of a death curse by the innocent baby. Another discussant of the conflict is an old man called “Liceo” (Txema Blasco), a former inhabitant of Senillas who left his hometown when the rivalry between the two enemies caused havoc among the population, thus obliging other families to emigrate. The elder man encourages Ricardo to settle down in his family house and claim the property of his grandparents. The Chornets have been taking advantage of the exile of their neighbors to become the owners of all the land. However, this animosity could have been resolved a long time ago if both sides had joined forces. Uncle Miguel confesses to Ricardo that people believed that there was a curse that would harm the two opposing factions unless a male Forqué and a female Chornet united in a marriage and a son was born. This marital union never happened. As a consequence, members of the Forqué family, such as aunts Pepita and Mercedes, have been dying in strange circumstances. These deaths have been announced by the crying of the baby who was never born. This curse ended up haunting Ricardo’s mother, Carmen, who committed suicide as well. Indeed, this dispute has been the reason for another multiple homocide in the past. A few years earlier, three members of the Forqué family and one girl from the clan of the Chornets died as victims of the curse. Now Ricardo understands that he needs to kill the survivors of the Chornets to fulfill an ancient curse and exterminate the clan of their opponents. The slaughter takes place in the old palace or mansion. The Chornets are in the middle of a celebration of a pagan rite in which they kill a pig and offer its blood in a shrine in a sort of black mass. Ricardo, who is suffering from hallucinations, a panic attack, or a bad reaction to his consumption of drugs, believes that his great-grandfather Liceo and his lover “Eulalia” (Rocío Muñoz Cobo) are accompanying him to the site of the ritual to help him complete the task by providing him with a gun. Upon his arrival, he begins to shoot those attending and assassinates his fellow neighbors. These crimes have been witnessed from outside by his girlfriend, Lidia, who had come back from a nearby town. In

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despair, while watching his girlfriend leaving him for good, Ricardo takes his life by shooting himself in the mouth. As a consequence, Lidia is remanded to the mental institution. At the end of the film, however, she recovers her sanity and decides to go to Senillas to burn the town down entirely and free herself from such a burden. The film sometimes turns out to be very confusing. There are many scenes that are not explained. For example, there is not a satisfying explanation for Julio’s ability to see the bodies of spirits such as Ricardo, Eulalia, and the old Liceo. Also, there is no reason why he should be able to hear the baby announcing the death of a Forqué, or why he can see the former lovers together, at several locations. Nevertheless, these little supernatural and magical encounters explain how the weapon disappeared in the hands of Eulalia. The film is interesting because it reflects on the origins of witchcraft and the witch craze in early modern Europe, demonstrating that most of the accusations were strictly the result of interpersonal tensions. Bibliography Andreu, Martín. La camisa del revés. Barcelona: Plaza y Janés, 1992.

—Jorge Abril Sánchez

PAGAFANTAS (FRIEND ZONE) (2009) Director: Borja Cobeaga Screenplay: Borja Cobeaga and Diego San José Specs: 80 minutes; color Pagafantas is a 2009 comedy film directed by Borja Cobeaga. It recounts the new life of a man in his late 20s who decides to dump his long-term girlfriend and take a shot as a womanizer. The film won the Critic and the Best Youth Screenplay awards at the Festival de Málaga, Cine en Español (Málaga Film Festival) in 2009. The plot of the film, set in Bilbao, revolves around the life of José María, or “Chema” (Gorka Otxoa), and his relationship with “Claudia” (Sabrina Garciarena), an undocumented Argentinian gal. The film is divided into four parts introduced by an animal comedy-documentary that explains the parallelism between the behavior of certain animals and humans. The introductory take explains “to do the cobra,” which is defined as the way a cobra attacks its prey. However, in this context, it means “to pull away from a kiss by leaning away.” It introduces Chema and his current situation. After splitting up with “Elisa” (Bárbara Santa-Cruz), Chema tries to do better with girls. However, he is neither successful at the “cobra” nor prosperous in life: he moves back in with his mother, “Gloria” (Kiti Manver). To his surprise, his bedroom is occupied by “Doña Begoña” (María Asquerino), a disabled elderly woman in a wheelchair, and he settles on the couch. Luckily, his uncle “Jaime” (Óscar Ladoire) employs him at his photoshop. One night, Chema meets Claudia. He promptly falls for her; the two become friends and spend time together. Despite “Ruben’s” (Chema’s old friend, played by Julián López) warnings about her, Chema would rather follow Jaime’s advice. His encouragement introduces the second part.

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Jaime recommends that Chema not let her, by any means, hug him, or he will get the “koala hug,” which can only mean one thing: that she wants to stay friends. Accordingly, “to do the koala” means that the girl sees her boyfriend as a teddy bear. This docu-comedy cut concludes with the worst possible followup of the “koala hug,” the “koala hug with pats on the back.” Unfortunately for Chema, he gets the “koala hug.” At this time, the parallelism between both couples, Chema and Claudia, and Jaime and Gloria, becomes apparent. At the end of this scene, Doña Begoña calls Chema a “pagafantas.” The third part of the film defines “pagafantas”—literally, a man who buys sodas for a girl expecting something more than friendship—that is, a relationship with sex—but ends up without it. Claudia not only invites Chema to stay over but lends him a pair of her pajamas and tells him to sleep in the same bed. At this moment, the last part begins: “the lemur.” Such an animal is compared to the position that a man who is attracted to, and respectful of, a woman adopts when they share a bed: static and wide-eyed. In no time, “Sebastián” (Michel Brown), her former boyfriend, appears and Claudia has a motorbike accident. Since she is an illegal alien, she is about to be deported to Argentina, but Chema marries her so that she can stay. However, she moves from Bilbao to Madrid with Sebastián. After a year, Chema, although noticeably unsatisfied, has the perfect life: he is dating his former girlfriend and has his old job back. Suddenly, Claudia appears at his birthday party. As soon as Elisa’s family learns about the wedding, they fly into rage and so does Chema. He takes Claudia to the airport, ready to throw her out. However, when he wakes up from drinking, he realizes that they are both flying to Argentina. The film ends with her patting him on the back. The film portrays Chema’s unrequited love for Claudia and his desperate optimism for being with her and willing to do anything to move beyond mere friendship. The comedy is full of clichés and exaggerated stereotypes. However, it dismounts the gender role at the friendship level—both Chema and Jaime sacrifice their own happiness and well-being, and become objectified by Claudia and Gloria, respectively. Men are depicted as dependent and weak, whereas women are strong and daring—especially Claudia—and in turn, are the origin of all conflicts. Yet, his cowardice makes Chema the one and only culprit. This situation is comparable to all who identify with Chema or Jaime, and shows that, regardless of age, everybody can be a “pagafantas.” —María Jesús López-Soriano

EL PENALTI MÁS LARGO DEL MUNDO (THE LONGEST PENALTY SHOT IN THE WORLD) (2005) Director: Roberto Santiago Screenplay: Roberto Santiago, based on a short story by Osvaldo Soriano Specs: 100 minutes; color El penalti más largo del mundo is Roberto Santiago’s second film and was nominated for Best Screenplay Adaptation in the 2006 Goya Awards. Although it was not successful with the film critics, it was considered a blockbuster feature and well received by Spanish audiences. The film is based on a true story set in

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Argentina in 1953—an account that was later turned into a short story by Argentinian writer Osvaldo Soriano. The film is a comedy built around Fernando Tejero’s character, a not-so-bright goalkeeper who, until that moment, hadn’t played a minute during the season. The narrative is very straightforward and follows a traditional Spanish sainete plot. Thus, while there is some social contextualization, giving little hints of the important issues of the moment such as immigration or unemployment, the film focuses on the different love stories between the characters related to the soccer team and the events that happened in the final game of the season. The film begins right at the end of the last game of the season between the Estrella Polar, a third division regional soccer team, and their archrival, Deportivo Butarque. The game becomes very tense due to a penalty call that may decide which team wins the league and moves up to the second division. All the Estrella Polar players protest the decision, but to no avail. In the play leading to an important penalty kick, “Román” (Benito Sagrado), the goalie, gets injured and has to be replaced by “Fernando” (Fernando Tejero), a lowlife drunk who is retiring after this last game. While getting ready to kick the penalty, the audience jumps into the field, forcing the suspension of the game and postponing the penalty kick until the following weekend. “Adrián” (Enrique Villén), president of the team and the owner of the grocery store sponsoring the soccer team, talks to Fernando to let him know that he has to work hard during the week to get ready to stop the penalty kick. The film develops four different storylines: two love triangles—one between “Cecilia” (Marta Laralde), the coach’s daughter, and the two goalies, Roman and Fernando, and another one between “Santos” (Carlos Kainowsky), the coach, “Khaled” (Luis Callejo), one of the players who is a Moroccan immigrant, and “Ana” (María Botto), Fernando’s sister—the distressed marriage of “Bilbao” (Fernando Cayo) and “Julia” (Cristina Alcázar); and, finally, the animosity between the two team presidents, Adrián from Estrella Polar and “Rodríguez” (Héctor Colomé) from Deportivo Butarque. The first love triangle evolves while Fernando is training to get ready to stop the penalty kick. He tells Santos that he likes his daughter, Cecilia, and that it could be beneficial for him to have a date with her. Santos agrees, but Cecilia is reluctant because she is in love with Roman. Little by little, Fernando wins Cecilia’s heart. The second love triangle progresses in a different way. Khaled has been going out with Ana for a very long time, but he has never proposed to her. When Ana feels that her relationship is not advancing, she leaves Khaled and starts dating Santos. Fernando intervenes and talks to Khaled, who then tells Ana that he will work on a plan to actually leave together and form a family. Although Ana does not believe that Khaled will be able to do what he says, he surprises her so much that she breaks up with Santos and returns to him. The problematic marriage relation between Bilbao and Julia is a result of Bilbao losing his job at a gas station several months earlier and not telling her. Bilbao has been pretending to go to work all this time until Julia finally realizes what is happening. Bilbao admits that he did not tell her right away because he

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felt bad and was waiting for the right moment. Just before the penalty kick, Julia forgives him and returns to their relationship. Although it is the least explicit in the film, the last storyline is the competitiveness between Rodríguez and Adrián. It is the backbone for the other storylines since it is directly related to the soccer game itself, wherein the two coaches are involved in some insider gambling. The issue gets resolved at the end of the film when Fernando cons Rodríguez, keeping the money Rodríguez offered him to allow the ball into the goal and then stopping the decisive penalty kick. —Luis Guadaño

LOS PEORES AÑOS DE NUESTRA VIDA (THE WORST YEARS OF OUR LIVES) (1994) Director: Emilio Martínez Lázaro Screenplay: David Trueba Specs: 100 minutes; color Set in the Madrid neighborhood of Lavapiés, The Worst Years of Our Lives takes a humorous yet realistic look at the love life of a young 20-something. The film’s opening scene—of the protagonist “Alberto” (Gabino Diego) trying to convince a girlfriend not to break up with him—sets the tone for this humorous yet poignant look at a young adult’s amorous ups and downs. Alberto is a true romantic who wants nothing more than to fall in love with the woman of his dreams, yet he seems to always stand in the shadow of his handsome yet quiet brother, “Roberto” (Jorge Sanz). In contrast to his attractive brother, Alberto is a somewhat awkward and skinny redhead who talks incessantly and wears his emotions on his sleeve. When a young painter named “María” (Ariadna Gil) comes onto the scene, Alberto quickly falls head over heels for her and the remainder of the film chronicles their relationship. The melodramatic plot regularly includes fantasy sequences as imagined by Alberto, which are integrated into the film seamlessly. An especially humorous one shows Alberto lying in bed between his love interest, María, and her current boyfriend, a married man named “Santiago.” Another structural device that adds unity to the plot are the intercalated scenes in which Alberto talks into his tape recorder, taking notes for the novel he plans to write. In addition to being the handsome, quiet type whom all women seem to be drawn to, Roberto is also praised by their father for having a serious job working in a bank, while he often admonishes Alberto, telling him that writing isn’t a profession and that he should get a real job. Following his father’s advice, Alberto replies to an ad that requests a native English speaker as a tutor for an adolescent girl. Alberto takes on the alter ego “Michael” in his new position, feigning an American accent when he speaks Spanish in the presence of the girl’s mother, which are some of the funniest scenes in the film. Another especially entertaining sequence of the film is the New Year’s Eve party that Alberto and Roberto throw in their flat while their parents toss and turn in the next room. During the party, one couple fumbles into the parents’ bedroom in order to find a comfortable spot for lovemaking, only to find the two parents lying in bed. Another

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notable melodramatic scene is one in which a television announcer chokes on the 12 grapes he has just stuffed into his mouth during the New Year’s Eve broadcast. Alberto and Roberto’s father owns a mattress shop, located adjacent to the family’s flat, where Alberto spends a night of lovemaking with María toward the end of the film. After they choose their bed, a guitarist in one of Alberto’s fantasy sequences serenades the two of them. The following morning, they are awakened when Alberto’s father arrives to open the shop; however, the two lovers manage to get dressed, grab their belongings, and sneak out without him seeing them. In the final scene of the film, we discover that the love between the two brothers trumps Alberto’s quest to find the woman of his dreams. As María boards a train headed for Paris, where she plans to study painting for the next six months, Alberto hands off the ticket he had supposedly purchased for himself to his brother, Roberto, but only after kissing María. The film’s screenwriter, David Trueba; producer, Fernando Trueba; and director, Emilio Martínez Lázaro, decided to work together on The Worst Years of Our Lives after the good synergy the three found when making Ama tu cama rica (1991). David Trueba wrote the screenplay while he was a student at the American Film Institute in Los Angeles and had the lead actors in mind as he composed the script. Martínez Lázaro credits the screenplay’s authenticity and imagination to Trueba’s youth (he was just 24 years old when he wrote it). Perhaps it isn’t surprising that the film contains so many tributes to film history, given that Trueba wrote it while he was in film school. Some of the key intertextual references include the title’s bow to William Wyler’s postwar melodrama The Best Years of Our Lives (1946); several scenes are reminiscent of Woody Allen’s best films; and the final scene is inspired by the end of Casablanca. The star-studded cast (Gabino, Jorge Sanz, and Ariadna Gil) may seem familiar to some given that these same three actors starred in the Oscar-winning Belle Epoque (1992, Fernando Trueba), a film set in Spain’s Second Republic that has reached the level of cult classic. The film was a commercial success when it was released, selling more than 700,000 tickets at the box office. It also received critical acclaim upon its release, being nominated for four Goya Awards, including Best Actor in a leading role and Best Original Screenplay. In the end it won top honors for just one category—Best Sound. See also Jorge Sanz (Appendix A) —Susan Walter

EL PICO (OVERDOSE) (1983) Director: Eloy de la Iglesia Screenplay: Eloy de la Iglesia and Gonzalo Goicoechea Specs: 105 minutes; color El pico (Overdose) is a 1983 film directed by Eloy de la Iglesia. It is considered one of the best movies of the “Cine Quinqui” (a term that could be translated into English as “Petty Thief Cinema”), a genre that developed in Spain at the end

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of the 1970s. The first film of this genre was Perros callejeros (Street Warriors), directed in 1977 by José Antonio de la Loma. The plot of this type of film revolves around the delinquency that emerges in the poor suburbs on the periphery of the industrial cities, usually caused by high levels of unemployment and often related to heroin addiction. The film tells the story of “Paco” (José Luis Manzano Agudo, a nonprofessional actor who became popular after playing in Eloy de la Iglesia’s film Navajeros) and his friend “Urko” (Javier García). Both live in Bilbao and belong to opposite worlds: Paco is the son of “Comandante Torrecuadrada” (José Manuel Cervino), a major of the Guardia Civil, the Spanish military police corps; while Urko is the son of a Basque nationalist politician, “Martín Aramendía” (Luis Iriondo). Both teenagers become best friends while attending the same academy. They hang out often and use drugs frequently, soon getting hooked on heroin. After some time, their addiction becomes uncontrollable, yet one day they decide to quit, going cold turkey. Unable to deal with the withdrawal, they try to rob their drug dealer, “El Cojo” (Ovidi Montllor). Everything goes wrong, and Urko ends up shooting El Cojo and his wife, “Pilar” (Marta Molins), with a gun that Paco stole from his father. From that moment, Paco's and Urko’s parents set their political differences aside and cooperate to protect their sons, hiding the crime and trying to convince them to undergo detoxification. In spite of their efforts, Urko finally dies of an overdose. After paying their last respects to Urko at the morgue, Comandante Torrecuadrada takes Paco to an isolated place next to the sea, where he throws away the gun and the rest of the heroin stolen from El Cojo, in that way eliminating any evidence that could be used against his son. Although receiving poor reviews, El pico became one of the biggest boxoffice hits in 1983—as moviegoers, not critics, carried the film’s success. Apart from this movie, Eloy de la Iglesia directed other successful films in the Quinqui genre, such as Navajeros (Knivers, 1980), Colegas (Pals, 1982), the sequel El pico 2 (Overdose 2, 1984), and La estanquera de Vallecas (The Tobacconist from Vallecas, 1987). See also La estanquera de Vallecas (The Tobacconist from Vallecas) —Alex Pinar

LA PIEL QUE HABITO (THE SKIN I LIVE IN) (2011) Director: Pedro Almodóvar Screenplay: Agustín Almodóvar and Pedro Almodóvar Specs: 120 minutes; color La piel que habito is the 18th feature film of celebrated Spanish director Pedro Almodóvar. Highlights of the film’s 24 wins and 65 nominations include recognition at the Cannes Film Festival and esteemed Goya Awards in Spain, in addition to a nod for Best Foreign Language Film at the Golden Globes. The film actually premiered in competition at the 64th Cannes Film Festival, where Almodóvar won the Youth award and José Luis Alcaine was awarded the Vulcain Prize for Technical Artist. In addition, Almodóvar was nominated for, although he did not

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win, the prestigious Palme d’Or, in addition to the Queer Palme. At the Goyas, the film won four awards: Best Lead Actress (Elena Anaya), Best New Actor (Jan Cornet), Best Original Score (Alberto Iglesias), and Best Makeup and Hairstyles (Karmele Soler, David Martí, and Manolo Carretero). It was also nominated at the Goyas for 11 additional awards: Best Lead Actor (Antonio Banderas), Best New Actress (Blanca Suárez), Best Director (Almodóvar), Best Adapted Screenplay (the brothers Almodóvar), Best Cinematography (Alcaine), Best Production Supervision (Toni Novella), Best Editing (José Salcedo), Best Sound (Iván Marín, Marc Orts, and Pelayo Gutiérrez), Best Special Effects (Reyes Abades and Eduardo Díaz), Best Costume Design (Paco Delgado), and Best Production Design (Antxón Gómez). The film is adapted from noir novelist Thierry Jonquet’s Mygale (1984), with significant plot twists enacted by Pedro and Agustín Almodóvar. Their adaptation centers on “Dr. Robert Ledgard” (Antonio Banderas), a plastic surgeon and scientist researching transgenesis, and his illicit research subject, “Vera” (Elena Anaya), who actually turns out to be “Vicente” (Jan Cornet), the young man who sexually violated Robert’s daughter, “Norma” (Blanca Suárez), causing the latter to have a mental breakdown and associate her father with the violation, as he was the one who found her. Midway through the film, in an artistically rendered fade in the montage in which Vicente’s face transforms into Vera’s, the audience comes to understand that Robert has performed a compulsory sex change on Vicente in retribution for the rape of his daughter. For his part, it appears that Vicente, although at first resistant to his new identity, eventually becomes utterly dependent on Robert, his Doctor Frankenstein, and accepts his identity as Vera. After Vera is violently raped by “Zeca” (Roberto Álamo), the son of the Robert’s maid, “Marilia” (Marisa Paredes), who turn out to be Robert’s illegitimate brother and his mother, Robert kills Zeca for his heinous act and comes to realize that he has fallen in love with his creation, Vera. Until this point, Vera has been locked away with only a few books, yoga exercises, and artwork to occupy her time and space, which is panoptically surveilled by Robert at all times through closed-circuit monitors, displaying the typical self-referentiality of the image expected of Almodóvar films. It is not for naught, however, that Vera finds her only solace in these small artistic comforts. It is her televised yoga instructor who reminds her that she has her own interior world, allowing her to store her identity as Vicente in the deep recesses of her psyche until it is possible for him to return to the surface. It is also her television that introduces her to the art of feminist sculptor Louise Bourgeois, who works through sex/gender identity in her oeuvre by playing with the female/feminine form with the “skin” textures used in her pieces. Likewise, Vera mimics her mentor’s endeavors in order to come to terms with her compulsory transformation and new feminine identity. In contrast to this dark period, once Robert recognizes his love for Vera, she is allowed out into the rest of the house and even into town. Robert and Vera are now a couple. Their fabricated “happiness” is interrupted, however, when one of Robert’s colleagues (Eduard Fernández) recognizes a photo of a “missing person” in the newspaper as Vicente, the young man that he operated on with Robert in the secluded enclave of El Cigarral, Robert’s home and private surgery center. Although Vera comes to Robert’s defense initially, she too

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catches a glimpse of Vicente’s (her own) image, after which she takes her revenge later that evening, murdering her captors, Robert and Marilia, and escaping El Cigarral, returning home to her/Vicente’s mother (Susi Sánchez) and her shopkeeper, “Cristina” (Bárbara Lennie). Although they do not immediately recognize Vera as Vicente, s/he recounts an anecdote about a dress that s/he and Cristina joked about right before s/he was abducted. It is obvious that Vera is indeed Vicente, but the film ends before the moment of recognition invades the scene. As such, the compulsory sex change performed on Vicente becomes the crux of the film. Relating this obligatory operation to contemporary Spain, it has been suggested that the violence that produces the sex change becomes a means to acknowledge how deeply the violence of the Spanish Civil War and its aftermath is etched on Spanish society. However, the sex change even more lucidly allegorizes the compulsory Europeanization of Spain during the Transition and into the 21st century. Much like the Spanish nation, Vicente is put through a process of transgenic “purification,” as Robert layers him in a second skin inhabited by porcine DNA, which in his mind is more “perfect”—softer, more supple, and sturdier—although overly oppressive to its host, Vicente. This is akin to the requisite “purification” of the political composition of Spanish society as it entered the European Union during the Transition, transforming its identity to a more “perfect” democratic identity, which has actually served to obscure oppressive neoliberal economic practices that led Spain to destitution and unemployment yet again after the crisis of 2008, coetaneous to Almodóvar’s filming of La piel. As such, the promise of the Transition is symbolically compared to the artificial “second skin,” as well as confining bodysuit, which Vicente is forced to wear in order to maintain his/her new identity as Vera. In typical, clever Almodovarian fashion, the auteur adapts this story of enforced transition from French author Jonquet, reinforcing his critique of the European model inflicted on Spain. Nonetheless, like the film’s denouement, no easy resolution is offered, and the audience is left to finish the tale. Will Vera return to being Vicente? Will Spain return to itself, freed from an oppressive relationship with Europe? If contemporary political events in Europe are any indication, Spain, as well as the other nations of the European Union, continues to grapple with the ending to this story. See also Los abrazos rotos (Broken Embraces); ¡Átame! (Tie Me Up! Tie Me Down!); Pedro Almodóvar (Appendix A); Carne trémula (Live Flesh); Hable con ella (Talk to Her); Kika (Kika); La mala educación (Bad Education); Marisa Paredes (Appendix A) Bibliography Cabello Ruiz, María Teresa. “Intertexualidad en La piel que habito: Louise Bourgeois según Pedro Almodóvar.” Revista de letras y ficción audiovisual 4 (2014): 34–46. D’Lugo, Marvin, and Kathleen M. Vernon, eds. A Companion to Pedro Almodóvar. Malden, MA: Wiley-Blackwell, 2013. Marcantonio, Carla. “Cinema, Transgenesis, and History in The Skin I Live In.” Social Text 33, no. 1 (March 2015): 49–70.

—Amanda Eaton McMenamin

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LA PLAGA (THE PLAGUE) (2013) Director: Neus Ballús Screenplay: Neus Ballús and Pau Subirós Specs: 85 minutes; color La plaga is a 2013 documentary directed by Neus Ballús. La plaga was her first long film and for which she received multiple national and international awards, including the 2013 Maria Award for Best Film at the Film Festival in Cali (Colombia), and the 2014 Opera Prima Award of the Association of Film Directors and Managers of Catalunya, among others. La plaga contains several stories seemingly unconnected with the exception that the action takes place in one single location, a Catalan village where we learn about the daily routine of different residents who all share the commonality of struggling with love, labor conditions, and life in general in 21st-century Spain. Although located in the suburbs of Barcelona, however, the rural setting represents many other villages across the country with similar issues, including suffocating summer weather and working conditions. The film is a docudrama that shows the marginal but real life of five disparate individuals who essentially act as themselves, and each of them has a particular crisis. Iurie Timbur is a Moldavian immigrant who trains for a regional wrestling competition; he has also been working for two years for Raül Molist, but he does not have a contract yet. Raül Molist is a struggling farmer who has no time to enjoy life and tries to save a crop spoiled by a cloud of white flies— hence the title The Plague. Rosemarie Abella is a new resident, who comes from the Philippines. She works as a nurse taking care of an elderly resident, but her real role in the film consists of providing tenderness to María Ros, who is short in stature but long in attitude. María Ros is without a doubt the most important character in the film and resembles a character drawn from a novel of magical realism. And the final character is Maribel Martí. She is a middle-aged prostitute whose life also represents a constant battle against the elements. If famous Catalan writer Josep Pla already mourned the downfall of the rural world, then director Neus Ballús re-examines the current situation of living in a Catalan village, and the outcome is anything but positive and idyllic. —Enrique Ávila López

PLANES PARA MAÑANA (PLANS FOR TOMORROW) (2010) Director: Juana Macías Screenplay: Juana Macías, Alberto Bermejo, and Juan Moreno Specs: 96 minutes; color Planes para mañana is a 2010 film directed by Juana Macías. She is one of the most experienced filmmakers of contemporary Spain. Her 10 short films as well as her first long movie have received more than 50 national and international awards. Her films have been selected in over 100 international film festivals around the world. In 2000 she received the Goya for Best Short Film for Siete

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cafés por semana, and in 2010 her Planes para mañana was nominated for two Goya Awards—Best New Director and Best New Actress (Aura Garrido). Like Patricia Ferreira, Macías combines her work as a cinema director with education. She teaches acting and screenplay writing at the Universidad Francisco de Vitoria and the Institute of Radio Television, both located in Madrid, where she was born. Macías is also a freelance filmmaker of documentaries, music videos, and advertising who owns her cinema production company, Teoponte PC, founded in 1995. Juana Macías belongs to the new generation of Spanish cinema directors who incorporate technology as well as feminism into their films. Planes para mañana was her first long film, and from the first sequences it can be noticed that technology becomes a constant element in her way of filming, but a feminist tone is added as well. In other words, Planes para mañana is not a film of technologythemed Hollywood-style films (like The Matrix or most films by Guillermo del Toro, to name just two examples). However, Macías thematizes the (in)communication of her characters through the use of technology itself. The mise-en-scène is intentionally realistic in Planes para mañana where technology also plays a key role since characters are normally seen chatting over cell phones and via webcams. This actually happens during the first scene of Planes para mañana. Also at the beginning of the film, the camera presents images of a pop music concert through a mobile phone where two adolescents share the content, and we are introduced to a young woman who has her own blog called “Mohicana & Rass.” Thus, technology constitutes an inherent part of the lives of these characters. Planes para mañana is an interesting film for three main reasons: first, for the leading role of four women who experience a particular event that subsequently will change their lives forever; second, it is a film of great sensitivity that can be interpreted from a gender perspective; and third, this film successfully applies new technologies to today’s Spanish cinema. The use of technology can be observed, for example, in the credit titles, which are similar to an Internet blog. Also, Macías inserts labels on-screen to report the date and time. Technology also has a prominent place in the final scenes, when “Mónica” (Aura Garrido) visits her dying father in the hospital, after having a car accident when her mom died. In this particular scene, technology is also presented throughout the whole sequence; first, when in a rage she initially wants to disconnect the cables that keep her father alive because he was abusive toward her mother, “Marian” (Ana Labordeta). Then, her mother appears in a kind of dream to tell her not to disconnect the machine that keeps her father alive because she expects more from her and she is better than that. Apart from the mother and daughter, two other women—“Inés” (Goya Toledo) and “Antonia” (Carme Elías)—have key roles in the movie where each of them will have to confront a particular day in which they have to choose between starting afresh or remaining without change. If the mother (Marian) embodies a woman who is having problems at work due to her abusive husband who visits her while she works in a bank, despite the advice of her daughter who tries to avoid it, the roles of Inés and Antonia also represent the difficulties that professional women in Spain have to face in the new millennium.

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Inés is presented in the movie in media res. That is, we do not know much about her at the beginning, except that she is a professional woman who has just realized that she is pregnant, but her boyfriend does not really care about it. The director places the camera in such a way that subverts the sequence of the pregnancy test in a sterile scene throughout with the use of technology and, more specifically, by the silences that cause various telephone conversations. In doing so, it is striking that the first phone conversation Inés has with her boyfriend is to tell him that she is pregnant. This laconic and sterile scene reflects the poor working conditions of many Spanish professional women, who often are forced to choose between motherhood and maintaining a professional career. The first image of Antonia, the fourth protagonist, is also interesting cinematically because she appears having dinner with her husband, which seems at first a normal situation. However, if we pay attention to technology, then it is noticeable that she is sitting at the table with headphones, suggesting a lack of interest in her husband. This isolation is emphasized by the fact that there is no dialogue between them, even though the camera presents a warm house with family photos, which at first glance gives the impression that it is a traditional good family. In the case of Antonia, this is exactly what is going to happen to her next. Antonia had an old boyfriend, “Brian” (Brendan Brice), who, after having an extramarital affair over 10 years ago, is back and calling her to declare that he has never been able to forget her despite having tried with many other women. Here again, the use of mobile phone conversations dictates the plot of Planes para mañana. Brian tells her that he has come to Madrid briefly to ask her to return with him to London. Antonia reveals the news first to her adolescent son “Raúl” (Adrián Marín), inviting him to go with her to London, and afterward to her husband. Here it is interesting the reaction of both men toward their mother/wife. The following scene can be interpreted from a feminist point of view, in the sense that it contains a criticism toward the reaction of many men, including husbands and sons. In this case, both son and husband only show selfishness and act “blindly” when it comes to understanding what their mother/wife really needs. These chauvinistic attitudes unfortunately represent a particular reality of Spain. That is, Spain remains the country with the highest rate of domestic violence in the European Union. Under this sociological context, Planes para mañana, as its title suggests, seems to propose a different way of making cinema, perhaps more feminist and in which technology is not used to distract but to force the viewer to question a particular situation, which in this case corresponds to four women who all need to make plans—plans for tomorrow to start afresh. —Enrique Ávila López

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PLENILUNIO (PLENILUNE) (2000) Director: Imanol Uribe Screenplay: Elvira Lindo and Antonio Muñoz Molina, based on the novel by the latter Specs: 111 minutes; color Plenilune is a 2000 drama thriller directed by Imanol Uribe. The film is an adaptation of the eponymous novel by Antonio Muñoz Molina published in 1997. Other books by this author have also been adapted to the screen with limited success. Pilar Miró directed Prince of Shadows (Beltenebros, 1991) and in the same year José Antonio Zorrilla released Winter in Lisbon. Both of them were police thrillers with an international cast that did not translate well in their attempt to duplicate the extremely successful literary texts by Muñoz Molina. Plenilune re-creates the police investigation of the rape and brutal murder of a little girl in a small town in Spain. It stars Miguel Ángel Solá, Adriana Ozores, and Juan Diego Botto in the leading roles. The protagonist is a middle-aged police inspector (Solá) who has spent most of his life in the Basque Country during the most virulent years of Euskadi Ta Askatasuna terrorism. He is starting a new life in this unnamed town, escaping from his alcohol problems, failed marriage, and the trauma of dealing with terrorism for 14 years. His wife (Charo López), now in a sanatorium, suffers from major depression as a result of the constant fear and death threats received during her time living in Bilbao. Imanol Uribe has directed most of his films in the Basque Country with a penchant for political cinema centered around ETA’s terrorism as the main subject. The Burgos Trial (1979), Escape from Segovia (1981), Mikel’s Death (1984), and Running Out of Time (1994) come to mind. His latest film, Far from the Sea (2015), also deals with Basque nationalism, ETA, and the consequences of violence in Euskadi. Juan Diego Botto stars as the vicious murderer who terrorizes this small community. Uribe uses the voice-over technique as an inner monologue to describe to the audience the dark inner workings inside the twisted mind of a child killer. Botto’s performance is more than adequate, but his monologues feel contrived and uninspired most of the time. The complexity of reproducing his psychological profile is evident since it falls into a series of repetitive clichés that do not facilitate the realistic depiction of this misogynistic, impotent, and remorseless murderer. The police inspector’s numerous interactions with the forensic “Doctor Ferreras” (Chete Lera) and “Father Orduña” (Fernando Fernán-Gómez), his former teacher and now confidant, are also crucial in the development of the protagonist and his intricate investigation of the crime. Those two characters assist the detective in examining both past and present in order to comprehend the case and to make sense of the protagonist’s troubled existence. One of the most memorable aspects of the film is the poignant love story that develops between the inspector and “Susana Grey” (Adriana Ozores). Ozores plays a very convincing role as a middle-aged schoolteacher trapped in the banal realities of living in a small town. Their mature romance captures the fear of solitude, anxiety, and new hope that a midlife relationship brings.

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Nevertheless, the police inquiry about the child abduction and murder is not as solid and developed as it should be. Therefore, the crime investigation, the inspector’s personal tribulations, the love story, and the terrorist account do not work well within the main narrative. The result is an unbalanced film that cannot successfully merge the different storylines in a clear and unified direction. Uribe has taken an ambitious approach in his effort to faithfully adapt the extreme complexity and richness of the novel to the screen. However, the screenplay captures the central ideas by Muñoz Molina as an exploration of the human experience through existential themes such as love, loneliness, death, and the nature of violence and evil. See also Días contados (Running Out of Time); Fernando Fernán-Gómez, (Appendix A) —Agustín Otero

¿POR QUÉ LO LLAMAN AMOR CUANDO QUIEREN DECIR SEXO? (WHY DO THEY CALL IT LOVE WHEN THEY MEAN SEX?) (1993) Director: Manuel Gómez Pereira Screenplay: Yolanda García Serrano, Manuel Gómez Pereira, Juan Luis Iborra, and Joaquín Oristrell Specs: 101 minutes; color ¿Por qué lo llaman amor cuando quieren decir sexo? is a 1993 romantic comedy/ drama directed by Manuel Gómez Pereira. It tells the story of a veteran erotic performer and a young slacker from a respectable Spanish family who initially team up as a pornography act but eventually fall in love. The film played at several film festivals and won the Best Supporting Actress award at the 1994 Goya Awards. Based on an original screenplay by Serrano, Pereira, Iborra, and Oristrell, ¿Por qué lo llaman amor cuando quieren decir sexo?, like many of the director’s films, uses sex for comedic, nonexploitive purposes. Similar to his 1995 film, Boca a boca, the sex work shown in this film is innocuous and a means to complicate a zany plot that includes dangerous bookies, a large debt, a fake wedding, and an impostor grandchild. The plot of the film revolves around “Gloria” (Verónica Forqué), an older adult actor who performs live sex shows in a variety of clubs and venues with her partner “Karim” (Fernando Valverde), an equally aged bisexual who lives with a musician boyfriend and three young sons. One night, before a show, Karim tells Gloria he cannot perform because one of his children has given him the mumps. Fearing Gloria will lose her position without a male performer, Karim introducers her to “Manu” (Jorge Sanz), a hunky 23-year-old who desperately needs money. After a well-received first performance, Gloria thinks she and Manu should continue to perform. As she suggests this, two men approach Manu and begin pushing him around, demanding to know when they are going to receive their payment. Manu promises that he will have it in 48 hours. Driving Gloria

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home, he tells her that he likes to play cards and is in debt for 200,000 pesetas. She takes pity on him and offers to help, but with several stipulations, including work commitment, an end to the gambling, and not falling in love. She also tells him that together she will be able to save enough money to start her own club where she will stage elaborate “artistic” sex shows. Gloria and Manu begin their partnership under the name “Carnal Fire” and book many venues, including clubs, theaters, and, eventually, a live news program where they are asked to perform a sadomasochistic routine in elaborate black leather costumes. While waiting to film, Manu becomes increasingly nervous at the sight of another guest on the show—a noted psychologist, “Enrique” (Fernando Guillén), who is also Manu’s father. Manu’s mother, “Sole” (Rosa María Sardá), is also there and it is only after Manu feigns illness and he and Gloria are out of costume do the parents see their son. Embarrassed by his new profession, Manu lies by telling his parents that he and Gloria are dating and that they are a musical act called “Carnal Fire.” Having not seen their son in three years, Enrique and Sole invite the “couple” to dinner that evening. Shortly before dining, Enrique and Sole argue. The father believes his son will simply ask for money and then disappear, while Sole is more compassionate, wanting only to have her son back in their lives. During the meal, Manu excuses himself and the parents press Gloria for information about their son. Gloria is a terrible liar, and in order to stop the barrage of questions, she decides to tell Enrique and Sole that she and Manu have a son together. When Manu returns, his parents ask to see their grandson, much to the young man’s confusion. This lie sets into motion a con that Manu devises to obtain a sizable amount of money from his parents. Gloria goes to Karim to ask to “borrow” his youngest son, Ali, to play her and Manu’s child. Days leading up to the parents’ visit, Gloria and Manu clean the apartment, remove nude photographs and paintings, and try to convince Ali that his name is now Enrique. When Manu’s parents arrive, they fuss over and take pictures of their “grandson” and tell their son they are willing to help financially with the child and his musical career. Later that evening, Manu tells Gloria his plan to bilk his parents out of enough money to pay off his bookies and fund Gloria’s club. They also both begin to realize they are starting to fall in love with each other. A few days later, Sole phones Gloria and tells her to visit their apartment. Meanwhile, Manu is in a pool hall with his bookies, who are impatiently waiting for their payment. Promising them that Gloria will arrive soon with the cash, Manu is unaware that his parents are telling Gloria they have changed their minds about handing over a large sum of money, unless a few stipulations are met. Gloria arrives without the money and tells Manu the proposition—they must marry and he needs to return to school, otherwise his parents will not help. The bookies punch Manu and threaten to kill him if they are not paid soon. Manu has no choice but to agree to his parents’ terms. Sole and Enrique have rented a lush apartment for the couple, and over the course of several weeks, Gloria begins to think that she and Manu could make the situation work. She subtly asks him if he would mind staying together; he says that it is an absurd idea, yet still maintains that he loves her. One Sunday,

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after church, however, Manu is reunited with a beautiful girl from his past and invites her and a group of old friends out to a bar. He insists that Gloria come with him, but she is reluctant because she can see Manu is interested in this other woman. That evening, while at the bar, an announcement is made about the evening’s entertainment: an erotic dancer. A woman goes on stage and removes her clothes, swaying to the music while the crowd is less than enthusiastic. One of Manu’s friends says how awful of a life that must be, which clearly annoys Gloria, who storms out of the club. The next morning is the day of the wedding. Gloria wears a beautiful dress and jewelry. Manu stumbles into the room, still drunk from the night before, and claims he won a large sum of money by playing cards. This is the last straw for Gloria, who tells Manu the charade is over and that she is leaving. He slaps her and she runs out of the room and into the path of Manu’s parents, who are eager to have their son married. Gloria tells them everything, from their careers in porn to the truth about their “grandson.” This shocks the parents into silence. Gloria takes Ali and leaves. Months later, Gloria is back in Madrid performing solo peepshows. One night, shortly before Christmas, Manu comes to the club and enters her booth. After asking how Gloria’s career has been, she tells him she is working with a new man but that he is not nearly as talented as Manu. He then gives her an envelope filled with money to repay her for everything she ever lent him. She quickly disappears when the lights fade, leaving Manu alone looking distraught. He leaves the club and enters a car where his parents wait for him. His mother wants to leave immediately because the nature of the club and its patrons disgust her. This makes Manu mad and he tells her to be quiet because she does not know anything about the lives Gloria or her clients live. A few weeks later, Gloria is about to start a routine with her new partner, but Manu walks out instead. Shocked, Gloria tells him he needs to leave, but he insists on staying as he grabs her neck and kisses her passionately. The film ends with the two affirming their love, while an audience of anonymous men watch on. See also Jorge Sanz (Appendix A) Bibliography Jordan, Barry, and Rikki Morgan-Tamosunas. Contemporary Spanish Cinema. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1998.

—Jonathan Clark

•  Q • ¿QUÉ HACE UNA CHICA COMO TÚ EN UN SITIO COMO ÉSTE? (WHAT’S A GIRL LIKE YOU DOING IN A PLACE LIKE THIS?) (1978) Director: Fernando Colomo Screenplay: Jaime Chávarri and Fernando Colomo Specs: 85 minutes; color ¿Qué hace una chica como tú en un sitio como éste? is a 1978 film directed by Fernando Colomo. The film tells the story of “Rosa” (Carmen Maura), a divorced hairdresser and mother who is introduced into the nightlife of La Movida Madrileña. A cult classic, ¿Qué hace una chica como tú en un sitio como éste? is an iconic representation of the Madrid subculture of the late 1970s—which celebrated the pursuit of pleasure through sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll—while depicting many of the social tensions that characterized Spanish culture immediately after the dictatorship. The plot of the film revolves around Rosa’s relationships with “Jorge” (Félix Rotaeta), her ex-husband, and “Tony” (Antonio Canal), her hip new love interest. The film opens with Tony performing at an underground rock concert before cutting to the eviction of a lower-class family. Tony insults the police officers as they arrest the family and he is taken away with them. With Tony’s bail set at 20,000 pesetas, the band’s guitarist tries to procure the sum with the help of his girlfriend, “Marta” (Marta Fernández Muro), who works in Rosa’s hair salon. Marta’s attempts to discuss the matter with Rosa are interrupted by the arrival of Jorge, who is dressed as Mandrake the Magician. The guitarist sees Jorge extort cash from Rosa, and the band follows Jorge, stealing the money: 20,000 pesetas. The next day, Tony goes to the salon and requests a cut even though the salon is for women. Attracted by Tony’s sexual assertiveness, Rosa agrees. To pay, Tony extorts money from customers; Rosa returns the money to him, saying it’s free. Meanwhile, Jorge, who is an ex-police officer, crashes a gathering of his former colleagues, who practice shooting in front of their wives and children. When “Héctor” (Héctor Alterio) confiscates Jorge’s pistol, Jorge insults them all, claiming they’ve become soft. During his tirade, Jorge insinuates that they were involved in police repression during the dictatorship, of which he remains proud. That night, Marta brings Rosa to one of Tony’s concerts. Undercover, Héctor bumps into Rosa while investigating the place and asks her what a girl like her is doing in a place like this. He drives her home and expresses his long-standing feelings for her. When Héctor drops Rosa off at her apartment, Tony is waiting under the pretext that she ran off with the vapor cigarette he handed to her after the concert. They flirt before she enters the building, alone. The police attempt to stop a demonstration of schoolchildren protesting speculation and demanding that a plot of land beside their school be converted 315

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into a park. Rosa’s son, “Jorgito” (Santiago Chamorro), taunts his classmates and tells a police officer to draw his gun. That evening, Jorge shows up at Rosa’s apartment with gifts, including a toy pistol for Jorgito. Rosa lets Jorge stay for dinner. Afterward, Jorge wields the gun as he rapes Rosa in the kitchen. Tony’s band—based on the legendary Spanish rock group Burning—rehearses a new song called “¿Qué hace una chica como tú en un sitio como éste?” Rosa interrupts the rehearsal to return Tony’s vapor cigarette. She invites him back to her apartment, where Tony tells her about his life, including clashes with the police, before they make love in the bathroom. Informed of Rosa’s new lover by Jorgito, Jorge snatches the kids away from Rosa. Later, Rosa calls Jorge and invites them back home for a dinner that will reunite them as a family. During the meal, Jorge—once again dressed as Mandrake—chastises his daughter while praising Jorgito; Rosa tells her to obey her father. The dinner is a parody of patriarchal norms that mocks Francoist gender roles. After they put the kids to bed, Rosa tells Jorge she has a surprise for him, leading him to the hair salon. There, Rosa unveils a toupee that makes the balding Jorge look like Mandrake. She instructs Jorge to sit under the hooded hair dryer so she can sculpt the toupee. When he does, Rosa pours a glass of champagne over the dryer, electrocuting Jorge. She places Jorge’s corpse in the back of her car and bumps into Héctor before driving to the plot of contested land near the school. The next morning, a schoolteacher announces that they won the fight to convert the space into a park. The film ends with Rosa among delirious fans while Tony sings “¿Qué hace una chica como tu en un sitio como éste?” to her. See also Los años bárbaros (The Stolen Years); Ópera prima (Opera Prima) —Scott Boehm

¿QUÉ HE HECHO YO PARA MERECER ESTO? (WHAT HAVE I DONE TO DESERVE THIS?) (1984) Director: Pedro Almodóvar Screenplay: Pedro Almodóvar Specs: 101 minutes; color ¿Qué he hecho yo para merecer esto? combines melodramatic, neorealist, and surrealist conventions to tell the story of an overwhelmed, unhappy housewife on the periphery of Madrid during the 1980s. Carmen Maura won the Fotograma de Plata for Best Movie Actress in 1985, and a year later, Verónica Forqué was presented with the Best Supporting Actress award in the Premios ACE celebrated in New York. “Gloria” (Carmen Maura) tries to keep her family emotionally and economically afloat. Her husband, “Antonio” (Ángel de Andrés), is a taxi driver with a gift for forging any handwriting. “Tony” (Juan Martínez), their teenage boy, deals drugs to save money to move to the village. His younger brother, “Miguel” (Miguel Ángel Herranz), is a homosexual boy who sells himself to older men.

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“Blasa” (Chus Lampreave), Antonio’s mother, lives with them and continually complains about Madrid’s weather, yearning to return to her hometown. In the same building, the family has a close relationship with “Cristal” (Verónica Forqué), a prostitute whose dream is to move to the United States. During the first sequence, Gloria has a brief sexual encounter with “Polo” (Luis Hostalot), one of the patrons at the gym that she cleans. Since Antonio’s salary is not enough to provide for the family, Gloria works cleaning houses in addition to taking care of her own house. This causes stress that she tempers with prescription drugs. One afternoon, she takes Miguel to the dentist, played by Javier Gurruchaga. He confesses that he likes children and proposes to adopt him. Gloria advises her son to stay, as the dentist will be able to provide the necessities that he lacks at home. While at first this seems to be an unconventional yet generous offer, she accepts money that she later uses to purchase a hair iron. The same evening, Cristal proposes that Gloria earn some extra cash by helping with a client who likes to be observed while having sex. “Lucas” (Gonzalo Suárez), for whom Gloria works and coincidentally met Antonio in the taxi at the beginning of the film, comes home to return Gloria’s watch. In actuality, he wants to talk to Antonio because he knows about his forgery skills. Lucas is writing the apocryphal memoirs of Hitler and he wants Antonio to handwrite them so that they are considered authentic. Even though Antonio rejects the proposal, Lucas is determined to continue with the con. Accompanied by his wife, they inebriate his brother, “Pedro” (Emilio Gutiérrez Caba), in spite of being a recovering alcoholic. They ask him for money to travel to Berlin to translate Hitler’s memoirs. Pedro also rejects the idea and they steal his Rolex watch and gold cigarette case when Pedro is unconscious. Upon arriving in Berlin, Lucas visits “Ingrid Muller” (Katia Loritz), who is attempting to commit suicide. After stopping her, Lucas explains that he needs her to convince Antonio, who was Ingrid’s chauffeur and is in love with her, to forge the memoirs. Ingrid calls Antonio to announce that she is coming to Madrid. An aggravated Gloria witnesses the conversation. Later on, Antonio and Gloria argue when he enthusiastically informs her that he is picking up Ingrid from the airport. During the discussion, she strikes him with the bone of a cured ham. As he falls down, he hits his head and dies. In order to create an alibi, she goes to “Juani’s” (Kiti Manver) apartment. After a few minutes, Cristal and Gloria return to the apartment. They discover Antonio’s body and call the police. The two detectives cannot find the weapon because Gloria has put the bone in a stew. At the same time, Lucas and Patricia are at the airport waiting for Ingrid, who has, in turn, committed suicide, as they read in a newspaper. Lucas phones Antonio’s home to learn that he is also dead. Gloria is suddenly alone because Tony decides to move to the village with his grandmother. Again at the gym, Gloria runs into Polo, the lead investigator in Antonio’s death. In the course of the conversation, she confesses the crime, but Polo does not believe that a woman is capable of committing such a crime. In the last sequence, Gloria walks home crying after saying goodbye to Tony and Blasa. She finds the apartment completely empty, walks to the terrace, and, when it seems

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that she is going to jump, Miguel appears on the screen and waves. He has decided to return home. See also Pedro Almodóvar (Appendix A); La ley del deseo (Law of Desire); Carmen Maura (Appendix A); Mujeres al borde de un ataque de nervios (Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown); Tacones lejanos (High Heels) Bibliography Téllez-Espiga, Enrique. “Una posmodernidad redentora: Madrid como liberación de Gloria en ¿Qué he hecho yo para merecer esto? de Pedro Almodóvar.” Iberoromania 75–76 (2012): 267–82.

—Enrique Téllez-Espiga

¿QUIÉN PUEDE MATAR A UN NIÑO? (WHO CAN KILL A CHILD?) (1976) Director: Narciso Ibáñez Serrador Screenplay: Narciso Ibáñez Serrador (as Luis Peñafiel), based on a novel by Juan José Plans Specs: 112 minutes; color ¿Quién puede matar a un niño? is the second film directed by Narciso Ibáñez Serrador, one of the most gifted and creative masters of Spanish horror cinema and television. The screenplay, which the filmmaker wrote using the nom de plume Luis Peñafiel, is loosely based on El juego de los niños (1976), a novel by Juan José Plans. ¿Quién puede matar a un niño? revolves around two thorny issues that are still taboo nowadays: violence against children and, on the opposite side, child wickedness. The film starts with a short documentary that shows several images related to genocides and war crimes such as the Auschwitz concentration camp or the Vietnam War. The images are accompanied by a male voice-over who tells the main consequences of these historical deeds and by some subtitles pointing to the number of war casualties, especially children. In fact, this harsh documentary puts an emphasis on the suffering of children. The pictures of illness and mutilation give way to a frame of a crowded beach in Benavís, a fictional village in eastern Spain. Suddenly, this summer landscape is disturbed by the discovery of a body floating in the sea, the corpse of a tourist woman with her throat cut. At the same time that an ambulance takes the body away, “Evelyn” (Prunella Ransome) and “Tom” (Lewis Fiander) arrive in Benavís from the United Kingdom. Evelyn is seven months pregnant with her third son and, before giving birth, she and her husband want to go on holiday. Benavís is celebrating its annual festival, so the couple spends the day watching the fireworks, the carnival, and the kids playing piñata. Nevertheless, weary of the noisy and crowded village, they make the decision to advance Tom’s trip to Almanzora, an isolated island that he visited 12 years earlier. While Evelyn and Tom are getting ready for their trip, the atmosphere that surrounds them becomes increasingly strained. When they go into a camera

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shop, Evelyn watches on television some news about people setting themselves on fire and about the Thailand War. The clerk (Fabián Conde) says that the world is crazy and that worst of all, children always take the rap. Tom, who speaks some Spanish, agrees, while Evelyn does not understand anything. Later, they witness a great stir in the beach, probably due to the finding of another body in the sea. Finally, at night, Evelyn asks Tom what is wrong because he appears to be worried. Despite his reluctance, Tom reveals that he has been thinking about the comment of the clerk regarding children. Evelyn says that he wanted to kill him, touching her prominent belly, pointing to the baby she is expecting. Tom acknowledges it, but also replies that now he wants the baby. While the couple is going to sleep, the camera focuses on the newspaper that Tom has been reading, particularly on a headline that announces the finding of two bodies on the coast. The next morning, Tom and Evelyn take the boat that the postman of Benavís (Luis Ciges) provides them to go to Almanzora. However, after four hours of navigation, they have several inklings that there is something wrong on the island. First, the boys they meet in the quay have a very strange behavior. Second, the main square and the streets of Almanzora are empty. Third, the closest bar seems to have been abandoned in a hurry. Tom is going to look for food in a nearby grocery while his wife, starving and burning up from the heat, remains in the bar. Suddenly, Evelyn sees a girl entering the premises who has a perturbing attitude: the girl smiles quietly all the time and touches the belly of Evelyn. Then she leaves the bar even though Evelyn asked her to stay. Meanwhile, Tom looks over the shelves of the grocery, taking some cans of food, unaware of the fact that there is a corpse on the other side of the shop. Later, the couple goes to the only inn on the island, but this is empty as well. Furthermore, Tom and Evelyn find clear evidence that they are in danger. From the reception of the inn, they see a lonely old man walking down the street, but suddenly a little girl takes his cane and beats him. Shocked, Tom reaches the girl, shouting and asking why is she doing this, to which she responds with laughter and runs away. Tom puts the body of the old man in a straw loft and leaves the warehouse to come back to the inn. However, he hears a choir of children’s laughs and retraces his steps. Then he sees a grotesque picture: a group of boys and girls has hung the corpse of the old man and are playing piñata with him. Up until this point, the film had been following the patterns of mystery cinema, but from this moment on it also becomes a horror movie. Thus, Tom finds the bodies of two tourists in the inn and the corpse of a woman in the sacristy of the church being undressed by a group of children. On the other hand, Evelyn and Tom meet a man (Antonio Iranzo) who tells them tearfully how the night before last children started to kill adults. The man took a shotgun but, like all other people in the island, he couldn’t do anything about it, asking, “Who can kill a child?” Just when the man concludes the telling of the story, his daughter enters the inn, crying and begging him for help. Moved, he goes away with her, eventually being killed by the children. Hereafter, all of Evelyn and Tom’s efforts are focused on leaving Almanzora. However, the couple has opposite points of view about the children of the island: Evelyn cannot believe they are so sadistic and prevents Tom from running over several of them, whereas he does not regret killing a boy of four or five years

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old. Unfortunately, both Evelyn and Tom lose their lives. Evelyn dies a horrible death: she feels a strong pain in her womb and remembers the girl who touched her belly. Tom is shot by a Coast Guard officer (Miguel Narros) who watches him beating a group of children fiercely without realizing what is going on, and ultimately, the officer and his crew are also killed by the boys. The film ends with a scene that shows some of the children making plans and going to Benavís by boat, as if they want to conquer the world little by little. In a nutshell, ¿Quién puede matar a un niño? is a unique piece in Spanish cinema due to its perfect mixture of mystery and horror, shot with mastery by Narciso Ibáñez Serrador. Indeed, according to the filmmaker, he was partly inspired by The Birds (Alfred Hitchcock, 1963). The soundtrack, composed by Waldo de los Ríos, and the fact that most of the scenes take place in broad daylight are two remarkable features of the movie as well. Lastly, Ibáñez Serrador made a wise choice not explaining the reason why the children of Almanzora become bloodthirsty killers. Despite the characters’ struggle to find some rational explanations (revenge, madness, biological evolution), this experience remains a disturbing enigma in the mind of the audience. Bibliography Plans, Juan José. El juego de los niños. Madrid: La Página, 2011. Savater, Fernando, and Sara Torres. “Narciso Ibáñez Serrador.” In Cine fantástico y de terror español (1900–1983), edited by Carlos Aguilar, 191–256. San Sebastián: Donostia Kultura/Semana de Cine Fantástico y de Terror, 1999.

—Rebeca Martín

15 AÑOS Y UN DÍA (15 YEARS AND ONE DAY) (2013) Director: Gracia Querejeta Screenplay: Gracia Querejeta and Antonio Santos Mercero Specs: 90 minutes; color 15 años y un día is a 2013 film directed by Gracia Querejeta, who dedicates this movie to the memory of her father, Elías Querejeta, a key film producer in the cinema industry of Spain during Franco’s time and the transition out of his dictatorship. 15 años y un día received the 2013 Best Film award in the Málaga Film Festival, and was Spain’s selection to represent the 2014 Academy Awards for the Foreign Language category, but it did not make the short list. 15 años y un día portrays the story of “Jon” (Arón Piper), a rebellious 15-yearold teenager who is expelled from school for three months because of his bad behavior, largely due to not adjusting well to the loss of his father. His widowed mother, “Margo” (Maribel Verdú), does not know how to handle her son, and she is also frustrated with herself because of the instability of her professional career as an actor with hardly any major roles. First attempting to deal with Jon by asking her mother, “Cati” (Susi Sánchez), to stay with them for three months, she later discovers that Jon is unpredictable and even violent, evidenced by his

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Arón Piper and Maribel Verdú. © Photofest

involvement in killing the neighbor’s dog. Furious about this incident, Margo sends Jon to live with his grandfather, “Max” (Tito Valverde), an ex-military soldier who served in Bosnia, now retired and living on his own in Alicante. Jon strives to fit in among his new surroundings, making friends, establishing enemies, and ultimately finding no easy answers in navigating life under these circumstances. At times confused and reckless, and at others holding steadfast to the morals and lessons instilled in him by his brief upbringing, Jon eventually finds himself learning about the realities of life in all of its candor. The film is a coming-of-age drama filled with examples of the growing pains linked to both adolescence and parenting. Unique in its cinematographic style—some critics even compare it to works by Pedro Almodóvar—15 años y un día provides an interesting glimpse of Spain and Spanish society, as well as the norms, values, and cultural manifestations that drive the institution of the Spanish family. Querejeta leaves no stone unturned, challenging the often universally righteous imagery of family members and the motives of those charged with holding the bonds that bind them in place. See also Cuando vuelvas a mi lado (By My Side Again); Felices 140 (Happy 140); Héctor (Hector); Els nens salvatges / Los niños salvajes (The Wild Ones); Gracia Querejeta (Appendix A)

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Bibliography Nelmes, Jill, and Jule Selbo. Women Screenwriters: An International Guide. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2015.

—Enrique Ávila López

•  R • RASTRES DE SÀNDAL / RASTROS DE SÁNDALO (TRACES OF SANDALWOOD) (2014) Director: María Ripoll Screenplay: Anna Soler-Pont, based on the novel by Asha Miró and Anna SolerPont Specs: 95 minutes; color Rastres de sàndal is a 2014 film directed by María Ripoll. It is based on the novel of the same title (2007) written by Asha Miró and the literary agent Anna SolerPont. The latter is also the producer of the Pontas Literary and Film Agency, and Rastres de sàndal was her first feature-length film. There is no doubt that there is a strong presence of women in this movie, not only in the content of the film but also in the whole technical crew (as shown in the credits). Hence Rastres de sàndal constitutes an intentional attempt to increase the visibility of women in the cinema industry. In this regard, María Ripoll represents the new cinema made in Spain by women. Another factor that is really highlighted at the beginning of the movie is the willingness of the director to show another culture besides the typical Spanish setting in a Spanish movie. In doing so, Rastres de sàndal breaks with the traditional pattern of filming exclusively in one single location, becoming an example of transnational cinema, which explores interculturalism and also deals with universal feelings. The plot of Rastres de sàndal is the story of “Mina” (Nandita Das), a famous Indian actor who was violently separated from her small sister, “Sita” (Aina Clotet), when they were very little. Since then, she has been searching for Sita, and some of Mina’s famous Bollywood movies even reflect her loss and lack of childhood. Another interesting sequence in the movie is when Mina finds Sita, who has become a prestigious biologist in Barcelona but ignorant of the fact that she was adopted because her parents never told her. Once she discovers that is true and that she possesses a different identity, her small world will collapse—she actually faints in one scene. From the initial drama, the film then will become a romantic story when Sita falls in love with an Indian guy who works in a shop in Barcelona. However, the main message of the movie consists of presenting a Spanish citizen who learns how to embrace more than one identity. Rastres de sàndal is a fusion of cultures. The film was shot in two major cities, Mumbai and Barcelona, exemplifying that the new cinema of Spain also contains elements of multiculturalism. See also Katmandú, un espejo en el cielo (Kathmandu Lullaby) —Enrique Ávila López

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LAS RAZONES DE MIS AMIGOS (FRIENDS HAVE REASONS) (2000) Director: Gerardo Herrero Screenplay: Ángeles González Sinde, based on the novel La conquista del aire by Belén Gopegui Specs: 93 minutes; color The third novel written by Belén Gopegui and published in 1998, titled La conquista del aire, was remade as a movie in 2000 by director Gerardo Herrero with the title Las razones de mis amigos. The alternative title Ambición sin límites is used occasionally in Spain. The film was awarded the Premio Especial del Jurado at the film festival in Valladolid, Spain, in 2000. The plotline of the film centers on the lives of three friends, “Santiago” (Joel Joan), “Marta” (Marte Belaustegui), and “Carlos” (Sergi Calleja), who meet while studying at a university in Spain in the 1990s. At the beginning of the film, Carlos asks his two friends for a loan to help grow his business. Both Santiago and Marta lend him a total of eight million pesetas, or around €50,000 today. However, as their lives progress, Carlos’s business fails and he does not repay them. None of the three friends ever speak about the unfulfilled promise of repaying the borrowed money. The underlying strain that the unpaid loan constructs is palpable in visual and musical techniques as well as in the development of the characters and their conversations and interactions in the film. As the film progresses, Carlos, Marta, and Santiago grow apart emotionally, but they repeatedly manage to see one another for brief encounters. During these meetings, they do not have much to discuss and their conversations are superficial. They seem to be grasping for topics to talk about as they all vacillate between being courteous and friendly and revealing too many private details about their personal lives. As the story goes on, it becomes clearer that the peak of their friendship was when they shared the common experience of being university students. The strong base of friendship did not create an enduring relationship, yet the three keep forcing interactions with one another. They continue to hold onto the past even as their lives advance on different paths. This yearning for the past, for something that one can never have back or experience again, highlights nostalgia and reveals a strong tension between presence and absence. The three characters are never able to regain the strength of their friendship because of the nature of the passage of time. Life in the city for these young adults is highlighted in the film: drugs and alcohol, sexual encounters, and loss and failure in their personal lives and professional careers frame their experiences in the world as 20-somethings. The film articulates that which is often difficult to communicate: the experience of a collective group via individual and subjective perspectives. While magisterial control of written language enables Gopegui in La conquista del aire to develop the intricate ad intimate details of each character as they grapple with the proverbial “elephant in the room,” or the money that Carlos borrowed and never repaid, the visual shots of the urban space paired with close-up, intimate camera perspectives in the film aid the telling of the story and development of the characters. The three characters in the film repeatedly fail to connect with one another, and

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the visual and musical techniques emphasize the awkwardness of their forced interactions. Carlos, Marta, and Santiago are never able to “clear the air,” as the title of Gopegui’s novel suggests, in regard to the repaying of the debt and moving on either as friends or not. Empty meaning and false interactions conclude the film. Carlos, Marta, and Santiago separately establish their lives by the end of the story. Fifteen years pass and the loan is never mentioned again. In the last scene of the movie, they meet at an outdoor café to share drinks. Their attempt at conversation is excruciatingly forced. The three leave the meeting with fleeting plans to meet for dinner in the autumn. Viewers question if they will, in fact, meet again, or if their gettogether at the café was the last time they will see one another. The past is only holding on by a thread, and none of the three friends are able (or willing) to cut the last tie that connects them. See also Los aires difíciles (Rough Winds); Silencio en la nieve (Frozen Silence) —Jennifer Brady

[REC] (REC) (2007) Directors: Jaume Balagueró and Paco Plaza Screenplay: Jaume Balagueró, Luis Berdejo, and Paco Plaza Specs: 78 minutes; color [Rec], a horror film directed by Jaume Balagueró and Paco Plaza, is one of the most successful movies of recent Spanish cinema. In fact, it has three sequels— [Rec]2 (Balagueró and Plaza, 2009), [Rec]3: Genesis (Plaza, 2012), and [Rec]4: Apocalypse (Balagueró, 2014)—as well as an American remake, Quarantine (2008), filmed by John Eick Dowdle (2008). [Rec] won several awards, particularly the Best Director and the Best Actress awards in the Sitges Film Festival (2007). The film belongs to the subgenre of found footage, in which fictional events are presented as if they were video recordings shot by one of the characters in order to make the audience believe that these events are true. The plot of [Rec] revolves around a television reporter, “Ángela Vidal” (Manuela Velasco), and her cameraman, “Pablo” (Pablo Rosso), who both work for the Barcelona TV show While You Are Asleep. The night in which the action takes place, Ángela and Pablo are making a documentary in a fire station. Although Ángela pretends to be interested in the day-to-day life of the firemen, she cherishes the hope of shooting a stunning tragedy for her audience. Finally, the firefighters receive a call in the middle of the night. They must deal with an apparently harmless situation: saving an old woman from her flat. Ángela and Pablo escort “Manu” (Ferran Terraza) and “Álex” (David Vert) to the building where several residents and two police officers are already waiting for the firefighters. It seems that the old woman, named “Conchita,” has fallen to the ground and cannot move. Then the firefighters and the policemen go upstairs to Conchita’s apartment, followed by Ángela and Pablo. After breaking the door, they see a woman, with her underwear covered in blood, standing at the end of the corridor. Manu orders Pablo to stop recording, but Ángela whispers to the

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cameraman to keep shooting. The eldest of the policemen (Vicente Gil) tries to calm Conchita, who suddenly pounces on him, biting and ripping his neck. Shocked, Ángela shouts that they have to tape everything. They run downstairs with the injured man, thinking of calling an ambulance, when they learn that the entrance of the building is completely blocked by the Special Forces. From the street, a man tells them through a megaphone that the decision of sealing off the building has been made by the health authorities for safety reasons. The same spokesperson asks for their cooperation and gives them strict orders to stay in the hall. In addition, he points out that the police officer will be the contact between the authorities and the residents. This announcement makes some of the neighbors desperate, especially a woman (María Lanau) whose little daughter, “Jennifer” (Claudia Silva), appears to have tonsillitis. While the anxiety overpowers the neighbors, Álex, who had remained upstairs, falls down the stairwell, severely wounded. The young policeman (Jorge-Yamam Serrano), Ángela, and Pablo then return to Conchita’s flat in order to find out what happened only to get attacked again by the old woman, which forces one of the officers to shoot her down. They struggle to keep the injured alive while looking for an exit with the help of “Guillem” (Carlos Vicente), who is in charge of the building. The policeman makes Pablo stop recording, but Ángela says that they need people to know what it is happening. Indeed, she and Pablo start recording the neighbors’ feelings and the strange facts they are enduring. For instance, a little girl, “Jennifer,” tells Ángela that she misses her dog, Max, who got sick and now is at the veterinary clinic. One of the most ridiculous and even funny statements comes from “César” (Carlos Lasarte), an Argentinean man in his 60s who blames his Chinese neighbors just because they are foreigners. At last, the policeman announces that a health inspector is going to enter the building. The health authorities believe that there is a virus inside, so the inspector will get a sample from everybody in the building and then the Special Forces will let them out. Puzzled, Pablo sees the inspector, assisted by Guillem and the policeman, handcuff the wounded and give an injection to Álex. Suddenly, the injured ones attack Guillem, whereas the rest of them save themselves with the help of Ángela and the cameraman. Then, the inspector remarks upon what is likely the focus of the infection. Yesterday, he says, a veterinarian called the health authorities because one of his patients had an unknown disease. The dog slipped into a coma and a few moments later came back in an extraordinarily aggressive state, attacking other pets. The inspector points out that the animal, which had to be put to sleep, came from this building and was named Max. At that moment, the neighbors realize that he is talking about Jennifer’s pet. While they are staring at the little girl, she attacks her mother and runs upstairs. From this moment on, the situation becomes absolutely chaotic, with the virus spreading through the building. One by one, all the healthy people who are inside suffer the bloody attack of the infected ones, with the exception of Ángela and Pablo. They manage to hide in the attic, which should be empty according to Guillem. However, Ángela and the cameraman realize that Guillem was wrong. In the dark, with the only light of the camera, they see that the flat is full of bottles, pipes, crucifixes, and religious pictures. Hung on the wall, there

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are a number of old newspaper clippings that report the case of the “Medeiros Girl,” a Portuguese child who was possessed by an evil spirit and disappeared mysteriously some decades ago. The clippings, coming from the Portuguese, Spanish, and Italian press, point to the ambiguity of the case, which had even been investigated by the Vatican. Among medical reports and pictures of sick people, Ángela and Pablo find a tape recorder. When they turn on the device, we hear a man talking about his experiments to get a vaccine for the Medeiros Girl. Later, however, he says that the virus has mutated into different strains and has become contagious. To make matters worse, he has received a telegram from the Vatican: the Medeiros Girl must die and all signs of her existence must be erased. While the main characters are trying to assimilate the recording, a trap door opens in the ceiling. Pablo hoists the camera up to shoot what happens, so we can see that inside the trap door there is an infected child who beats the camera, breaking the light of the device. Thus, Pablo takes down the camera and turns on the night vision, showing the Medeiros Girl (Javier Botet) in the back of the room. This horrible creature—pale, tall, skinny, with flabby breasts and long hair—attacks Pablo. The camera falls to the ground but keeps recording Ángela, who, lying face down, is dragged back by someone from behind. [Rec]’s ending brings to mind the words of the reporter: “We have to tape everything, Pablo! For fuck’s sake!” a cry that has become a classical sentence for the fans of fantasy and horror cinema. —Rebeca Martín

REGRESIÓN (REGRESSION) (2015) Director: Alejandro Amenábar Screenplay: Alejandro Amenábar Specs: 103 minutes; color In this psychological thriller based on real events, directed by Alejandro Amenábar, “Detective Bruce Kenner” (Ethan Hawke) investigates what initially seems to be a case of child abuse in Hoyer, Minnesota, in 1990. In a letter written by “Angela Gray” (Emma Watson), she states that her father, “John Gray” (David Dancik), abused her. The strictly religious man now suffers from sudden amnesia. In order to help him remember what happened, “Professor Kenneth Raines” (David Thewlis), a psychologist specializing in regressive hypnosis, treats him. During the first session, Gray sees “Detective George Nesbitt” (Aaron Ashmore) abusing his daughter while he is taking pictures. Since Angela is staying at the Joy of Salvation Church with “Reverend Beaumont” (Lothaire Bluteau), Kenner and Raines interrogate her there. She is very scared and does not want to talk; she prefers to write down the events. Once Kenner and Raines have read her testimony, which ends with a drawing of an inverted cross that was apparently branded on her stomach by Nesbitt during a kind of satanic ritual, she points in a series of pictures to the one of Nesbitt. He was the one who abused her. That evening, after getting a telephone call from “Police Chief Cleveland” (Peter MacNeill), Kenner watches a television report on satanic ritual abuse and the book In Satan’s Name. During the night, John

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Gray dreams about a black cat and someone in a hood. Kenner and Raines travel to Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, to speak to and hypnotize “Roy Gray” (Devon Bostick), Angela’s brother. During the regression session, he sees women in hoods, like witches, around him in his former bed. The relationship between Kenner and Angela gets closer. She seems to trust him more and more. He records the interrogations and listens to them repeatedly in the different places of the events in order to reconstruct the facts and try to understand what happened. While listening to her voice, the audience is shown, for instance, a black mass that supposedly took place at her father’s workshop. Kenner imagines what happened and is increasingly anxious. Angela’s voice tells us that during the rituals a woman used to pass a pitcher around and say, “That isn’t happening. It’s all a dream.” This phrase gets to the core of the story and offers a metadiscourse on the essence of cinema. As in other Amenábar films, such as Abre los ojos (1997) and The Others (2001), the limits between reality, suggestion, dream, and nightmare blur—so much so that Kenner starts seeing and hearing these people in hoods in his own bedroom, exactly like Roy and Angela described them. He is tormented and also becomes somehow their victim. Since the story is told from Kenner’s subjective point of view, the audience does not know if he was having nightmares, hallucinating, or that actually happened to him. Thanks to the use of horror film elements and aesthetics, the nightmare-like atmosphere reaches a peak when “Rose Gray” (Dale Dickey), Angela’s grandmother, goes to John’s workshop to get her cat “Lacy”; she is confronted with her own psyche, gets desperate, and jumps from a window. Surrounded by an atmosphere of fear and paranoia, in a rainy and dark environment full of shadows like in a film noir, Kenner starts to lose control of himself and the situation. He feels observed and followed, and he questions everything, even the limits between science and charlatanism: did the regression therapy of Professor Raines induce fantasies and create by a matter of suggestion events that never took place? And, in fact, there is a twist at the end. Kenner finds out that “the devil does exist,” but not as an external entity; it dwells only in one person: Angela. He discovers “the truth,” a concept put here into question in analogy to Tesis’s epilogue. Angela appears in a television interview together with Reverend Beaumont while her brother is picking up their grandmother from the hospital. She tells her truth to the mass media and appeals to the audience to believe her story. Apart from the main genre, there are other similarities between Tesis and Regression. The name of Tesis’s protagonist is Ángela, the Spanish equivalent of the victim’s name in Regression. In Tesis, the protagonist listened to a tape that contained the screams of the victim; in Regression, Bruce Kenner listens to a tape with Angela’s testimony. In both films, the role of mass media is critically addressed: How much should they show? How much should they tell? Do they tell the truth? Whose truth? Do they opt for sensation rather than information? Regression is a film full of suspense that counts on solid interpretations. The mixture of film genres successfully creates an atmosphere of uncertainty throughout the film. We are shown that institutions that are believed to be strong—for instance, the police, the church, and even the family—can be as vulnerable as individuals.

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See also Abre los ojos (Open Your Eyes); Alejandro Amenábar (Appendix A); Los otros (The Others) —Maribel Cedeño Rojas

RELATOS SALVAJES (WILD TALES) (2014) Director: Damián Szifrón Screenplay: Damián Szifrón Specs: 122 minutes; color Relatos salvajes is a 2014 film directed by Damián Szifrón. Divided into six bizarre, extremely dark, and violent stories, the film depicts how people can turn into brutalized and dehumanized subjects unexpectedly. This Spanish-Argentinian coproduction, nominated for an Oscar by the American Academy Awards in the category of Best Foreign Language Film in 2015, received major international recognition. It won Best Film Not in the English Language at the 69th British Academy Film Awards, 10 awards at the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences of Argentina (including for categories such as Best Film, Best Director, Best Screenplay Original, and Best Cinematography) in 2014, and seven Silver Condor Awards at the Argentinean Film Critics Association Awards (also in categories such as Best Director, Best Supporting Actor and Actress, Best Music, and Best Editing) in 2015. In Spain, the film won the Best Iberoamerican Film

Diego Gentile and Érica Rivas. Sony Pictures Classics / Photofest © Sony Pictures Classics

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Goya Award in 2015. It was also nominated for the Palme d’Or at the Cannes Film Festival in 2014. Regardless of gender, class, or social differences, in Szifrón’s film feelings such as vengeance, envy, deception, and fear become the excuse to release uncontrollable fury. Without any warning, in this intense dark comedy the characters cross the thin line that divides civilization and barbarism. The precredits tale, “Pasternak,” serves as an overture to this roller-coaster experience. During a quiet and routine air flight, all the passenger and crew on board discover that they have a common acquaintance called “Pasternak.” This surreal coincidence becomes a real nightmare when they find out the reason why someone they considered a lifelong loser has brought them together. In “Las ratas,” a cook (Rita Cortese) gets justice for a wronged waitress (Julieta Zylberberg) at an isolated café. The cold and relentless action by the older woman cannot be considered merely as favor to her coworker, but as revenge to a hegemonic—patriarchal—system based on impunity. If the cinematography by Javier Juliá and the music by Gustavo Santaolalla are highlights in Szifrón’s film, the editing of the short entitled “El más fuerte” is superb. “Diego” (Leonardo Sbaraglia), an upper-middle-class man, enters into an escalation of violence with “Mario” (Walter Donado), a redneck driver, after having a road incident on a desolate highway. Their brutal dispute turns into class warfare, and the ironic portrayal of the stereotypical dyad car-manhood is ultimately destroyed when their death is taken as a crime of passion. While most sections depict violence exerted between individuals, in the story of “Simón Fisher,” alias “Bombita” (Ricardo Darín), the aggression is directed toward a social institution, embodying a sort of rejection of an increasingly privatized, bureaucratic, and abusive state-run administration. The accumulating frustration of a demolition engineer who is repeatedly fined for parking, the creepy representation of the tow truck, and the depersonalized account of public and private offices is a fascinating commentary in Relatos salvajes about freedom rights within the urban space. “La propuesta,” instead, illustrates the intricate force and corruption within the de facto forces. A spoiled teenager wakes up his parent after a hit-and-run accident. A pregnant woman is dead. Soon, the father (Óscar Martínez) begins weaving a network with the help of his lawyer (Osmar Núñez) to protect the kid. The bribery includes the family’s groundkeeper taking the blame, the public prosecutor, and the police. Ultimately, despite several storyline twists, the victims of this tragedy end up being the usual suspects. “Hasta que la muerte nos separe” is the final blow of this ruthless movie. At a wedding reception, “Romina” (Érica Rivas), the bride, turns into a vengeful machine when “Ariel” (Diego Gentile), her new husband, admits he had cheated on her with a one of the guests. The woman’s fury razes the banquet, humiliating the groom, tormenting her rival, and provoking her mother-in-law’s collapse. Overt violence by women is not a common topic portrayed in the arts, and director Damián Szifrón successfully connects Romina’s emotional vertigo with her physical reaction in this memorable short. Relatos salvajes offers a distressing view concerning human repression, aggressiveness, and alienation, all of which are part of us. Still, Szifrón attains in

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this movie a fine balance between drama, suspense, and dark humor. This brutal black comedy might disturb some viewers, but it can also serve as a cathartic film for others. Although there are some graphic images, it is an interesting example of the reproduction of violence—“civilization and its discontents”—in contemporary society. —Vania Barraza

REMANDO AL VIENTO (ROWING WITH THE WIND) (1988) Director: Gonzalo Suárez Screenplay: Gonzalo Suárez Specs: 105 minutes; color Remando al viento is a 1988 English-language supernatural drama film written and directed by Gonzalo Suárez. It tells a speculative story of Lord Byron, John Polidori, and Mary and Percy Shelley’s lives beginning in the summer of 1816 when, while staying in a Swiss villa, Mary begins writing what will become Frankenstein. The film won seven Goya Awards, including Best Director for Suárez, and remains his only English-language production. The film begins with “Percy Shelley” (Valentine Pelka) asking his mentor, philosopher “William Godwin” (Terence Taplin), to wed his daughter, “Mary Godwin” (Lizzy McInnerny). Godwin is disgusted by the proposal, even though Shelley is a wealthy man whom he relies upon to occasionally support the philosopher’s family. After Shelley threatens to commit suicide to an unmoved Godwin, Mary and Percy decide to marry without her father’s permission. They also decide to visit Percy’s old friend, “Lord Byron” (Hugh Grant), in Switzerland to celebrate their union. They invite Mary’s sister, “Claire Clairmont” (Elizabeth Hurley), to join them because Claire and Byron once had a romance that they believe will blossom into marriage. Byron is living at the Villa Diodati and receives word from his manservant, “Fletcher” (Ronan Vibert), that English visitors have arrived. Bryon detests visitors, particularly the English, as he has recently relinquished all claim to his homeland (except his title). When Byron discovers that Percy is one of the guests, he changes his attitude to accommodate his friend and the ladies. The days are filled with sailing, games, and drinking. Claire desperately attempts to rekindle her relationship with Byron, but he is too concerned with other matters—such as his pet dog and insulting Fletcher and his personal physician, “John Polidori” (José Luis Gómez). One evening, after consuming great quantities of alcohol, Byron insults Polidori’s ability to write and make love. Shortly after the doctor storms out of the villa, Byron discovers his beloved Labrador has been poisoned. He suspects Polidori but does not accuse the physician directly. They bury the dog and Byron proclaims he wants to be interred next to his pet upon his own death. Claire attempts to comfort Byron and they have sex, though it is clear that he has no true feelings for the young woman. The next afternoon, Byron recommends a game where each guest writes a terrifying story and whichever is the scariest will be deemed the winner. That night, Mary sets to work on a story about a doctor who wishes to create his own

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being. Some days later, there is a terrible storm that brings teeming rain, lightning, and thunder. On the night of the storm, Polidori is playing billiards and drinking. He notices a large, grotesque-looking man (José Carlos Rivas) attempting to enter the villa. Once he gains access, the tall man begins talking to a terrified Polidori about past sins. A few hours later, Claire comes to the billiards room and discovers Polidori hanging from the chandelier, dead. They bury his body the next morning and the guests decide to leave, including a distraught Claire, who discovers she is pregnant with Byron’s child. Some years later, Percy, Mary, and Claire are back in England with their respective children, “William Shelley” (Nicolás Moser) and “Allegra Byron” (Rebecca Ordovas). Godwin and his son-in-law still maintain a strained relationship, furthered all the more by Percy’s encouragement of Mary to publish, anonymously, her novel Frankenstein. Beginning to feel the literary pressures from critics, Mary wants to leave England and return to the European continent. One night, shortly before leaving for their trip, the grotesque man who entered the villa the night Polidori committed suicide enters Mary’s room, terrifying her. She attempts to convince her husband of what she saw but believes she only imagined the man. Percy, Mary, Claire, and the children venture to Italy, where they reconnect with Byron, who has ingrained himself with the local aristocracy and high-ranking church officials while openly carrying on multiple affairs with women whom he later discards. He has had several attempts against his life by these scorned women but has managed to escape death. Claire tries to get Bryon to recognize his daughter and to marry her in one last effort that ultimately fails. One night, at Byron’s estate, the grotesque man appears and tempts an awakened William to a pool near the house. The next morning, William is found drowned. Percy and Mary are devastated and decide to leave. As the party is leaving by carriage, Percy jumps out and runs screaming into the surrounding woods. He removes a pistol and attempts to kill himself when “Edward Williams” (Jolyon Baker) appears, asking Percy what he is doing on his property. Percy explains he is friends with Byron and an impressed Edward invites Percy and the women to his home to meet his wife, “Jane” (Kate McKenzie), and to stay for dinner. Percy and Edward become fast friends. They enjoy sailing, shooting, and horseback riding. The Shelleys and Claire move in with the Williamses and their lives seem to be getting better. One day, however, Percy notices the grotesque man walking alone on the seashore and tries to approach him, but he disappears. He tells Mary that he is now seeing visions and that she is responsible for them. One day, Percy and Edward go sailing on a yacht named the Ariel the morning after a horrific storm. While sailing, another storm approaches, which worries Mary, who believes that the grotesque man signaled that Percy would die next. This is accurate, as the next morning the yacht is recovered with Percy’s and Edward’s dead bodies discovered. A few days later, Percy’s body is laid on a funeral pyre by the ocean and cremated. Byron tells Fletcher he is glad he is leaving Italy and going to Greece to help fight a budding revolution (Byron will die a few years later in Greece). Through her tears, Mary sees the grotesque man a great distance away on a cliff overlooking the ceremony; he then turns and walks into the mist.

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Remando al viento was the third film made between 1986 and 1988 focusing on the Shelleys and Lord Byron’s 1816 summer by Lake Geneva. The first, Ken Russell’s Gothic, was a supernatural, all-out-bizarre take on those mysterious months in the lives of these famed writers. Ivan Passer’s 1988 Haunted Summer is a more dramatic and perhaps more accurate rendering of these great minds’ vacation. Suárez’s film, though extending beyond their time at the villa, seems more concerned with eroticism and the odd, unusually cold demeanor each of these literary figures has toward one another. It is also inaccurate to historical events. Besides linking each of the many deaths that surrounded these individuals to a “monster” that may or may not be imaginary, the timeline of many of the occurrences are incorrect. Polidori did not die in Switzerland, but several years later in London. He also wrote The Vampyre, what is likely the first English-language story to feature vampirism as a central motif. Also, William, the son of the Shelleys, died at the age of three due to an illness, not at eight by drowning as the movie depicts. Perhaps used as a way to strengthen the supernatural elements of the film, these mistakes ultimately weaken the production and turn what could have been a provocative exercise in supposition into a failed venture to chronicle the lives of famed writers who lived lives that one only sees in movies. Bibliography Klingaman, William K. The Year without Summer: 1816 and the Volcano That Darkened the World and Changed History. New York: St. Martin’s Press, 2013. Lundquist, Arthur Joseph. “Gothic.” In We Belong Dead: Frankenstein on Film, edited by Gary J. Sveh and Susan Svehla, 253–62. Arlington, VA: Midnight Marquee, 1997. ———. “Haunted Summer.” In We Belong Dead: Frankenstein on Film, edited by Gary J. Sveh and Susan Svehla, 263–72. Arlington, VA: Midnight Marquee, 1997. Montillo, Roseanne. The Lady and Her Monsters: A Tale of Dissections, Real-Life Dr. Frankensteins, and the Creation of Mary Shelley’s Masterpiece. New York: HarperCollins, 2013.

—Jonathan Clark

RÉQUIEM POR UN CAMPESINO ESPAÑOL (REQUIEM FOR A SPANISH PEASANT) (1985) Director: Francesc Betriu Screenplay: Raúl Artigot, Gustau Hernández, and Francesc Betriu, based on a novel by Ramón J. Sender Specs: 90 minutes; color Réquiem por un campesino español is a 1985 film directed by Francesc Betriu. The film focuses on the life of “Paco el del Molino” as remembered by a priest who witnessed Paco’s birth, growth, and death. It is a historical drama situated in an imaginary town in Aragón that addresses a basic social conflict in 20thcentury Spain: the inequitable and semifeudal system of property and distribution of land. The film also portrays how the village experienced the dawn of the Second Republic and later the start of the Spanish Civil War (1936–1939). The movie received two awards in 1986, the Fotogramas de Plata Award and the

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Francisco Rabal Award, both in the category of Best Actor for Antonio Banderas as Paco. In 1986 Fotogramas de Plata also nominated Fernando Fernán-Gómez as Don Valeriano for Best Actor, and the director was proposed for the 1985 Golden Lion at the Venice Film Festival. The Spanish Cultural Ministry subsidized the film and 346,475 viewers watched it. The film is an adaptation of the Spanish novel Réquiem por un campesino español, known in English as Requiem for a Spanish Peasant, written in 1953 by Ramón J. Sender. According to many critics, it is Sender’s best-known novel and his masterpiece. In the novel, through the individual story of the priest’s betrayal of Paco, the reader perceives the collective sorrow that the Spanish people underwent during that period. The author also reflects on the true meaning of Christianity. Above all, from a leftist ideological perspective, the novel highlights the conflict between the dos Españas (the two Spains)—that is, the left–right political division of the country that led to the Spanish Civil War. Because of the topics treated in the novel, it was prohibited in Spain until 1974. The plot of the movie revolves around the life of “Paco” (Antonio Banderas) through the perspective of the priest “Mosen Millán” (Antonio Ferrandis). The film begins with a white horse galloping around an empty village. In the town’s church, Mosen Millán is preparing a mass. He asks the altar boy if anyone has shown up for the service, but no one is there. The priest remembers the day he met Paco el del Molino, when he baptized him. In this first flashback, Mosen Millán and the villagers celebrate the baptism with a feast. The horse’s whinnying returns Mosen Millán to the present; he seems troubled, his glance focused on the floor. Then the priest initiates a new flashback, this time centered on Paco’s childhood. Mosen Millán asks Paco if he would like to be his altar boy. After his parents accept the offer, Paco assists Mosen Millán in various religious celebrations in the village. Even when Paco participates obediently in the events, he appears to be bored and not interested in his job; he carries a wooden gun and plays with it constantly, even interrupting the priest during the celebration of his confirmation. Moreover, when Paco is asked about his future profession, he states that he would like to be a farmer and not a priest. One day, Paco and Mosen Millán visit a dying man to administer him the last rites. Paco is extremely disturbed about the miserable conditions of this man, who lives in a cave. Afterward, Paco asks intensely about this man and his life’s circumstances; Mosen Millán grows angry and assures Paco it is all part of God’s plan. Paco does not seem satisfied with his response and continues questioning his parents about it, who decide his days as an altar boy are over. Mosen Millán returns to the present thinking about Paco’s questions. Suddenly, someone arrives at the church. It is “Don Valeriano” (Fernando FernánGómez), the duke’s administrator who owns most of the village’s lands. He offers to pay for the service, but Mosen Millán does not accept his contribution and this initiates a new flashback. Now Paco is a grown man, bathing in the river of the village while showing off to the women who clean clothes at the riverside. Paco now cultivates the land with his father; they are paying rent to a duke for working the property, which the protagonist finds unfair. As Mosen Millán is a friend of the duke’s administrator, Paco tries to reason with him. However, the priest assures him that he should only worry about his own decency after displaying

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his private parts to women, and not about the duke. During this flashback, Paco marries one of the villagers. Throughout the wedding celebration, people comment on the turmoil in the kingdom; these rumors signal the start of the Second Republic. Mosen Millán returns to the present moment in the church. Don Valeriano and another rich man of the village, “Don Gumersindo” (Eduardo Calvo), accompany him. Don Gumersindo offers to reimburse the mass, but once again, the priest does not accept the money. There is a new flashback in which the village is proclaiming their new councilors following the pronouncement of the Second Republic; Paco is one of them. Don Valeriano and Don Gumersindo, perturbed by the results and their lack of power in the new system, request Mosen Millán to restrain Paco’s intentions. In the ensuing conversation, Paco explains to the priest that he is finally able to change the situation of the poor, like the dying man they visited when he was a child, using the money they used to pay the duke. Afterward, Paco sits with Don Valeriano to ponder the new politics of the village. While the duke wishes to discuss the policies, Paco clearly states that he must terminate his control over the lands. At the end, Don Valeriano forsakes the village; soon the Civil Guard leaves too. Not long after this occurs, the fascists enter the village, burn the Republican flag, and start shooting anyone connected to the Republic. As Paco was one of the most prominent councilors, the fascists are looking for him, but he is hiding near the cave where the poor man used to live. One night, concerned about his family, he returns to the village to ask Mosen Millán if his relatives are okay; Paco also informs the priest about his hiding spot. The next day, once the fascists promise that they will not kill Paco, Mosen Millán confesses where Paco is hiding. When discovered, Paco fires at the fascists and hits two of them. In order to overcome Paco’s strategic advantage, the fascists seek Mosen Millán’s help in catching him. Back in the present moment, one of the fascist sympathizers enters the church. He also offers money to pay for the service, but Mosen Millán rejects it. Suddenly, the altar boy informs him that a white horse, which was owned by Paco, has entered the church. It requires some time, but they manage to situate the animal outside the temple. Later on, Mosen Millán enters in a new flashback; he is with the fascists in front of the cave where the protagonist is hiding. Speaking about his family and the promise of a fair trial, Mosen Millán persuades Paco, who surrenders to the fascists. In the present time, while the priest remembers these moments, he is crying profusely. In another flashback, Mosen Millán is giving the last rites to more villagers who are going to be shot by the fascist firing squads. One of them, to his own surprise, is Paco. The protagonist confronts the priest, asking about his promise of a fair trial and assuring him that he knows that he is innocent. He reiterates this last phrase until the fascists kill him in a second shooting since they miss him in the first one. Following this memory, Mosen Millán initiates the service for Paco; in attendance are only Don Valeriano, Don Gumersindo, and the fascist sympathizer. The film differs from the novel in several ways. The movie adaptation does not offer a profound psychological analysis of the character Mosen Millán, yet this is very present in the novel. The reader of Réquiem por un campesino

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español receives more knowledge about the priest’s life, his thoughts, and his contradictions; this allows for a deeper understanding of the character’s actions. On another note, Sender is mostly objective in the novel, and it is obvious that he wanted the reader to develop his own opinions about Mosen Millán and the rest of the characters. According to the critics, Betriu’s adaptation is more subjective in the sense that he portrays the Republican project as a futile attempt from the beginning, always under sight of the rich and powerful. The film indicates the inescapable fate of Paco and the Republic from the first scene in a stronger way than in the novel. See also ¡Ay, Carmela! (Ay, Carmela!); Fernando Fernán-Gómez (Appendix A); La lengua de las mariposas (Butterfly’s Tongue); Soldados de Salamina (Soldiers of Salamis) Bibliography Chandler, Richard E., and Kessel Schwartz. A New History of Spanish Literature. Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1991. Gonzalvo, Ángel, and Enric Pla. Réquiem por un campesino español, Francesc Betriu. Huesca, Departamento de Educación del Gobierno de Aragón, 2001. Serrano, M. A. “Los elementos narrativos en Réquiem por un campesino español.” In Spanish Literature: 1700 to the Present, vol. 3, edited by David William Foster, Daniel Altamiranda, and Carmen de Urioste, 331–45. New York: Garland, 2001.

—Alba Marcé García

EL REY DE LA HABANA (THE KING OF HAVANA) (2015) Director: Agustí Villaronga Screenplay: Agustí Villaronga Specs: 125 minutes; color Based on Pedro Juan Gutiérrez’s celebrated “dirty realist” novel, El rey de La Habana is a Spanish-Dominican Republic coproduction shot in the Caribbean nation that portrays the physical and moral foulness of mid-1990s Havana through the dim, sexually fixated eyes of a cocky, unscrupulous seducer. The film was nominated for three Goya Awards and won the Best Actress award at the San Sebastián International Film Festival in 2015. In the squalid Havana of the 1990s, “Reinaldo” (Maikol David), also known as “Rey,” a youth recently released from a correctional facility, mixes with the dregs of society—beggars, prostitutes, transvestites, street peddlers, the inhabitants of an abandoned and dilapidated building—the penniless people who lived during the toughest times of what was known as the Cuban Special Period, the time of crushing economic depression that followed first the Soviet Union’s dissolution in 1989 and then the tightening of US sanctions. As Rey works his way around downtown Havana, longing, disillusionment, rum, and a good sense of humor are his only company. Until one day, he meets Magda. The two find they have a lot in common and a tragic story of impossible love ensues. Their relationship, marked by tenderness and boundless passion, will push their emo-

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tions to the limit, as they search to find a place where they can settle down and start a “normal” family. Meanwhile, the nightmarish everyday life in 1990s Cuba threatens to wear them down and damage them irreversibly. Ultimately the story reveals itself as a fundamentally moral affair in which the limitations of the macho stereotype have been unflinchingly exposed and indicted. This practically and psychologically dysfunctional domestic setup is emblematic of the wider social ills affecting Cuba’s poverty-gutted underclasses during one of the country’s darkest periods. Villaronga’s script stays away from political commentary but portrays the devastation of the era vividly enough through his characters’ own circumstances. It’s hardly surprising that Cuban authorities refused the filmmaker permission to shoot in Havana, but the Dominican Republic capital of Santo Domingo makes a convincingly dilapidated stand-in, with the assistance of Alain Ortiz’s colorfully sordid production design. From the times of his disturbing Tras el cristal (1986), Agustí Villaronga’s career has kept faithful to a series of recurrent motifs and obsessions (life in the margins, existence as a war zone between conformity and difference, the prospects of love in the midst of abjection) while accepting new challenges that excluded the possibility of repeating himself. Five years after Pa negre (2010)— the only Spanish film that has dealt with post–Civil War Spain as a space of collective infection—Villaronga adapts Gutiérrez’s verbal crudeness in El rey de La Habana. Here he retakes the semantic field of what Fidel Castro used to call lumpen to examine hardships of life in Cuba at a time of economic collapse. His characters are human waste, outcasts who are motivated by the survival instinct among the ruins of a revolution that evoke an apocalyptic landscape. Colorful and energetic, if unpleasant at times, El rey de La Habana struggles to contain its volatile cocktail of moods and tones, with Villaronga’s functional direction lacking at times the energy that the tough material truly demands. With many scenes unfolding in dark interior spaces, the telenovela-like story could easily be remade as a theater play, perhaps even an extravagant musical, to fully dramatize the larger-than-life goings-on. The apocalyptic threat of an El Niño cyclone becomes just another hazard that the hungry, infinitely resourceful residents of Central Havana must cope with. Crude, indecent, and obscene, the film undertakes a risky, grotesque tone, which is a register Villaronga had never tried but that he resolves with ability in order to underscore the proximity between eros and thanatos. The film ultimately reveals itself as an unabashedly shocking urban melodrama that enraptures or repels viewers with its upfront excess, a two-hour immersion in poverty, squalor, sex, violence, prostitution, and death that brings to sordid life the nightmarish reality of Cuba in the 1990s. Although the film received mixed reviews, some critics praised its director for his ability to provide an authentic and nonjudgmental account of lives lived far off any imaginable grid, where the lack of any comprehendible societal structure reduces people to their basest condition. Surprisingly, even in these lowest depths, Villaronga finds tenderness, compassion, and hope. See also Pa negre / Pan negro (Black Bread)

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Bibliography Pinilla, Sergio F. “El rey de La Habana: crudeza y verosimilitud fotográfica.” Cameraman 85 (2014): 34–41.

—Santiago Juan-Navarro

EL REY PASMADO (THE DUMBFOUNDED KING) (1991) Director: Imanol Uribe Screenplay: Joan Potau and Gonzalo Torrente Malvido Specs: 106 minutes; color El rey pasmado is a French-Portuguese-Spanish comedy-historical film based on Gonzalo Torrente Ballester’s novel Crónica del rey pasmado. The film tells the apocryphal story of the inexperienced 17th-century adolescent monarch “Philip IV” (Gabino Diego), while offering a farcical version of the Golden Age. It was nominated for 14 Goya Awards and won eight, including Best Screenplay Adapted and Best Costume Design. The film was also a success in the box office. It is 1620, and the young king of Spain is technically a married man since the great churchmen have conducted a grand public wedding ceremony joining him with “Queen Elisabeth of France” (Anne Roussel). However, as the real rulers of the state, they have perversely kept him completely innocent in matters of sex, so that his marriage remains unconsummated. On the morning of a fateful day, the young king is brought to the house of “Marfisa” (Laura del Sol), a courtesan who happens to be the favorite of the Grand Inquisitor himself (Fernando FernánGómez). When the king sees her nude, he becomes dumbfounded. The pose of the courtesan, who even asleep persevered in her role as seducer, clearly evokes Velázquez’s Venus del espejo (aka Venus de Roqueby). Unlike the novel, the film shows the king staring at the back of the prostitute reflected on a mirror. It is the unexpected convergence between his gaze with this reflection what provokes his dumbfounded state. Uribe thus pays homage to Velázquez and his legendary specular enigmas. After this discovery, the king decides to see the naked body of his otherwise chaste wife. Sexual desire is thus restored to the confines of marriage. However, the film also explores a theme central to more recent Spanish experience: the absurd effects of imposing a rigid authority and perverse moral code. When the inquisitor learns of the king’s meeting with the prostitute, he issues two conflicting instructions to two different aides. He sends one to have her arrested and another to warn her to go into hiding. That kind of convoluted behavior is the norm in this humorous historical drama. One of the controversies the court entertains itself with is whether the king committed adultery with the prostitute, since it could be alleged that he wasn’t quite completely married at the time, according to the legal and theological conventions of the period. Surrounded as he is by very conservative priests who constantly protect (and isolate) him as one of the visible heads of the Church in Spain, the naïve king needs more than a little help to arrange a romantic tryst alone with the queen, without the overbearing and antilibidinous presence of their omnipresent escorts and at-

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tendants. It is this entertaining and intriguing “foreplay” that is the backbone of the film. El rey pasmado offers an engaging story enhanced by luxurious settings, glamorous costumes, an atmospheric and evocative musical score by José Nieto, and spotless pictorial cinematography by Hans Burmann. The film is also skillfully shot and expertly set, creating a suggestive yet realistic ambiance that is up to the level of the plot and the acting. Most of the film was shot in the Renaissance palace of the Marquis of Santa Cruz in Viso del Marqués (Ciudad Real) and the Monastery of Uclés (Cuenca). The movie marked a change of pace for the Basque filmmaker. Uribe had gained fame early in his career for his controversial sociopolitical portraits of the Basque people, such as El proceso de Burgos (1979), La fuga de Segovia (1981), and La muerte de Mikel (1983). Then he turned his extraordinary imaginative abilities to making thrillers such as Adios pequeña (1986) and Plenilunio (1999). El rey pasmado was his only incursion into historical cinema, which he mixed with a well-calculated sense of humor. Días contados (1994), where he intermingled the aesthetics of the thriller with political issues, is his greatest success to date. See also Fernando Fernán-Gómez (Appendix A); Juana la Loca (Mad Love) Bibliography Aguirresarobe, Javier. Luces y sombras en el cine de Imanol Uribe. Valladolid: Semana Internacional de Cine de Valladolid, 2004. Angulo, Jesús, and Carlos Heredero, eds. El cine de Imanol Uribe: entre el documental y la ficción. San Sebastián: Filmoteca vasca, 1994.

—Santiago Juan-Navarro

1 •  S  • SEIS PUNTOS SOBRE EMMA (SIX POINTS ABOUT EMMA) (2011) Director: Roberto Pérez Toledo Screenplay: Roberto Pérez Toledo and Peter Andermatt Specs: 82 minutes; color Directed by Roberto Pérez Toledo, Seis puntos sobre Emma (2011), a drama with comedic touches, is a film with a blind protagonist that nevertheless attempts to be about something other than her blindness. Yet, disability and blindness are central to this film, whose title is a reference to the Braille writing system, which uses “six points” to represent any letter of the alphabet. Similarly, the film is structured as a six-part bildungsroman, each part representing a further stage of emotional development for the protagonist, “Emma” (Verónica Echegui). Emma, a woman about to turn 30, wishes, more than anything else, to have a child. That will be her purpose and the plot driver throughout the film, her disability presented only as an ancillary issue. This is Pérez Toledo’s ópera prima, although the filmmaker, himself a wheelchair user, has directed other short films. Well received by Spanish critics, the film won two awards in the 2012 XV Festival de Málaga de Cine Español (15th Spanish Film Festival in Málaga): Best Script, and Best Actress for Echegui. It also garnered the Best Film award at the 2012 Festival de Cine de Las Palmas (Las Palmas Film Festival). Filmed in Tenerife (Canary Islands, Spain), the plot revolves around Emma’s quest for motherhood, a desire that stems from her inability to love anyone, an emotional hurdle she contends with throughout the narrative. Emma believes that if she has a child she will finally have someone to care for and love, finding the fulfillment she lacks in her personal life. The film opens as Emma leaves her boyfriend, “Jorge” (Antonio Velázquez), with whom she has been in a relationship for over six months, because he is unable to get her pregnant. She then begins her search for someone who will be able to do so, as she puts it, without feelings or love, no strings attached. Emma lives with her seeing-eye dog, Rosca, in a small apartment in the city and works for a suicide hotline, the “Teléfono de la Esperanza” (the Hope Line). She befriends one of the callers, who eventually becomes her confidant and serves as a facilitator for Emma to talk about her real feelings and vulnerability. Emma’s quest for motherhood begins in a support group for people with disabilities, where she meets “Germán” (Álex García Fernández), the psychologist in charge of conducting the therapy sessions. The two become attracted to each other during the sessions and soon they begin an affair. What Emma does not know is that Germán is married and has children. Similarly, what Germán does not know is that Emma is ostensibly using him in order to get pregnant, although, gradually, she begins to fall in love with him. Although both are lying 340

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to the other, their relationship intensifies, and Emma begins to ask Germán why he does not spend the night at her place, which Germán answers evasively. In the meantime, Emma has also met her neighbor “Ángela’s” (Mabel del Pozo) 20-something brother, “Diego” (Fernando Tielve), who becomes infatuated with her. Diego is unemployed and staying with his sister, a single mother, in order to help her take care of her baby. As the film progresses, Diego, increasingly obsessed with replacing Germán as Emma’s lover, begins spying on the couple. This love triangle becomes even more entangled as Germán, who videotapes his therapy sessions, begins to film his and Emma’s lovemaking without her knowledge. One day Diego follows Germán home, breaks into his car, and steals some photos of the psychologist with his wife and children, as well as the sex videotapes. Diego then confronts Emma with the news that Germán is married but says nothing about the sex tapes. Emma reacts violently and throws Diego out of her house, but despite her supposed “lack of attachment” to Germán, she is visibly upset. The next day she exposes Germán in front of the therapy group as an adulterer and a liar, and leaves him. Diego delivers the coup de grace by sending Germán’s wife the sex tapes. Distraught as his family life unravels and he has to leave his job for his unprofessional conduct, Germán attempts to reconnect with Emma, but she rebuffs him and discloses that she, too, had been using him and never felt anything for him. Then, Emma and Diego begin to date, establishing a fledgling relationship. Soon, however, Emma realizes this new relationship is not what she wants either, and decides to leave Tenerife and Diego to start a new life elsewhere. She is already pregnant, although it is unclear who the father is. Emma slips a letter written in Braille under Diego’s door (she had been teaching him how to read the point alphabet). As he slowly reads it, Diego realizes she is leaving him and runs out the door just in time to see her taxi driving off. Emma, of course, cannot see him looking forlorn in the middle of the road as she leaves for good. In a final scene, Emma is having an ultrasound and she asks the technician if he can “see” whether the fetus is a boy or a girl, to which he replies, “Yes, of course.” Emma, overcome with emotion, has achieved her purpose, having a baby to love and care for unconditionally. Some of the most remarkable aspects of the film involve the nuanced depiction of a variety of disabilities in the therapy session scenes, where the director manages to skillfully avoid falling into facile stereotypes. Several secondary characters, which include people in wheelchairs, individuals with cognitive disabilities, psychological trauma, deafness, and other life-challenging conditions, are depicted not as pitiable but as multidimensional human beings with complex, unique, and strong personalities. See also Los abrazos rotos (Broken Embraces); Mar adentro (The Sea Inside) Bibliography Pérez Toledo, Roberto. “Roberto Pérez Toledo escribe sobre Seis puntos sobre Emma.” Alta films: Noticine. May 8, 2012. www.abcguionistas.com/noticias/articulos/robertoperez-toledo-escribe-sobre-seis-puntos-sobre-emma.html (September 10, 2016).

342     EL 7º DÍA Venegas, William. “Crítica de cine: Emma a seis puntos” La Nación. April 13, 2014. http: www.nacion.com/ocio/cine/Critica-cine-Emma-puntos_0_1408259246.html (September 10, 2016).

—Eduardo Ledesma

EL 7º DÍA (THE 7TH DAY) (2004) Director: Carlos Saura Screenplay: Ray Loriga Specs: 95 minutes; color El 7º día is the 36th film directed by Carlos Saura, one of Spain’s most popular and prolific directors. Saura is renowned for his works dedicated to the metatheatrical and the metacinematic, as well as for his attention to dance—especially in films such as El amor brujo (1986), Tango (1998), and Flamenco, Flamenco (2010). His directorial works also include Peppermint Frappé (1967), El Dorado (1988), ¡Dispara! (1993), Goya en Burdeos (1999) and I, Don Giovanni (2009). El 7º día was nominated for four Goya Awards and won Saura the award for Best Director at the Montreal World Film Festival. The story, set in a provincial village in Extremadura, is focused on the violent feud between two families, the Jiménezes and the Fuenteses. The rivalry begins in the 1960s when “Amadeo Jiménez” (Juan Sanz) leaves his fiancée, “Luciana Fuentes” (Lilla Annechino), just before the wedding. The latter is desperate and laments her abandonment with her elder brother “Jerónimo” (Ramón Fontseré), who interprets literally her vengeful wishes and stabs Amadeo to death in the middle of a field. Jerónimo is condemned to 30 years in prison, but the Jiménez

José Luis Gómez. Lola Films Distribución / Photofest © LolaFilms

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family retaliates by burning down the Fuenteses’ home, a fire that kills the mother of the four remaining members of the family. Many years pass and Luciana (now portrayed by Victoria Abril) is still embittered about her failed marriage. The Fuenteses have been ostracized by the village’s inhabitants and live in a house outside the village. Jerónimo is then released from prison and attempts to murder “José” (José García), Amadeo’s brother. Charged, convicted, and returned to prison, he quickly descends into madness and dies. José survives the attack and his thoughtful wife, “Carmen” (Eulalia Ramón), attempts to persuade him to sell their butcher shop, leave the village, and flee from the hateful feud between the two families. José refuses because he does not want to surrender to fear. The story is narrated by teenager “Isabel Jiménez” (Yohana Cobo), José’s oldest daughter, who is involved in a relationship with a young biker, “Chino” (Oriol Vila). Chino convinces Isabel to learn about her family’s past, but after talking to the mentally handicapped eyewitness nicknamed “Tonto” (who, like the figure of the fool in William Shakespeare’s works, is sometimes more perceptive about reality than the rest of the characters), she refuses to believe that her father is an arsonist and a killer. Chino is soon forced to leave the village because the police have discovered his drug trafficking. In the meantime, the two Fuentes sisters, Luciana and “Ángela” (Ana Wagener), convince their brothers—“Antonio” (Juan Diego) and “Emilio” (José Luis Gómez)—to enact vengeance on the wrongs suffered by their family at the hands of the Jiménezes and the village’s inhabitants at large. On a Sunday (that is, the seventh day referenced in the title), Antonio and Emilio visit the village and, armed with two rifles and ample ammunition, they shoot José’s three daughters and then indiscriminately massacre every person whom they encounter. The two brothers are then arrested the day after and sent to prison for life, whereas their sisters are confined to a mental asylum. Isabel, one of the few survivors of the massacre, leaves the village with her mother and her aunt to a coastal city, while José remains behind. El 7º día, which is based on real events that occurred in Puerto Hurraco in 1990, conveys the atmosphere of hate that envelops the Fuentes family, with the two sisters’ continuous appeals to their brothers’ honor and masculinity as well as their solitude and obsession with the death of their relatives. Of primary importance are the diegetic songs played on the radio that the characters listen to and sing, thus adapting the lyrics’ meaning to their lives and their immediate emotions. Noteworthy is also the film’s photography (by François Lartigue), which glorifies the beauty of the rural countryside, immersing the characters in its summer colors and warmth, especially through the use of landscape frames and panning shots. The director creates a realistic depiction of provincial and rural life, from the old women’s gossiping in the streets to the whispers among mates at the bar’s counter. See also ¡Ay, Carmela! (Ay, Carmela!); Bodas de sangre (Blood Wedding); Cría cuervos (Raise Ravens); Goya en Burdeos (Goya in Bordeaux); Carlos Saura (Appendix A)

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Bibliography Heredero, Carlos F. “El séptimo día.” El Cultural. 2004. http://www.elcultural.com/ revista/cine/El-septimo-dia/9392 (December 5, 2014).

—Antonio Sanna

SEXO POR COMPASIÓN (COMPASSIONATE SEX) (2000) Director: Laura Mañá Screenplay: Laura Mañá Specs: 109 minutes; black-and-white and color Sexo por compasión is the first feature-length film of Catalan actor and director Laura Mañá. Although her debut film has been utterly ignored by academe, it was recognized on the awards circuit, winning six total awards at four different ceremonies: two Guadalajara International Film Festival Awards (Audience Award for Mañá and the Mayahuel Award for Best Director for Mañá); one Miami Hispanic Film Festival Award (Best Original Screenplay for Mañá); two Malagá Film Festival Awards (Audience Award for Best Film and Overall Award for Best Film); and one Sant Jordi Award (Best First Work for Mañá). The film opens to a panorama of a small, unidentified, provincial desert town. The color quickly fades to black and white, which will occupy the majority of the montage, in symbolic fashion, until the moment of resolution, in which the town, previously plagued by infertility and fretting about the future, hears the announcement made by the primary protagonist, “Dolores” (Élisabeth Margoni), that she is expecting the first child to be born in years, a bastard child whose father could be any one of the townsmen, but whom the entire town will proudly claim as their own. Along the way, the audience is introduced to other key townsfolk. For starters, there’s “Manolo” (José Sancho), Dolores’s husband, who abandons her at the beginning of the film for what is, to him, her sickeningly sweet goodness. The audience also gets to know “Floren” (Mariola Fuentes), Dolores’s shy best friend, who takes her in after Manolo leaves her, as well as “Pepe” (Álex Angulo), the man whom Floren hopes will be her husband someday, equally as shy as Floren and almost mute until the very end of the film; their relationship represents a token of the disconnect that plagues the town’s couples, exaggerating their issues of infertility. We also soon meet an opposing character, “Berta” (Pilar Bardem), an overly talkative woman who never lets her husband get a word in edgewise, likewise causing an almost irreparable rift in their relationship. An elderly townswoman, “Leocadia” (Leticia Huijara), for her part, takes a photo of her deeply wrinkled visage each day in an attempt to commemorate the last days of her life, which she assumes are soon to come. She is the figure incarnate of the degeneration of the town, left to age with only one child remaining, Berta’s daughter, who is incapacitated by fear and also mute, refusing to talk, after having witnessed the former mayor commit suicide on the town’s symbolically named Mount of Olives. For his part, the local Catholic priest, “Father Anselmo” (Juan Carlos Colombo), is the worst Christian in the village—greedy, selfish, and

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lascivious. He also attempts to commit suicide, symbolically by crucifixion on the Mount of Olives toward the end of the film, providing a harsh critique of the inability of man—in particular, the institution of the Catholic Church—to reflect God’s will on Earth. In Floren’s bar, Dolores finds her only refuge from the pain she feels over disappointing both Father Anselmo and her husband, Manolo, each of whom finds fault in her seemingly superhuman inability to be selfish or sin. One day, an unnamed, out-of-town man appears in the bar, distraught and desolate. His wife has cheated on him, so he talks with Dolores for comfort; he tells her that if God were just, the unfaithfulness of a woman would be equal to that of 10 men, because the woman is the “pillar of the home.” This, ironically, gives saintly Dolores the idea that she can finally sin by committing adultery, but when she does, she comes to realize that it is yet another act of charity, giving her body freely to comfort the town’s menfolk. In a similar sense, the two eternal women types so endemic to Spanish tradition—Mary and Eve—converge in this instance, as the saintly Dolores—with her symbolic name, connoting religious suffering—also becomes the prostitute “Lolita”—the symbol of sexual desire, denoting the whore. Yet it is also at this moment that Dolores and Lolita become inextricably enmeshed in the same female body, representing the fact that the two eternal types are little more than two sides of the same coin, inverted opposites that are inseparable, figuratively pointing to the similarly thin line between the superficially opposed acts of “compassion” and “passion” presented in the film. In essence, both the Marian and Evian tropes equally oppress women in patriarchal society. In short, Dolores’s actions demonstrate the double bind that women face—as wife, Dolores is ironically too good, too saintly, like Mary; now that she has done what her husband originally requested by sullying her perfection, her alter-ego, Lolita, is too bad, too whorish, like the fallen Eve, and Manolo rejects her yet again. This pattern is depicted time and again in the film, as the town also first faults Dolores for being too compassionate and saintly, even though they benefit from her charitable acts. Once self-baptized as Lolita, the townsfolk eventually revolt against what they deem her equally revolting behavior, even though the entire town benefits from her sexual generosity. As such, Lolita comes to understand that the passion of her prostitution, for which she charges nothing, is little more than the intimate expression of the innate compassion that she feels for the people of her town. Although Manolo, along with the town, eschews both Dolores’s Marian and Evian endeavors, once he is tasked by the townswomen to sleep with them all, the way that Lolita does for the men, Manolo comes to understand the error of his ways, and he and Dolores/Lolita reconcile. Upon this happy reunion, which initiates the ultimate reconciliation of all of the couples in the town, the drab black-and-white montage that seems to have blanketed the town in ashen gray for a majority of the film symbolically returns to vibrant color, as Dolores/Lolita announces her pregnancy. In sum, the universality of Mañá’s feminist musings in Sexo por compasión is moreover highlighted time and again throughout the film, as the characters’ address one another with the Spanish vosotros amid elements of syncretic Catholic-Amerindian religious altars and icons. As such, the director’s message

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clearly seeks to relate not only to the women of Spain but moreover to the entirety of the Hispanic world. The ultimate hope espoused by the film’s ending, in which a bastard child rescues the town from a bleak, black-and-white existence and allows for regeneration, is not lost on the Hispanic world, whose history of oppression of others—gendered, raced, ethnic, socioeconomic, or otherwise, often based on illusory figments of imagination such as Castilian or Old Christian blood purity—must be upended in order to ensure the future for all. See also Amador (Amador); Las edades de Lulú, (The Ages of Lulu); Flores de otro mundo (Flowers from Another World); Jamón, jamón (Jamon, Jamon); Nadie hablará de nosotros cuando hayamos muerto (Nobody Will Speak of Us When We’re Dead); Todo sobre mi madre (All about My Mother) —Amanda Eaton McMenamin

SI TE DICEN QUE CAÍ (IF THEY TELL YOU I FELL) (1989) Director: Vicente Aranda Screenplay: Vicente Aranda, based on a novel by Juan Marsé Specs: 113 minutes; color Si te dicen que caí is a 1989 Spanish historical drama film written and directed by Vicente Aranda. Based on a novel by Juan Marsé, the film tells the complex story of several groups of people in different eras in Spanish history and their influence and the consequences of their actions on one another and their country. The film was nominated for seven 1990 Goya Awards, including Best Director and Best Actress for Victoria Abril, and won the Best Lead Actor award for Jorge Sanz. The film is a series of intertwined aventis (or stories) told from different perspectives and time periods. The main stories are told by a group of children living in the aftermath of the Spanish Civil War in 1940. The film begins, however, in 1970 when the body of “Daniel ‘Java’ Javaloyes” (played in flashbacks by Jorge Sanz) is delivered to coroner “Nito” (Cesáreo Estébanez), who recognizes the dead man. Nito begins to remember Java as a young man in 1940s Barcelona. In flashback, Java does anything he can to escape the squalor of his life, including working for an underground military group, hiding fugitives, caring for his household, and providing sadomasochistic voyeuristic sex shows for a wealthy, physically impaired man, “Don Conrado” (Javier Gurruchaga). One day, Java comes to Conrado’s home and has violent sex with “Ramona” (Victoria Abril) for the older man’s pleasure. Ramona is eight months’ pregnant and has a disfigured nipple that is later revealed to have been caused by Conrado years earlier. The young Java becomes entranced by Ramona, who quickly disappears, prompting the young man to search for her. Meanwhile a splinter group of anarchists, led by “Palau” (Lluís Homar), are busy breaking into homes and robbing the wealthy, including “Menchu” (played, again, by Victoria Abril), a high-class prostitute who is the mistress of a bank owner. This group is also trying to find “Marcos” (Antonio Banderas), Java’s brother and a former member of the anarchist organization who deserted them

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and now only yearns to be reunited with his girlfriend, “Aurora Nin” (played, once again, by Victoria Abril). Java hides Marcos in his family home and must evade questions and suspicions from both Palau’s gang and the police. Beginning to believe that Ramona and Aurora Nin are the same person, Java determines to track down the woman, initially for his own desires. The film then jumps back to 1936 during the war where Marcos is seen as a leader in the anarchist movement. He uses his position to track down and seek revenge on Don Conrado for attacking Aurora Nin. Instead of killing Conrado (who is eventually injured and must use a wheelchair), Marcos’s men find and murder Conrado’s father. Back in the 1940s, Java tracks down Ramona/Aurora Nin and discovers definitively they are the same person. He returns to Don Conrado’s apartment to take part in another voyeuristic sex show, but this time his partner is a young man, “Ado” (Aitor Merino). Java has sex with him, but discovers later that Ado was paid twice as much money for the act. Ado is threatened by Java, but “Alberto” (Jordi Dauder), a wealthy jeweler, interrupts them and eventually offers Java a job in a high-class store. One night, Palau and his gang kidnap and murder Menchu to make a political statement. That same night, Java reunites with Aurora Nin and Marcos and they flee shortly before the neighborhood is bombed. It is unknown whether Marcos or the anarchists set the bomb, but it allows the lovers to escape. The film then jumps to 1989 where an aged Palau lives in modern Barcelona, wondering if everything he fought for was worth the price. Upon driving home in a taxi, he spots two elderly people on the street who may be Aurora Nin and Marcos. See also Victoria Abril (Appendix A); El amante bilingüe (The Bilingual Lover); Vicente Aranda (Appendix A); Jorge Sanz (Appendix A) —Jonathan Clark

7 VÍRGENES (7 VIRGINS) (2005) Director: Alberto Rodríguez Librero Screenplay: Alberto Rodríguez and Rafael Cobos Specs: 85 minutes; color 7 Vírgenes is a 2005 Spanish film directed by Alberto Rodríguez Librero. It tells the story of “Tano” (Juan José Ballesta), a 16-year-old who leaves a juvenile detention center for 48 hours to attend the wedding of his brother “Santacana” (Vicente Romero). The movie takes place in Sevilla in the summer of 2004. The movie starts with a ritual: seven virgins are placed in front of a mirror, Tano lights up two candles, and starts counting. For Tano, an individual’s future is revealed when looking at the mirror for 60 seconds. As the story evolves, Tano experiences different circumstances where his values are confronted. Love and friendship are put to a test. Every friend and relative represents a mirror of a life that the main character challenges, at times, through his presence and questioning. The film is colored by mystery. The stories of different characters are untold and left open to interpretation. For instance, the reasons why Tano was put in

Juan José Ballesta and Alba Rodríguez. Altafilms Grupo Alta Classics / Photofest © Altafilms Grupo Alta Classics

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jail are not explicitly revealed in the movie. The sadness of Santacana, Tano’s brother, and “Richi’s” (Jesús Carroza) mother remains a mystery. In the case of Santacana, there is a sense of responsibility toward his grandmother (Antonia Ramírez) and his brother that may explain, to some extent, why he decided to get married without being fully committed. Richi’s relationship with his mother is also bizarre, characterized by silence and lack of eye contact. The intensity of the 48 hours lived by Tano in the company of his friends showcases the experiences of a generation growing up in a poor neighborhood of southern Spain. The movie tells stories of a group of youngsters who grew up learning to solve their problems in a violent way. When Tano is counting in front of the mirror, he witnesses Richi’s death. In the last scene Tano is seen running from the future revealed in the mirror. The soundtrack of the movie includes themes like “7 Vírgenes,” “Felicidad,” and “El Bola.” “7 Vírgenes” is played in tandem with some of the scenes of the movie, like Richi and Tano’s wallet robbery at the shopping center. The music and silence in the movie, along with environments like immersion underwater, play an important role in terms of re-creating a moment in time that may be sped up, slowed down, or even frozen. This sense of time allows the viewer to perceive changes in the mentality of the characters. Although some stories are unresolved at the end of the movie, the realities portrayed transport the viewers to any city where an impoverished youth struggles to survive and be happy. The production of this kind of movie in the 21st century constitutes a reaffirmation of the need to explore the existence of systemic structures of power, such as juvenile detention centers and poverty. In 2005 the movie had six nominations for Goya Awards, including Best Film. A Goya Award for Best New Actor was granted to Jesús Carroza for playing Richi, Tano’s best friend. Juan José Ballesta also received a 2005 Concha de Plata Award for Best Actor. Bibliography Hernández, Marcos, Anapola Mushkadiz, and Berta Ruiz. “7 Vírgenes, del premiado Juan José Ballesta, comparte cartel con Penélope Cruz y Charlize Theron.” El Confidencial. 2005. http://www.elconfidencial.com/cultura/2005-10-11/7-virgenes-del-premiadojuan-jose-ballesta-comparte-cartel-con-penelope-cruz-y-charlize-theron_742058/ (December 5, 2014).

—Nancy Carvajal Medina

SILENCIO EN LA NIEVE (FROZEN SILENCE) (2011) Director: Gerardo Herrero Screenplay: Nicolás Saad, based on a novel by Ignacio del Valle Specs: 106 minutes; color Frozen Silence is set in the harsh Russian winter of 1943 on the Leningrad Front days before one of the bloodiest battles of Second World War. This murder mystery deals with an investigation of a series of vicious killings that are wreaking havoc among the Spanish troops of the Blue Division (División Azul). This

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infantry unit of Spanish volunteers was sanctioned by Franco’s government to fight alongside the German army against the Soviet Union on the Eastern Front. Nearly 45,000 troops were deployed in three different rotations in northern Russia from 1941 to 1943. The division was finally disbanded by Franco in October of 1943 due to Allied pressure and the Red Army’s rapid advances in combat. The film was directed by Gerardo Herrero and is an adaptation of a novel by Ignacio del Valle, The Time of the Strange Emperors (El tiempo de los emperadores extraños, 2006). It re-creates the last days of the division on Russian soil waiting for a major Soviet offensive to break the Leningrad siege. It opens up with a spectral group of frozen horses in the middle of an icy lake. In this unsettling backdrop, the body of a Spanish soldier with his throat slit is discovered. The mutilated corpse has a mysterious inscription carved by a knife into his chest, “Take into account that God is watching you.” Private “Arturo Andrade” (Juan Diego Botto) will be the person assigned by the High Command to solve this grisly murder. Andrade is the main protagonist of the popular novels by Ignacio del Valle The Art of Killing Dragons (2002), The Time of the Strange Emperors (2006), The Demons of Berlin (2009), and Black Suns (2016). He is portrayed as an individualistic, cerebral, and very reserved character. During the Spanish Civil War, he had been a police inspector and a lieutenant of the intelligence services in Franco’s army (SIPM). However, a dark episode in his past causes deep distrust and suspicion among his superior officers. This is the reason why they assign “Sergeant Espinosa” (Carmelo Gómez) to act as Andrade’s assistant to watch him closely and keep them informed of his findings. The unique friendship that gradually develops between Espinosa and Andrade, a sort of Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson, will be one of the strongest points of the film, providing a detailed analysis of the case and the sinister environment of the Blue Division on the Russian Front. When more mutilated corpses with cryptic messages continue to appear, Andrade and Espinosa realize that they are after a serial killer. The assassin is leaving all sorts of traces and clues in the disfigured corpses showing masonic punishment rituals filled with extreme violence and evil. Their meticulous examination of the case unmasks the dehumanization and absurdity of war, the traumatic past of the Spanish Civil War, and also the abusive nature of power. Andrade’s investigation reveals the intrigues, political games, and power struggle between the Falange (Spanish Fascist party) officers and the Spanish army in order to seize the reins of command within the division. Ultimately the detectives discover the central motive of the murders is revenge for a sordid incident that occurred in Spain days before the troops left for Russia. The story also depicts several episodes that show the strong bonds between the Spaniards and the local Russian population. This consorting with the enemy is something that exasperated the heartless German soldiers, who were constantly at odds with the Spanish soldiers. Frozen Silence is practically the only film that re-creates the experience of the Blue Division since the beginning of the Spanish democracy. After all, their presence in history was always controversial since Spain never officially recognized the existence of a considerable number of volunteers who swore absolute allegiance to Adolf Hitler. Nevertheless, during the 1950s several movies were released coinciding with the escalation of the Cold War and the repatriation of

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Spanish prisoners from the Soviet gulags. La patrulla (1954) by a former soldier Pedro Lazaga, Embajadores en el infierno (1956) by José María Forqué, and La espera (1956) by Vicente Lluch depict the subhuman conditions of the Stalinist concentration camps, the solidarity among the Spanish prisoners, and an intense longing for their country. Gerardo Herrero’s crime thriller is highly entertaining following the success of the novel by Ignacio del Valle. Juan Diego Botto and Carmelo Gómez’s performances are splendid, forming a camaraderie that helps the audience navigate the intricate labyrinth needed to solve the brutal killings in the desolate Russian landscape of the Second World War. —Agustín Otero

SOLDADOS DE SALAMINA (SOLDIERS OF SALAMIS) (2003) Director: David Trueba Screenplay: David Trueba, based on the novel Soldados de Salamina by Javier Cercas Specs: 119 minutes; color Soldados de Salamina is an adaptation of a novel with the same title written by Javier Cercas and published in 2001. The film and novel received several awards and were highly acclaimed by critics, audiences, and readers. Ariadna Gil, the lead actress, was nominated for a 2003 Goya Award for her role as “Lola Cercas,” a writer and a Spanish literature professor at the University of Girona (Spain). The film was nominated for a total of eight Goyas and received the award for Best Photography. Other members of the cast are Ramon Fontserè as “Rafael Sánchez Mazas,” leader of the Falange (a right-wing political movement created before the Spanish Civil War), Joan Dalmau as “Antoni Miralles,” an old former soldier who supposedly saved Sánchez Mazas’s life, María Botto as the fortune teller “Conchi,” Diego Luna as the student “Gastón,” and Alberto Ferreiro as the soldier who saved the life of Sánchez Mazas. The book received numerous prestigious awards, including Premio Salambó de Narrativa, Premio Qué Leer, Premi Llibreter, and the Independent Foreign Fiction Prize, among others. Translated into more than 20 languages, Soldados de Salamina brought Javier Cercas international renown. With over a million copies of the book sold, Cercas was able to leave his position as a Spanish literature professor at the University of Girona and devote his time to writing. The novel and the film have the same basic plot: the true story of Sánchez Mazas’s near execution. Sánchez Mazas was arrested in Madrid in March 1936, a few months before the Civil War started. While in prison, he was granted a temporary leave permit for the birth of his fourth son, but he failed to report back to prison and tried to abandon the country. He was arrested again in Barcelona in 1937. He was confined on the prison ship Uruguay for months before he was finally taken for execution to the Monastery of Santa María del Collell in Girona—the first place the film shows us Sánchez Mazas. As the execution squad fires, Sánchez Mazas is able to escape into the forest. In the novel and the film, a Republican soldier finds Sánchez Mazas in the forest but decides not to kill

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him and ultimately sets him free. Both book and film address the investigation conducted to determine what happened that day and to discover the identity of the soldier who spared Sánchez Mazas. Although both the novel and the film tell the story of Sánchez Mazas, the falangist is not the main character in either. The central character in the novel is a young journalist and writer with the same name as the book’s author, Javier Cercas. The main character in the film is also young, but is a woman, not a man. Lola Cercas is not a journalist in the film but a Spanish literature professor at the University of Girona, as is the real Javier Cercas. Even though Trueba changes the sex and the profession of the main character, the personality traits of Javier Cercas and Lola Cercas are similar. Javier and Lola are professionally frustrated, directionless, and suffering the effects of failed relationships. In addition to changing the gender of the main protagonist, the film has other significant differences from the novel. First, the Mexican student Gastón replaces the famous Chilean writer Roberto Bolaño. Second, the two women in the film are Lola and Conchi, but in the novel are Conchi and María Ferrer. In the latter, Daniel Angelats and Joaquim Figueres are known as the “amigos del bosque,” or the friends of the forest, who provided Sánchez Mazas with food and shelter after he escaped from the execution squad. Finally, Lola does not meet with the first son of Sánchez Mazas—the writer Rafael Sánchez Ferlosio—but rather with his second son, the songwriter Chicho Sánchez Ferlosio. It is worth noting that different layers and connections are established in the book and the novel. The book employs biographical, historical, and fictional elements, including details from the author’s life, Sánchez Mazas’s life, and the Civil War. The film incorporates those elements as well as devices of cinéma vérité, such as images from the No-Dos, “News and Documentaries,” state-controlled series of cinema newsreels produced from 1943 to 1981, and interviews with real people such as Chicho Sánchez Ferlosio, Daniel Angelats, and Joaquim Figueres. See also David Trueba (Appendix A) —Conxita Domènech

LA SOLEDAD ERA ESTO (THIS WAS SOLITUDE) (2002) Director: Sergio Renán Screenplay: Manuel Matji, Aida Bortnik, and Sergio Renán; based on a homonymous novel by Juan José Millás Specs: 86 minutes; color La soledad era esto closely follows the storyline of the 1990 novel by Spanish author Juan José Millás with several embellishments and adaptations. La soledad era esto tells the story of “Elena Rincón” (Charo López) as she reestablishes her subjectivity after the death of her mother. The storyline begins as Elena, who is waxing her legs, receives a phone call from her brother “Juan” (Carlos Hipólito) in which she finds out that her mother, “Mercedes” (Ana Fernández), has passed away. A montage of urbanscapes of the

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Spanish capital, including shots of metro stops and the city’s bustling streets, appears. In the scenes that follow, Elena and Juan deal with their mother’s death. Juan distributes the furniture from their mother’s home to family members, and Elena finds and voraciously reads her mother’s journals. As the story progresses, viewers of the film become more aware of Elena’s growing recognition of her own profound solitude. As she reads through her mother’s journal entries, it becomes clear that Mercedes felt alone in the world during her life just as her daughter, Elena, does in the present moment of the story. This technique of doubling is repeated when Elena learns that her mother believed that she had an antipode, or an identical twin who lived the same life simultaneously as the one that she was living. The idea of the antipode, whom Mercedes had named Elena, comforted Elena’s mother and made her feel less isolated in her family and in the community that surrounded her. Elena learns more about her mother and about herself in the diaries. In one journal entry in particular, Elena finds out that a magical experience that she had as a child was really coordinated by her mother. After dreaming that she had found a coin buried in the sand at the beach, the next day, while at the beach with her family, Elena uncovered a buried coin. Elena reads in her mother’s journal that Elena had disclosed the dream about the coin at breakfast to Mercedes, and, later that same day, Mercedes buried a coin for Elena to uncover. Elena hires a private detective, “Doro” (Iñaki Font), to uncover information about her husband, “Enrique” (Ramón Langa), who is engaging in an extramarital affair. The detective confirms the affair. Perhaps inspired by the written diary entries of her mother, soon thereafter Elena hires the detective to follow her and write reports in which he subjectively describes her everyday life. The detective reports, which are really ghostwritten journal entries, function as a way for Elena to validate her selfhood and to begin to cope with her loneliness. The reports help her move toward reestablishing herself, which she does at the end of the story when she separates from Enrique. Some key themes are repetition and the obsession with the circular passage of time. Figures of mother and daughter are repeated throughout the story: Mercedes’s antipode shares the same name as her daughter, Elena; and Elena’s daughter, fittingly named Mercedes, is pregnant with a child she plans on naming Elena. Reading her mother’s journal entries inspires Elena to write her own story, both as the author and through the detective reports. Additionally, time is another repeated motif. Elena inherits her mother’s grandfather clock even though she had resisted taking it; and, later, she muses near the end of the narration that her life is halfway over, but that it is really just beginning. In the film, Renán develops some aspects of the story that were not examined in detail in Millás’s novel. The detective is given a name and his own storyline in the film: Doro is a young man who is suffering from an undisclosed illness and is given only several months to live. Mercedes’s journal entries are presented via different media in the film: as recorded cassette tapes that Elena listens to with headphones and as clips of black-and-white home movies. Furthermore, Mercedes’s written journal entries are dynamic and intimate in the novel since they directly communicate her voice from her first-person perspective. The narration of the story in the film comes from Elena’s first-person perspective, which

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places her in the position of power to function as a filter for other characters’ points of view. The story of La soledad era esto is inherently tied to the protagonist’s reexamination of herself through the intimate act of narration. The film expresses moments of nuanced emotions of solitude and grief, which encourage the protagonist to reexamine her selfhood. See also Todo sobre mi madre (All about My Mother) —Jennifer Brady

STOCKHOLM (STOCKHOLM) (2013) Director: Rodrigo Sorogoyen Screenplay: Isabel Peña and Rodrigo Sorogoyen Specs: 88 minutes; color Stockholm is a 2013 film directed by Rodrigo Sorogoyen. Prior to this, Sorogoyen directed a romantic comedy entitled 8 Citas (2008) and worked in television. Little has been written about Stockholm to date, despite the fact that it is both aesthetically interesting and has a novel production history. Lead actor Javier Pereira won the Goya in 2014 for Best New Actor, while Aura Garrido was nominated for Best Actress, and Sorogoyen was nominated for Best New Director. Produced precisely during the period in which the right-wing Spanish government, under the rubric of austerity, imposed brutal cuts and taxes upon the culture industry (such as the increase in taxes on cultural activities from 8 to 21 percent in 2012), Stockholm was largely crowd-funded through the website Verkami. This aspect of the film’s production was heavily emphasized in promotional material as well as in the extras on the DVD version of the film, and the names of all Verkami contributors are listed in the end credits, foregrounding the work as a collaborative and collective venture. Stockholm is thus a political piece of filmmaking that draws attention to the extremely difficult conditions faced by artists and performers in contemporary Spain. If the production history of Stockholm is politically motivated, so too is its narrative content. The premise of the film may not seem far removed from the stereotypical teen movie: boy meets girl at a party before spending the night together, their lives forever changed by this chance encounter. However, the film is far more complex and subtle than this brief synopsis conveys. The protagonists remain unnamed throughout the duration of the film, underscoring the universality of this story. The opening scene of the film takes place at a party. “He” (Pereira) sees “her” (Garrido) and is immediately transfixed, following her through the apartment in which the party is taking place and eventually approaching her, claiming to have fallen in love with her. She is evidently uncomfortable and offers him no encouragement. As she leaves the party, he is outside chatting with her friends, discussing where they might go for another drink. She insists that she is ready to leave and walks off with the intention of hailing a taxi to take her home. He pursues her, advising her that he has arranged to meet with her friends and had said to them that he would come after her to convince her

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to join them. The pair walk around the city together before they end up in the stairwell of his apartment block. Finally persuading her to come up to his apartment, they go to bed together. Notably, their sexual encounter is not shown, the shot instead fading to black as they kiss passionately before then fading back in to show her asleep, alone, in his bed. From this point, the film takes a dramatic twist. The second half of the film is more akin to a psychological thriller than a romance or teen film. The mysteries of the night before no longer seem so appealing in the cold light of day, accentuated by the prevalence of white in the color palette and the use of wide camera apertures. He tries to encourage her to leave so that he can carry on with his life. She does not want to leave. We become aware that she is vulnerable, that she has been—psychologically, it is implied—unwell. The pair attempts to negotiate their relationship the morning after the night before and just when it seems that they have reached an agreement about how to proceed, the film comes to a dramatic—and shocking—conclusion. The title of the film might initially seem to refer to the city of Stockholm since the opening conversation of the film between the male protagonist and a friend reveals that the latter’s girlfriend is soon to travel to the Swedish capital. However, the second half of the film reveals that its title also, more importantly, refers to Stockholm syndrome—whereby the victim, often of a kidnapping, culminates in identifying with his or her captor. In this way, Stockholm makes a bold political statement about the way in which men romantically and sexually pursue women, depicting the former as kidnappers, aggressors, and perpetrators and the latter as their victims, persuaded and coaxed into undesired liaisons. The division of the plot into two distinct halves detailed in the above synopsis is rendered explicit through the aesthetics of the work. Stockholm boasts a minimalist aesthetic, presumably in large part due to its restricted budget. The soundtrack is limited and the cinematography understated. The majority of the action in the first half of the film occurs on the streets of Madrid, while that of the second half takes place within the apartment of the male protagonist. This division between an external and an internal setting echoes the narrative twist and the distinct genre traits that can be applied to the two halves of the film, representing the progression of the narrative into deeper and darker psychological territory. Similarly, the color palette is markedly distinct in, and representative of the undertones of, each half of the film. The first half, taking place at night, is dominated by darkness, at times accented with red and blue lighting. This symbolizes the intrigue and excitement experienced by the characters, most notably the male protagonist, as they begin to get to know each other. Conversely, a stark, bleached-white aesthetic overwhelms the second half of the film, signifying the cold, harsh truth the characters face the morning after their night together. The female protagonist literally embodies this contrasting color palette and the conflict it represents in the clothing she wears: a simple black cardigan over a white dress. Mirrors figure prominently in the mise-en-scène, especially in the second half, symbolizing the emphasis on introspection and self-examination that dominates the latter part of the film. The aesthetics of Stockholm are thus not only striking given the restricted budget but also play a significant role in conveying the themes and ideas at the core of the film.

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Bibliography Fernández de Retana, Iñaki. “Rodrigo Sorogoyen Made a Movie on What Happens the Morning after a One-Night Stand in Madrid.” Remezcla, December 8, 2014. http:// remezcla.com/features/film/rodrigo-sorogoyen-made-movie-happens-morning-onenight-stand-madrid/ (August 1, 2016). Hamilos, Paul. “Spanish Film-makers Hit Back at ‘Cultural War’ on Funding.” Guardian, October 5, 2013. https://www.theguardian.com/world/2013/oct/05/spanish-filmmakers-hit-back-at-cultural-war (August 1, 2016). Noble, Fiona. “Review: Stockholm (Rodrigo Sorogoyen, 2013).” Spanish Cinephilia, June 11, 2014. https://spanishcinephilia.wordpress.com/2014/06/11/review-stockholmrodrigo-sorogoyen-2013/ (August 1, 2016).

—Fiona Noble

EL SUR (THE SOUTH) (1983) Director: Víctor Erice Screenplay: Víctor Erice, based on the novel by Adelaida García Morales Specs: 95 minutes; color Based on Adelaida García Morales’s eponymous novel, El sur is a slow-paced drama written and directed by Víctor Erice. The story takes place in the context of post–Civil War Spain. Narrated by 15-year-old “Estrella” (Icíar Bollaín), the film is composed of memories and fantasies as she seeks to make sense of the painful events of her childhood. The film was immediately praised by critics in Spain and abroad. It was nominated for the Palme d’Or at the Cannes Film Festival and it won the Best Feature award at the Chicago International Film Festival in 1983. Ten years after the successes of his El espíritu de la colmena, Erice turned García Morales’s novel into a superb feature-length film script that would mark the beginning of a new, and somewhat more convoluted, adventure in El sur. The film is divided into two parts, the first taking place at “La Gaviota,” a house located on the outskirts of a northern city in Spain, and featuring the relationship between Estrella (Icíar Bollaín), her father (Omero Antonutti), and her mother (Lola Cardona) during post–Civil War Spain. The second part, set in a small town of Andalucía, reveals the mystery of the father’s relationships with his family and with actor “Irene Ríos” (Aurora Clement), further developing the conflicts and storylines of the first part. Estrella’s separation from her father begins when she discovers another woman in his life, a movie star whom her father has known as Laura. The failed extramarital relationship leads to a deterioration of her parents’ marriage. Unable to rekindle his relationship with Laura, the father sinks into despair as Estrella becomes an adolescent wishing nothing more than to reach adulthood to escape the oppressive numbness of her parents’ lives. Most critics have described the film as the portrayal of a rite of passage as well as a meditation on absence and loss. As in El espíritu de la colmena, silence and absence turn out to be the ghosts against which childhood needs to fight to make its way into adulthood; they are the shadows that mark Estrella’s journey

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Omero Antonutti, Lola Cardona, and Sonsoles Aranguren. New Yorker Films / Photofest © New Yorker Films

from the mythical (and dreamlike) construction of the father to her final acceptance of his weaknesses and limitations. Like Erice’s first feature film, El sur is a child’s-eye view of a world that the protagonist is not yet equipped to fully understand. It focuses once again on a young girl’s maturation. Set in 1957, it is framed by the later adult voice of Estrella, whose father’s suicide is revealed. The film then enters into a flashback, taking viewers from Estrella’s childhood fascination with her father to her adolescent disillusion. Although the producer, Elías Querejeta, loved the script, he found the length—originally a three-hour film—unworkable, which forced Erice to reduce its length to two hours. Due to the alterations in length, Querejeta decided to add Estrella’s voice-over in a distant past to fill in the narrative gaps from the deleted parts of the screenplay. Indeed, for those familiar with García Morales’s novel, the film is only a fragment of a more ambitious project that was forestalled, but for the rest it was simply another of Erice’s masterpieces. The achievements of the film include the moving depiction of significant topics such as the adolescent world, the complex relationship between a daughter and her father, the fascination created by cinema, life in a lost town during the post–Civil War years, and the projection of a mythical South through the brief presence of the elderly maid, “Milagros” (Rafaela Aparicio). As in all of Erice’s

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films, the cinematography is mesmerizing, often achieving a hypnotic quality, and the acting is outstanding. See also Víctor Erice (Appendix A) Bibliography Compitello, Malcolm A. “Making El sur.” Revista Hispánica Moderna 46, no. 1 (1993): 73–86. Ehrlich, Linda C. The Cinema of Víctor Erice: An Open Window. Lanham, MD: Scarecrow Press, 2007.

—Santiago Juan-Navarro

•  T • TACONES LEJANOS (HIGH HEELS) (1991) Director: Pedro Almodóvar Screenplay: Pedro Almodóvar Specs: 112 minutes; color Tacones lejanos is the ninth film by Pedro Almodóvar, one of the most acclaimed among Spain’s contemporary directors. The film was coproduced by El Deseo and CiBy 2000 (respectively, the production company founded by Almodóvar himself and a French company for independent films). The film was not as well received in Spain as it was in France and Italy. Tacones lejanos was nominated for the Golden Globe and won the César for Best Foreign Film and the 1992 Sant Jordi Award for Best Spanish Actress. The story, set in Madrid, focuses on the unsolved troubles and resentments between popular singer “Becky del Páramo” (Marisa Paredes) and her daughter, TV anchorwoman “Rebecca Giner” (Victoria Abril). The film begins with the depiction of some scenes from Rebecca’s childhood in which Becky is shown as self-absorbed and focused primarily on her career, for which she leaves for Mexico when Rebecca is still very young. The contemporary story regards Becky’s

Victoria Abril and Marisa Paredes. Miramax / Photofest © Miramax

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return from Mexico after more than two decades. Rebecca, now 27, is married to “Manuel Sancho” (Féodor Atkine), her mother’s ex-boyfriend. The three of them watch the performance of “Lethal” (Miguel Bosé), a drag queen who impersonates Becky’s songs in a nightclub and who is actually an undercover agent named Hugo. While Manuel reveals to Becky his intentions to divorce Rebecca, the latter has a sexual intercourse with Lethal in the dressing room. After a month, Manuel is shot dead in his house; the investigation is conducted by agent Hugo, who, it is later revealed, is also Domínguez, the judge dealing with the case. Suspects are both Rebecca and her mother, the latter having become Manuel’s lover before his death. After some reticence, Rebecca confesses to having killed her husband and is arrested; the scene of her first night in prison melodramatically juxtaposes her suffering with her mother’s return concert and the performance of the song “Piensa en mi cuando sufre” (“Think of Me When You Suffer”), sung by Luz Casal. The judge, who is not convinced of Rebecca’s guilt, organizes an encounter between her and her mother, a very dramatic moment during which Rebecca denies having killed her husband, Manuel, but simultaneously confesses to having swapped her father-in-law’s pills when she was a child and thus having caused his death. After discovering that she is pregnant and the baby is probably Lethal’s, Rebecca is released from prison and encounters Judge Domínguez, who proposes to her. In the meantime, Becky has a heart attack, caused by an illness that she concealed from everyone. Rebecca then finally admits her murder of Manuel and Becky takes public responsibility for it in order to protect her. The film concludes with the moving deathbed scene, which is set a few days later and relieves the guilt of both mother and daughter. There are several close-ups on shoes and heels throughout the film, which give directionality to the movements of the characters but also define their positions toward each other. As is the case with many productions by Almodóvar, Tacones lejanos offers a mixture of different genres, being both a melodrama and a crime thriller. The film also exemplifies perfectly the director’s preference for taboo subjects and for visual and thematic excess. The centrality of a crossdressing character (typical of many of the director’s films) alludes to a conception of gender as fluid, especially if we consider that Lethal is actually heterosexual. The theme of the bad mother resonates throughout the story. It alludes to many mother-daughter melodramas, such as Douglas Sirk’s Imitation of Life (1959) and Ingmar Bergman’s Autumn Sonata (1978). The centrality of the female voice assumes fundamental importance in the narrative. The film is also very ironic, being filled with gags and ironic juxtapositions, such as the choreographed dance of a song by the female inmates of the prison. One of the most hilarious sequences is probably Rebecca’s live confession of Manuel’s murder on the TV news she presents, during which the translator for the sign language (another lover of Manuel) unwillingly translates Rebecca’s words till the end of the confession and then flees, terrified. See also Los abrazos rotos (Broken Embraces); Victoria Abril (Appendix A); Pedro Almodóvar (Appendix A); Carne trémula (Live Flesh); La flor de mi secreto (The Flower of My Secret); La ley del deseo (Law of Desire); Mujeres al borde de

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un ataque de nervios (Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown); Marisa Paredes (Appendix A) Bibliography D’Lugo, Marvin. Pedro Almodóvar. Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 2006.

—Antonio Sanna

TAMBIÉN LA LLUVIA (EVEN THE RAIN) (2010) Director: Icíar Bollaín Screenplay: Paul Laverty Specs: 103 minutes; color As a film within a film, También la lluvia, by Spanish director Icíar Bollaín, interweaves two stories: the shooting of a film in Cochabamba, Bolivia, focusing on the Spanish abuse of the indigenous communities during the conquest of the Americas and, simultaneously, a water conflict, led by local indigenous groups opposing the privatization and administration of a natural resource by a transnational company. Bollaín’s movie received much recognition, including three Goya Awards (Best Supporting Actor, Best Original Score, and Best Production Manager) and six Círculo de Escritores Cinematográficos (Cinema Writers Circle) Awards for Best Supporting Actor, Best Film, Best Director, Best Screenplay, Best Score, and Best Cinematography in 2011. In Mexico, También la lluvia won the Best Latin American Film Ariel Award, in 2011. Due to the lower cost of shooting a film in the Andean country, young Mexican filmmaker “Sebastián” (Gael García Bernal) and Spanish producer “Costa” (Luis Tosar) are filming a historical fiction questioning the actions of “Christopher Columbus” (Karra Elejalde) toward the indigenous population in La Española (Dominican Republic). However, the international film project is threatened by a social uprising, led by “Daniel” (Juan Carlos Aduviri) (the main actor of the historical drama), against a foreign company planning to control the local water resources. The plot, based on a true conflict between the residents of Cochabamba and the transnational corporation Bechtel (The Water War, 2000), highlights the suffering of underdeveloped, impoverished communities within the market economy. Concurrently, Bollaín shows the viewers what Sebastián is unable to appreciate: the colonial abuse that the young director tries to portray in his film is what allows him to lower the cost of the film by benefitting from cheap labor. Consequently, in También la lluvia contemporary globalization and the film industry represent updated expressions of colonialism, and the movie denounces more than 500 years of continuous indigenous exploitation. See also Icíar Bollaín (Appendix A); Flores de otro mundo (Flowers from Another World); Katmandú, un espejo en el cielo (Kathmandu Lullaby); La marrana (The Sow); Te doy mis ojos (Take My Eyes); Luis Tosar (Appendix A)

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Bibliography Cilento, Fabrizio. “Even the Rain: A Confluence of Cinematic and Historical Temporalities.” Arizona Journal of Hispanic Cultural Studies 16, no. 16 (2012): 245–58. Hulme-Lippert, Michelle. “Negotiating Human Rights in Icíar Bollaín’s También la lluvia.” Journal of Latin American Cultural Studies 25, no. 1 (2016): 105–22. Prádanos, Luis. “Iluminando el lado oscuro de la modernidad occidental: colonialismo, neocolonialismo y metalepsis en También la lluvia de Icíar Bollaín.” Confluencia 30, no. 1 (2014): 87–100. Santaolalla, Isabel. The Cinema of Icíar Bollaín. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2012.

—Vania Barraza

TAPAS (TAPAS) (2005) Directors: José Corbacho and Juan Cruz Screenplay: José Corbacho and Juan Cruz Specs: 87 minutes; color Tapas is the feature-length directorial debut for both José Corbacho and Juan Cruz, set in their hometown of L’Hospitalet, on the outskirts of Barcelona. The film’s original soundtrack was composed by the Argentine composer and sound designer Pablo Sala and includes an original soundtrack performed by Spanish singer-songwriter Antonio Orozco, who, like the film’s directors, also spent his childhood in L’Hospitalet. The film won in the category of Best New Director at the Premios Goya 2005, where Elvira Mínguez also won Best Supporting Actress for her role as Raquel. Tapas is an ensemble comedy-drama that revolves around a group of neighbors in L’Hospitalet. With the working-class neighborhood of L’Hospitalet serving as a backdrop, the lives of its residents intersect in surprising ways over the course of a few days. While the film’s narrative focuses on the lives of its protagonists, long and medium shots of the neighborhood at the beginning and again at the end of the film anchor the plotline firmly in a sense of place that links the characters to one another. The film’s first scene opens onto a medium shot of Raquel, a middle-aged woman and proprietor of the neighborhood grocery, engaging in cybersex with her long-distance lover, “Edgardo” (Eduardo Blanco), whom she has never met in person. The potentially taboo nature of the opening scene anticipates the film’s direct approach to tackling a number of weighty topics, including racial prejudice, the sale of recreational drugs, and euthanasia. Living alone since her husband left her two years earlier, Raquel finds herself overcome with a loneliness that is exacerbated by the callous remarks of women who make backhanded comments about her marital status while purchasing anchovies and canned goods in her shop. When one of them sends her son, “César” (Rubén Ochandiano), to fix Raquel’s VCR player, Raquel and the young man discover an undeniable attraction between them despite their significant age difference. The sexual tension continues to mount when Raquel and César bump into each other at the neighborhood bar and again in the supermarket where

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César stocks shelves. He helps Raquel select a bottle of wine and she invites him to dine at her apartment to thank him for helping her with the VCR player. The two begin an affair, much to the surprise of “Opo” (Darío Paso), César’s close friend and coworker. Unlike César, who is rather shy and private about his love life, Opo seems to be constantly on the prowl, though apparently not very successfully. Between shifts stocking shelves at the supermarket, he meticulously plans his summer escapades at Spain’s music festivals, where he hopes to meet (and sleep with) women from all over Europe. For this trip, and César’s upcoming birthday party, Opo looks to score ecstasy pills from his local dealer. Surprisingly, the dealer is “Doña Conchi” (María Galiana), an elderly woman, well liked in the neighborhood, who sells drugs to neighborhood youths in order to supplement her pension, which she claims isn’t even enough to buy cat food. Conchi is determined to do what is needed to support herself and her husband, “Mariano” (Alberto de Mendoza), who is dying of cancer. Although she is very involved in public neighborhood life, Conchi prefers not to discuss her private struggles, instead telling neighbors that Mariano stays home simply because he prefers not to go out in the heat of summer. Only Opo is aware of Mariano’s medical condition because he sometimes chats with him while stopping in to buy pills from Conchi at her apartment. What no one other than Conchi knows is that Mariano has decided to end his life and that despite her best efforts Conchi has been unsuccessful in convincing him that life is worth living regardless of his medical prognosis. Bar Lolo serves as a central meeting point for the film’s diverse array of characters. “Lolo” (Ángel de Andrés), the proprietor and manager of the eponymous bar, is the embodiment of Spanish machismo. Early on in the film, Lolo’s wife and the bar’s chef, Rosalía, packs her bags and moves out after years of being overworked and underappreciated by her husband, leaving him without a cook and overwhelmed by the task of running the bar on his own. Finding a new cook at the end of July, just as most Spaniards are preparing for the customary monthlong August holiday, proves more difficult than expected and Lolo has no choice but to hire a Chinese immigrant, “Mao” (Alberto Jo Lee), who comes recommended by an acquaintance. Lolo’s machismo is accompanied by a heavy dose of xenophobia; he is extremely reluctant about working with Mao and insists that he stay in the kitchen and out of sight so that none of his regular clients will find out that Rosalía has left him or that he has hired a Chinese chef to replace her. In spite of Lolo’s prejudices, Mao turns out to be an excellent chef and a hard worker. The world-famous chef—and native of L’Hospitalet—Ferran Adrià makes a cameo appearance as the host of a television show Mao studies in order to learn how to prepare traditional Spanish dishes such as scallops a la gallega. As the unlikely pair makes preparations for César’s birthday party, to be hosted at the bar, Lolo begins to realize that the bar is thriving with Mao’s help. The night of César’s birthday celebration the narrative reaches its denouement, each of the protagonists finding himself or herself at a personal turning point. After receiving news that Edgardo will be arriving from Argentina in a matter of days, Raquel and César decide to end their relationship. Disillusioned, César half-heartedly celebrates his birthday with Opo and friends at Bar Lolo,

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dining on a spread of Spanish dishes prepared by Mao. Meanwhile, Conchi and Mariano enjoy a final meal together in their home. They exchange gifts and dance under the stars on their patio before ingesting a lethal dose of painkillers. The following morning, as the sun rises over L’Hospitalet, Conchi and Mariano lie lifeless in their bedroom, locked in an embrace. Meanwhile, Lolo leaves the bar in Mao’s care as he drives out of town for his summer vacation and, perhaps, to mend his marriage as well. While returning the repaired VCR player, César encounters Edgardo on Raquel’s doorstep. César leaves the VCR player with Edgardo and heads off with Lolo, who arrives with camping equipment for their trip to Benicàssim. Tapas offers a window into the lives of the residents of L’Hospitalet. Despite the trials and tribulations in the lives of the protagonists, the film’s staging suggests that the days portrayed in the film are like any other. Or, in other words, the film suggests that the lives of the people in any neighborhood are much more complex than they might seem on the surface. The film is also significant because at the time of its release Tapas constituted one of very few mainstream media representations of a Chinese migrant in Spain. —Mary Kate Donovan

TASIO (TASIO) (1984) Director: Montxo Armendáriz Screenplay: Montxo Armendáriz Specs: 96 minutes; color The movie tells the story of Anastasio Ochoa Ruiz (Tasio), a charcoal maker and poacher born in 1916 in Zúñiga, a small town of Navarra neighboring the Basque Country. Ochoa, who died in 1989, became a symbol of freedom and independence after refusing to move to the city in a time of economic hardship in Spain. He devoted his entire life to working in the countryside and was one of the few men able to keep the ancestral tradition of charcoal making in Navarra at the end of the 20th century. Tasio is the first full-length movie by director Montxo Armendáriz and remains one of the most relevant films of Basque cinema of the 1980s. Featuring the work of the prestigious Spanish cinema producer Elías Querejeta, the movie obtained a special mention at the San Sebastián International Film Festival in 1984 and the Best Film award in the Chicago and Biarritz festivals, among other distinctions. Tasio accurately follows the events and development of the charcoal maker and features different actors in each of the stages of his life. Although this coming-of-age film depicts his childhood (Garikoitz Mendigutxia) and adolescence (Isidro José Solano), most of the film is devoted to the events that occurred during adulthood (Patxi Bisquert). The story begins with scenes of eight-year-old Tasio and his life in the hills, where he has to work in order to provide for his poor family. Throughout this part of the movie, the audience learns different aspects about the main character, who is portrayed as a naughty boy who steals baby birds from their nests and touches girls’ bottoms. As a testimony of a specific time and place, the director purposefully focuses on certain practices that are

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Patxi Bisquert. C.B. Films S.A. / Photofest © C.B. Films S.A.

part of the people’s lives in the region. Some of these traditions are specific of childhood (playing with a big metal hoop, using the slingshot), while other actions such as hunting, playing a game named Basque pelota, or dancing in the town’s main square are common in adults. In the bucolic setting of the Sierra de Urbasa, Tasio grows and starts to develop a strong sense of freedom closely attached to nature. This tendency to anarchy often causes the young protagonist to be in trouble with Antonio, the local priest (Miguel Ángel Rellán), who punishes him for not attending catechism classes. As the main character grows, he starts to experience the harshness of life in the mountains. Thanks to the teachings of his father (Enrique Goicoechea), Tasio learns how to prepare the coal cellar, properly filling the fireplace with firewood and tightly packing it with a large stick while the smoke comes out abundantly. This ritual, repeatedly reflected in the movie, symbolizes the continuity of a rural tradition and the survival of a way of life that only a few are able to keep. Also relevant to the adolescent is the first meeting with “Paulina” (Amaia Lasa), a young girl from a neighboring town with whom he falls in love at a dance. As an adult, Tasio joins his brother (Nacho Martínez) in transporting grain sacks, but at a certain point he refuses to keep working due to the low wages they receive. For the first time, he clearly states his will to survive on hunting and charcoal making rather than depending on others. As a result of this decision, differences arise in the family; while his father supports his will to be independent, his mother (Elena Uriz) and the brother disagree and show concern for the lack of income. Tasio’s adult life passes amid both economic difficulties and moments of joy related to nature and love. He perfects his hunting techniques

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and manages to survive with the prey he obtains. However, he starts to feel the pressure of the game warden, who suspects he is using illegal traps for hunting. He also has to deal with people who do not pay for the charcoal he provides. The economic difficulties in the town become evident when his best friend “Luis” (José María Asín) tells him he is going to the city for work. Despite the sadness of the news surrounding him, Tasio is determined to keep up with the life of his ancestors no matter how awkward the situation becomes. At the same time, the main character progressively wins Paulina’s heart and the relationship consolidates. She eventually gets pregnant and the couple is forced to marry sooner than expected. The wedding and the imminent birth of a daughter pose a problem for the economic well-being of the family, but Tasio is finally able to provide for his spouse and daughter only working by himself. One day, the game warden reports Tasio for using traps while hunting in the river. The corporal of the Guardia Civil in the town (Francisco Hernández) shows no mercy for him and handcuffs him to a door for an entire night as punishment. Later in the story, the charcoal maker is told that Paulina has fallen seriously ill, thus aggravating the situation of the family. Tasio again faces the dilemma of whether to leave his traditional trade when his brother asks him to get involved in a cooperative. The main character refuses the offer, according to his reluctance to accept any sort of job that might jeopardize his freedom and independence. Nobody seems to be able to change his mind, despite the fact that many people were moving to the city in search of jobs at that time. Tasio finds himself alone again after the death of his spouse and the maturation of his daughter, “Elisa” (also played by Amaia Lasa). Having become an adult, she announces her pregnancy and her will to marry her boyfriend, Patxi. She proposes the idea that all three of them move to the city together, but, once again, Tasio prefers to remain in the solitude of the hills. In Tasio, the director uses a variety of resources to emphasize the freedom and strength of the main character and the beauty and harshness of rural life. The predictability of the plot is balanced with a wide array of techniques, including ellipsis, trackings, crane shots, and the vocal music of Basque musician Ángel Illaramendi, which reinforces the bucolic nature of the settings. As stated by Armendáriz, the movie narrates a story of friendship, love, death, solitude, tenacity, and “the will and loyalty of a man who surrendered to nobody and nothing.” One of the principal features of the film is the close proximity to documentary and ethnographic cinema. Traditions and habits of the Basque-speaking countryside of Navarra are widely portrayed and include popular sports, dances, the singing of habaneras, traditional trades, and local accents. The close ties to nonfiction genres can be explained by Armendáriz’s previous film, Nafarrako Ikazkinak (Coal Makers of Navarra, 1981). In this short documentary, released three years before Tasio, the director accurately portrays the life of the last men to produce charcoal in an artisan manner. Tasio, one of the main characters featured in the film, would captivate Armendáriz with the same spontaneity and genuineness that were ultimately immortalized in the eponymous movie. See also Las cartas de Alou (Letters from Alou); Historias del Kronen (Stories from the Kronen) —Ernest Carranza

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TATUAJE (TATTOO) (1976) Director: Bigas Luna Screenplay: Bigas Luna and José Ulloa, based on a novel by Manuel Vázquez Montalbán Specs: 85 minutes; color Tatuaje, released in 1976, is the first feature directed by director and scriptwriter Josep Joan Bigas Luna. The production is considered film noir, a genre that arrived in Spain between 1950 and 1965 yet went undeveloped until the end of the Franco years in the late 1970s, during the Spanish transition to democracy. The film is an adaptation of the first Spanish noir fiction novel Tatuaje, written in 1974 by Manuel Vázquez Montalbán. Tatuaje is named after Conchita Piquer’s copla song about a tattoo of a dead man found on Barcelona’s beach that serves as a McGuffin. The novel is a whodunit and settles the beginning of the Carvalho series, the most famous and prolific series of noir fiction in Spain. Written in only 15 days, Tatuaje offers us a description of the transformations and social tensions in Spain after Franco’s dictatorship, through the objectivity of the private eye Pepe Carvalho. The protagonist is the key of the social critique, as he is an objective postmodern subject. First, he is a transversal character: he was born in Barcelona, but his parents are Galician immigrants, and he is a former CIA agent who now works as a private detective; so he is always an outsider everywhere he goes. And second, he is as marginal as he is refined, which means he knows how to deal with both high society and the underworld. The plot of the film revolves around “Pepe Carvalho” (Carlos Ballesteros), a private detective. He’s at his girlfriend’s home, a prostitute named “Charo” (Pilar Velázquez), when a hairstylist arrives asking for him because her boss needs a “job” done. Carvalho reluctantly goes to see “Mr. Ramón” (Carlos Lucena), the husband of a hairdresser called “Queta” (Carmen Liaño), who commissions him to find out the identity of a man who has been found dead at the beach. The fish have eaten the man’s face and with no other methods of identifying the man, Carvalho must rely on the body’s tattoo that reads, “I was born to stir up Hell.” Carvalho finds out that the man worked in Philips at The Hague and that the tattoo seems to have been finished in Amsterdam, so he decides to travel to the Netherlands. Once there, he discovers the man’s name, “Julio Chesma,” but he also learns he left Philips in order to work with a drug dealer in Amsterdam. Once he has the information Ramón wants, Carvalho becomes interested in the relationship between him and Julio Chesma, and continues his investigation. Carvalho returns to Barcelona and goes to visit one of Julio’s lovers, “Teresa Marsé” (Mónica Randall). Teresa is a well-educated woman from the Catalan bourgeoisie, but Pepe is sure the tattoo makes reference to a noneducated lover who was infatuated with him, as the copla song suggests. Thanks to his girlfriend, Charo, and a prostitute friend, known as “la Andaluza” (Terele Pávez), he learns that there is a strong bond between the hairstylist’s family, Los Telis, and Ramón. Becoming intimate with Teresa, Carvalho discovers she has a house at the beach, at Caldetas, where Julio used to go with his lovers as she did, and even once saw him with an attractive woman. Sure about her identity, Carvalho

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harasses Queta and then Ramón for a more complete the picture of their interactions, before solving the mystery and watching the culprits violently attack each other in attempt to cover up their tracks. See also Josep Joan Bigas Luna (Appendix A); Las edades de Lulú (The Ages of Lulu); Jamón, jamón (Jamon, Jamon); La teta y la luna (The Tit and the Moon) Bibliography Balibrea, Mari Paz. “In Search of a New Realism: Manuel Vázquez Montalbán and the Spanish Novela Negra.” In Iberian Crime Fiction, edited by Nancy Vosburg, 28–50. Cardiff: University of Wales Press, 2011 Pardo, Pedro Javier, and Javier Sánchez Zapatero. Sobre la adaptación y más allá. Salamanca: Ediciones Universidad de Salamanca, 2014. Pisano, Isabel. Bigas Luna: sombras de Bigas, luces de Luna. Madrid: SGAE, 2001. Rodrigues-Moura, Enrique. Indicios, señales y narraciones: literatura policíaca en lengua española. Innsbruck: Innsbruck University Press, 2010. Vázquez Montalbán, Manuel. Tatuaje. Barcelona: Plaza y Janés, 1976.

—Sabrina Vaquerizo González

TE DOY MIS OJOS (TAKE MY EYES) (2003) Director: Icíar Bollaín Screenplay: Icíar Bollaín and Alicia Luna Specs: 109 minutes; color In contemporary Toledo, mousey “Pilar” (Laia Marull) and her son escape to her sister’s home, fleeing her physically abusive husband, “Antonio” (Luis Tosar). Desperate to reconcile, Antonio reluctantly joins an anger management therapy group consisting of other abusive husbands. Pilar, meanwhile, gets a job in a museum bookshop, renews her enthusiasm for art, and eventually volunteers to be a museum guide. Despite the frequent hospital visits from past attacks and Antonio’s explosive temper, Pilar decides to go back to him because of her persistent love for him. While Antonio continues to have explosive outbursts, their relationship improves somewhat as he applies techniques he has learned in therapy, stopping short of physically assaulting Pilar, even in his most furious moments. His anger frequently boils to the surface, however, over the thought of how Pilar now dresses for her new job, afraid that she will leave him for another man. Antonio, who desires a comfortable middle-class life (perhaps evident in the numerous gifts for his son), is also frustrated with his job as an appliance salesman. Eventually, though, his jealousy over Pilar’s happiness over a potential new job with a museum in Madrid, combined with his own insecurities and self-loathing, overrides what he has learned in therapy; he humiliates Pilar in a manner that leaves her no other option but to leave him. Te doy mis ojos was expansion of the 20-minute short Bollaín wrote and directed entitled Amores que matan (2000). That film also starred Luis Tosar as abusive husband Antonio. This short contains documentary segments, with a plea at the end for the two million Spanish women who are victims of domestic violence. Although domestic violence is a universal problem, it can be argued

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that Amores que matan and Te doy mis ojos particularly indict the machismo culture associated with Francoist Spain. Te doy mis ojos treats the issue in a more realistic manner than in Hollywood depictions. Antonio may not be entirely sympathetic, but the film does attempt to show the mind-set of many abusive husbands. It remains only one of three films to take home the five major Goya Awards (for Best Film, Director, Actor, Actress, and Screenplay), the other two being ¡Ay, Carmela! (1990) by Carlos Saura and Mar adentro (2004) by Alejandro Amenábar. With its credible performances, subtle direction, and powerful subject matter, few films have tackled the epidemic of domestic violence in a more nuanced manner. See also Flores de otro mundo (Flowers from Another World); Katmandú, un espejo en el cielo (Kathmandu Lullaby); Candela Peña (Appendix A); También la lluvia (Even the Rain); Luis Tosar (Appendix A) —Zachary Ingle

LA TETA Y LA LUNA (THE TIT AND THE MOON) (1994) Director: Bigas Luna Screenplay: Cuca Canals and Bigas Luna Specs: 90 minutes; color La teta y la luna is a 1994 film directed by Bigas Luna and the last movie in his “Iberian trilogy” along with Jamón, jamón (1992) and Huevos de oro (Golden Balls, 1993). The film tells the story of nine-year-old Tete’s search for a breast of his own following the birth of his little brother. The film won the Golden Osella award for Best Screenplay at the 1994 Venice Film Festival, and won Bigas Luna the Young European Jury Award at the Mons International Festival of Love Films in 1995. The plot is narrated by nine-year-old “Tete” (Biel Durán) and revolves around his pursuit of “Estrellita” (Mathilda May); Tete hopes to win her breast and its milk for himself after his baby brother monopolizes his mother’s (Laura Mañá) milk. As the film opens, Tete and his fellow “castellers” are building a human tower, or “castell.” Tete, the anxaneta (the kid who must climb to arrive at the top), tries to climb while his father (Abel Folk) urges him on, but he is scared and the tower falls before he succeeds. Tete’s mother gives birth to his baby brother, and Tete is jealous that he can drink from his mother’s breast while Tete cannot. Later, at the beach with his grandfather (Xavier Massé), Tete asks the moon to send him a breast just for him; in answer to his wish, cabaret performer Estrellita and her French pétomane husband, “Maurice” (Gérard Darmon), arrive in town and move into a campsite where two of Tete’s friends, “Miquel” (Miguel Poveda) and “Stallone” (Genís Sánchez), work. Miquel is immediately attracted to Estrellita and pursues her, singing to her constantly, and Tete is also enamored with her. Gifting Estrellita his pet frog, he asks for her breast and her milk, imagining that she takes her breast out and squirts milk into his mouth, before Miquel chases him away. At the cabaret Miquel and Tete watch Estrellita dance, and Maurice does his farting act. After the show Estrellita tells Miquel to leave her alone, but he

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refuses, saying that he will commit suicide if he can’t be with her. It is revealed that Maurice is impotent, and he is afraid that Estrellita wishes to be with a younger man who can satisfy her. However, Estrellita swears that she will never leave him, and a bizarre sequence depicts Estrellita enjoying sexual activities including licking Maurice’s feet and collecting his tears in a bottle. At home, Tete’s dad reprimands him for continually running off without his parents’ consent and lectures him on his duty as an anxaneta, referring to their Roman heritage, while Tete imagines him dressed up as a Roman centurion. Meanwhile, Estrellita rejects Miquel again and Stallone gives him a ride home on his motorbike. Afterward Stallone is involved in a fatal motorbike accident, leaving Miquel devastated, and Estrellita feels sorry for him; one night she admits that she is attracted to him, and they have sex. Maurice knows of her infidelity and is willing to overlook it at first, but soon he becomes jealous and locks her in their caravan. Tete, Miquel, and Maurice all converge at the caravan, resulting in a fight between Maurice and Miquel, which Estrellita stops. She continues her affair with Miquel, but while they are having sex Estrellita’s waterbed is punctured, and the water floods out into the caravan. Estrellita then apologizes to Maurice for the affair and they reconcile and leave the campsite. At the end of the film, Tete is climbing a “castell” again, and he looks up and imagines he sees Estrellita pulling out her breast for him. He makes it to the top, and while his team celebrates he imagines that he is drinking from Estrellita’s breast, and then from the breast of his mother. In the final scene, Tete imagines that Estrellita takes Miquel away with her and Maurice, and that Miquel sings as part of their show while Estrellita enjoys relationships with both men. The narrative of the film is unconventional as it is focalized through Tete, whose overactive imagination disrupts a traditional narrative style by mixing realistic and fantastical elements during this Oedipal narrative. One of its most important themes is Catalan identity; the film was shot in Catalan and includes Catalan activities such as the building of “castells” and the eating of pa amb tomáquet (bread with tomato). It also has an inclusive message, depicting diverse characters from Catalonia, France, and Portugal, and mixing the high culture of ballet with the lowbrow scatology of the fart show. See also Josep Joan Bigas Luna (Appendix A); Las edades de Lulú (The Ages of Lulu); Jamón, jamón (Jamon, Jamon); Tatuaje (Tattoo) —Laura Birkin

TIERRA (EARTH) (1996) Director: Julio Medem Screenplay: Julio Medem Specs: 125 minutes; color Tierra is the second (and finest) feature film directed by Julio Medem, and one of the masterpieces of 1990s Spanish cinema. Similar to all of Medem’s highly subjective works, the film opens up a gateway to various interpretations; some

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critics have described it as an exercise in metaphysical cinema, while others have referred to it as a haunting journey into the world of human behavior. Tierra was nominated for four Goya Awards and won two (for Best Original Score and Best Special Effects). “Ángel” (Carmelo Gómez), an exterminator recently released from a mental hospital, considers himself half man, half angel; half alive, half dead. He believes his consciousness is ruled by a voice that addresses him from the cosmos. When he arrives at a small wine-making town with the mission to rid its soils of a pest responsible for giving their product an “earthy” taste, he becomes involved with two attractive local women: “Mari” (Silke), who is shameless, lustful, and single; and “Ángela” (Emma Suárez), who is shy, chaste, and married. Each of these women awakens Ángel’s instincts, in accordance with various aspects of his complex personality. The theme of binaries is one of the dominant motifs of this film. Ángel’s schizophrenia is not only embodied by his split personality, but it also affects the way the spectator witnesses the events. As in his previous film (La ardilla roja, 1993), Medem plays with the suspense and deceit of the character’s hypersensitive personality to depict situations in which things that we first perceive in a certain way soon reveal themselves as having a completely different (and sometimes opposite) meanings. The recurrent play with the double is already present in the presentation of the character’s “angel,” although it does not work in the same way as in La ardilla roja. In Tierra Ángel’s double removes the character from apparent reality by placing him in contact with a death, which according to the protagonist, already inhabits his split self (he is part of both the world of the living and the world of the dead). Ángel’s double is a dead person or at least his dead part, characterized by his ghastly makeup. The presence of the character’s double is constant in Tierra and the confusion it creates in his life is patent, strongly affecting the story’s development. However, it is only Ángel who sees his alter ego, showcased in the sequence in which he meets Ángela. As Medem himself has declared, the voice that originates in the protagonist’s mind is the sound of his angst, the fragile voice of his existence that he calls his “angel.” The character of the story, therefore, creates another character, an alter ego who has ceased to exist but who speaks through his mind. Tierra is the film by Medem that best and most clearly reflects an identity crisis. Much of this theme was previously developed in his earlier works, such as Vacas (1992) and La ardilla roja (1993). In Vacas the identity search led the main characters to flee into madness or to another country; in La ardilla roja, the duplicity of deceit was the driving theme; and in Tierra, Ángel’s double helps him to deal with his lack of identity. Wanting to live a “normal” life, Ángel must escape his double, eventually abandoning him in the end. The protagonist’s endless split vanishes as soon as he decides to be a single self. See also La ardilla roja (The Red Squirrel); Vacas (Cows) Bibliography Stone, Rob. Julio Medem. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2012.

—Santiago Juan-Navarro

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TIOVIVO C.1950 (TIOVIVO C.1950) (2004) Director: José Luis Garci Screenplay: José Luis Garci and Horacio Valcárcel Specs: 150 minutes; color Tiovivo c.1950 is a 2004 film directed by José Luis Garci. The feature is set in Madrid in 1950, a moment in which Spain was suffering from a complex economic crisis and facing international isolationism that started after World War II. Tiovivo c.1950 tells the story of several characters from different social classes, played by the some of the most popular actors of the early 21st century, such as Agustín González, Ángel de Andrés, María Asquerino, Alfredo Landa, Carlos Hipólito, Francis Lorenzo, Elsa Pataky, Santiago Ramos, and Fernando FernánGómez. The movie was nominated for several Goya Awards, winning one for Best Art Direction. The film does not present a conventional structure (á la presentation, climax, and ending). Rather, the movie describes the living conditions and the personal experiences of various characters during several days (a happy bank director, bank employees, a coffee shop owner, a waiter, scalpers, box-office clerks, mechanics, a priest, a poet, and dancing teachers, among others). To some extent, these portrayals are dry and often stereotype-laden, but somehow represent the gamut of class and social values in Spain during this dictatorship period. The movie emphasizes the display of their problems, wishes, dreams, frustrations, and ambitions, providing dozens of subplots but without providing conclusive endings Apart from a very few superficial references to the political circumstances of those years, there is no criticism of the dictatorship itself. The film questions the character’s behavior, the social inequalities, or the cultural, moral, and political repression of that period. Instead, the film provides an avant-garde window through which different living circumstances could be viewed, offering a nostalgic—and at times idealized—portrait of 1950. See also Asignatura pendiente (Unfinished Business); Canción de cuna (Cradle Song); La colmena (The Beehive); José Luis Garci (Appendix A) —Miki Ishimori

TODO SOBRE MI MADRE (ALL ABOUT MY MOTHER) (1999) Director: Pedro Almodóvar Screenplay: Pedro Almodóvar Specs: 101 minutes; color In 1999 Pedro Almodóvar wrote and directed what was his most stylized and personal melodrama. In spite of dealing with complex, and at the time controversial, issues such as AIDS, transsexuality, female bonding, faith, existentialism, and performance, the film was a commercial and critical success both in Europe and the United States, winning the Academy Award for Best Foreign Language Film, the Golden Globe for Best Foreign Language Film, and two BAFTA Awards for

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Rosa Maria Sarda and Penélope Cruz. Sony Pictures Classics / Photofest © Sony Pictures Classics

Best Film Not in the English Language and Best Direction. Additionally, the film also won the Best Director Palme d’Or at Cannes and six Goya Awards, including Best Film, Best Director, and Best Lead Actress. The film tells the story of “Manuela” (Cecilia Roth), a grieving counseling nurse who loses her 17-year-old son, “Esteban” (Eloy Azorín), in a tragic traffic accident on his birthday. The chance of a moment transforms his mother from a nurse into a grieving parent who must make the same choices she has helped so many others to make as they went through the emotional trials of loss. After his death, Manuela reads her son’s notes and learns that he wanted to know, at the very least, the name of his father. Honoring his secret wishes, she returns to Barcelona to search for her ex-husband, a transvestite named “Lola” (Toni Miró), to tell him about his son’s death. In Barcelona, Manuela develops bonds with the strangers she encounters on her journey, finding closure to the tragedy of her loss. Among these strangers are “Agrado” (Antonia San Juan), a transsexual prostitute who is all feeling, laughs, and silicone; and “Rosa” (Penélope Cruz), a nun from a bourgeois family who is three months pregnant with Lola’s child and has contracted AIDS from Lola. After Rosa has the baby, she dies from AIDS, and Manuela heads back to Madrid, though now with a newborn son. In Todo sobre mi madre, Almodóvar pushes melodrama to the extreme, combining it with his unique sense of humor. As tragic as some elements in the story may seem, and as much as death and AIDS play a central part in the plot’s development, this is not a movie that always overwhelms its audience with sadness. Many glints of the old Almodóvar humor shine through, a comical side

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that reinforces the more serious assertion of the story—that which reaffirms that life goes well beyond the inevitability of death, and that life is enriched more by helping each other in the living than in trying to deal will loss alone. See also Los abrazos rotos (Broken Embraces); Pedro Almodóvar (Appendix A); La ley del deseo (Law of Desire); La mala educación (Bad Education); Matador (Matador); Marisa Paredes (Appendix A); Candela Peña (Appendix A); Tacones lejanos (High Heels); Volver (Volver) Bibliography Colmenero Salgado, Silvia. Todo sobre mi madre: estudio crítico. Barcelona: Paidós Ibérica, 2001.

—Santiago Juan-Navarro

LA TORRE DE SUSO (SUSO’S TOWER) (2007) Director: Tom Fernández Screenplay: Tom Fernández Specs: 95 minutes; color When his friend “Suso” (Alberto Rodríguez in a voice-over) dies from a heroin overdose, “Cundo” (Javier Cámara) returns from Argentina to his childhood village in Asturias (Spain) for the funeral. The initial purpose of the visit is to reunite with his old group of friends, party and toast to Suso, pretend nothing has changed, and return back. But Suso had other plans for him. La torre de Suso, a realist comedy directed by Tom Fernández, was nominated for Best New Director, Best Supporting Actor (Emilio Gutiérrez Caba), and Best New Actor (Gonzalo de Castro) at the 2008 Goya Awards. The film tells the story of 36-year-old Cundo, who comes back to his old little mining village for the first time since he left for Argentina 10 years before. Cundo gets together with his old friends “Fernando” (Gonzalo de Castro), “Pablo” (José Luis Alcobendas), and “Mote” (César Vea) to celebrate the life of Suso. But this is also a trip back to a complicated past and a journey to find himself. A decade before, the group of friends had lived a reckless youth, frequently getting into trouble, and causing their loved ones much sorrow. Their wild and unconscious way of life had adverse consequences. Some of them quit school and flirted with drugs to the point of becoming addicted. Such was the case of Suso, whose dependence led him to the ultimate consequence. All of them failed to progress in one way or another; theirs was a kind of lost generation. Now Cundo reappears in a renewed Asturias, but his past haunts him. He needs to tie up loose ends with his relatives, friends, and ex-girlfriends, and take care of these unresolved relationships before he is able to put his past behind him. His parents, “Tino” (Emilio Gutiérrez Caba) and “Mercedes” (Mariana Cordero), especially his mother, do not forget who he was and they can hardly see any changes in him. Cundo even forgets to tell them about his baby daughter. The protagonist also has to confront his ex-girlfriend “Rosa” (Fanny Gautier), who is now married to Fernando. He abandoned her with no explanation when

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leaving for Argentina. Lastly, Cundo will be forced to face the sense of guilt over Suso’s death. While he made his way out of drugs, Suso remained trapped in the Asturian mining basin. Cundo’s reappearance also destabilizes his friends’ and relatives’ lives. Fernando, the most prudent of the friends and the only one who went to college, is afraid that Cundo will not forgive him for marrying Rosa. At the same time, he fears the re-encounter of the two. He is so in love with his wife that he feels insecure to the point of not having sex with her because he fears he will never live up to her expectations. Pablo openly admits that his Dominican girlfriend, “Esmeralda” (Yalitza Hernández), is a prostitute who has sex with everyone in the village while he is driving the cattle, as he literally expresses. He seeks the approval of his friends, having to deal with Mote’s disrespect and mockery. Mote, a construction worker, is concerned about the arrival of immigrants in the village. He fears change and losing job opportunities. He does not realize that Cundo was also an immigrant in Argentina searching for new opportunities. Mercedes was used to being ignored by her son and her husband. Now she can barely accept or believe in Cundo’s intentions of reconciliation. Finally, Cundo’s arrival will force his father, Tino, a retired miner, to confront his broken-down marriage. The compliance of Suso’s last wish, the construction of a tower he had been designing for a long time with the purpose of seeing things from above, results in a happy finale for his friends. Once Suso’s friends finish the construction, they climb to the top and are able to see the village from another perspective, both literally and metaphorically. From the top of the tower, they can stand above the mining basin and look to a future in the area. The ending shows Cundo running a pizzeria in the village named “La Torre” (The Tower) with Pablo and Esmeralda as servers offering public displays of affection. In the same premises, Mote is teaching an immigrant employee how to pour cider. Cundo has started a relationship with “Marta” (Malena Alterio), a love affair of his youth, and she acts as a mother for his daughter. Rosa is happily pregnant with Fernando’s baby. Lastly, Tino finally gives attention to his wife, Mercedes, while all the family is at the dinner table. Cundo and the rest of Suso’s friends went through a process of maturation and self-discovery, and learned to accept who they are (not). Going up Suso’s tower saved them from sinking in the valley. —Francisca Aguiló Mora

TORREMOLINOS 73 (TORREMOLINOS 73) (2003) Director: Pablo Berger Screenplay: Pablo Berger Specs: 91 minutes; color Torremolinos 73 is a comedy directed by Pablo Berger. The film narrates the life of a middle-class couple in Madrid in the early 1970s. The film, a Spanish-Danish coproduction, won the Best Film, Best Actor, Best Actress, and Best Director awards at the Festival de Málaga, Cine en Español (Málaga Film Festival) in 2003.

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The film tells the story of “Alfredo López” (Javier Cámara) and his wife, “Carmen” (Candela Peña). Alfredo has a newly acquired love for movies and filming, whereas Carmen is preoccupied with becoming a mother. Both plots run parallel, yet independently, before merging together in agreement at the end of the film. Alfredo is an encyclopedia salesman, while Carmen works at a beauty salon. Trapped by their respective debts, they decide to start recording—as they are called in the film—“scientific movies” for the editorial house where Alfredo works. They agree to record such movies under the pretext of showing some Spanish reproductive traditions only to be sold in Scandinavian countries; however, what they are recording are actually pornographic movies. Paid rather well for their productions, Carmen soon becomes a famous adult film star. In the meantime, Alfredo takes an interest in the filmmaking side of the enterprise, renting various films and reading specialized books on the topic. Conversely, Carmen becomes interested in having children and soon takes advantage of the movie-making endeavor to get pregnant. While Alfredo is at the peak of his happiness writing a screenplay for a feature-length movie, Carmen feels ignored and thus devastated by Alfredo’s lack of interest. While Alfredo is absorbed in his creative process, Carmen goes by herself to the doctor, only to find out that Alfredo is sterile—news she simply shares with her partner framed within a half truth: they cannot have kids. With the “encyclopedia” business booming, Alfredo’s boss, “Mr. Carlos” (Juan Diego), decides to fund Alfredo’s film production, Torremolinos 73, with Alfredo as the director. Now that Alfredo distributes the “scientific movies” in Scandinavia, he casts Scandinavian technicians and actors, with “Magnus” (Mads Mikkelsen) as the main male role; the main female role, played by Carmen, is very much a well-known actor by the crew. Surprisingly, everything runs smoothly, until Mr. Carlos decides to change the screenplay at the very last minute to, as he remarks, “spice it up a bit.” To Alfredo’s dismay, the change requires that Carmen have sex with Magnus. While Alfredo is willing to abandon the recording, Carmen is determined to participate. On the morning of the last day of filming, Alfredo and Carmen have a very important conversation. Carmen conveys to Alfredo that she wants to become a mother at all costs and asks Alfredo if he could be a father of a nonbiological son. With some reluctance, he agrees and realizes that it is his reproductive organs, not Carmen’s, that have made it impossible to conceive. After a moment of rage, Alfredo runs onto the set to direct the last scene; if he’s unable to be the biological father of his son, he chooses to be present at the conception. Two years later, Alfredo and Carmen are celebrating the birthday of her daughter, Marisol, a beautiful blue-eyed platinum-blonde girl. In 1973, when the film Torremolinos 73 is set, Spain has become highly unstable—both economically and politically—much like relationship between Alfredo and Carmen. Immersed in a crisis, they emerge to find a nontraditional, if not grotesque, way of survival: making pornographic movies aimed at Scandinavian audiences. In the context of a very strict Catholic and morally grounded society of the Franco dictatorship, they—especially Carmen—break the taboos of religion, use condoms, and enjoy having sex. Ultimately this is a film of incred-

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ible intrigue, comedy, innovation, and symbolic commentary about life in Spain under the Franco regime. See also Blancanieves (Snow White); Candela Peña (Appendix A) —María Jesús López-Soriano

TORRENTE, EL BRAZO TONTO DE LA LEY (TORRENTE, THE DUMB ARM OF THE LAW) (1998) Director: Santiago Segura Screenplay: Santiago Segura Specs: 97 minutes; color Torrente, el brazo tonto de la ley is a comedia gamberra (gross-out comedy) written, directed, and even starring Santiago Segura. Characterized by its thick, cartoonish humor, it had a great reception from the public, making its main character part of Spanish contemporary popular imagination. The title is a parody of the film Cobra, the Strong Arm of the Law (1986) starring Sylvester Stallone. Although panned by many critics, the film won two Goya Awards (Best New Director and Best Supporting Actor) and became one of the highest-grossing films in the history of Spanish cinema. It also laid the foundations of the Torrente film saga by Santiago Segura, who also directed the sequel as well as the three subsequent parts. “Torrente” (Santiago Segura) is a lazy, rude, drunk, sexist, racist, extremely right-wing police officer in Madrid—a despicable character who only cares about himself. He lives in a decrepit slum with his wheelchair-bound father, whom he treats quite poorly. The plot, which aims to spoof Dirty Harry formulas, sends Torrente on the trail of drug dealers using a Chinese restaurant as a front. But the story is actually the least interesting element, as the film is actually a showcase window through which audiences view the sleaziest, dirtiest, most loathsome police officer one could imagine. Indeed, Segura does not give the character a moment of redemption, as this film and its plot remain dark and obnoxious until the very end. Segura brilliantly portrays the cowardly lout who will save the day only if he stands to gain something. Carefully designed to offend everyone, Torrente is the most politically incorrect character in the history of Spanish cinema: race, sex, religion, and the handicapped are all fair game. With this film, Santiago Segura, Álex de la Iglesia’s favorite actor and creator of the brilliant short Perturbado, joins a new generation of Spanish filmmakers who aim at producing commercial cinema without renouncing auteurism. With Torrente, Segura follows the steps of his mentor, de la Iglesia, in a film that combines violent action with a dirty humor—similar to his own role as an unemployed policeman who becomes a pathetic and vulgar Dirty Harry from Madrid. Segura succeeds in combining the picaresque undertones of the Spanish comedy in the tradition of Rafael Azcona and Luis García Berlanga within the police action genre, without sparing graphic scenes of gore. The film also includes multiple cameos that include Javier Bardem, Tony Leblanc, Chus Lampreave, and Luis Cuenca, to name a few.

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As with other Spanish films that became blockbusters (Tesis, Airbag, and El día de la bestia), the film became a national comedy that lampooned the US productions of the time in the national market. See also El día de la bestia (The Day of the Beast) Bibliography Esquirol, Meritxel, and Josep Lluís Fecé. “Un freak en el parque de atracciones: Torrente, el brazo tonto de la ley.” Archivos de la filmoteca 39 (2001): 26–39.

—Santiago Juan-Navarro

TOTS VOLEM EL MILLOR PER A ELLA / TODOS QUEREMOS LO MEJOR PARA ELLA (WE ALL WANT WHAT'S BEST FOR HER) (2013) Director: Mar Coll Screenplay: Mar Coll, Valentina Viso, and Valentí Closas Specs: 120 minutes; color Originally in Catalan and dubbed in Spanish by the actors themselves, Tots volem el millor per a ella tells the story of “Geni” (Nora Navas), a middle-aged woman of the Catalan bourgeoisie who struggles to recover her ordinary life af-

Nora Navas and Àgata Roca. Wild Bunch / Photofest © Wild Bunch

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ter a serious traffic accident that has left her with physical and mental injuries. Nora Navas won the Best Actress in a Leading Role award at the Festival de Valladolid–Seminci in 2013 and at the Gaudí Awards in 2014. Clara Segura won the Gaudí Award for Best Supporting Actress that same year. The film received six more nominations at the Gaudí Awards (2014): Best Film in Catalan Language, Best Director, Best Original Screenplay (Mar Coll and Valentina Viso), Best Actress in a Supporting Role (Àgata Roca), Best Actor in a Supporting Role (Pau Durà), and Best Makeup and Hairstyling (Laura Bruy and Txus González). The lead actress was also nominated for the Best Actress award at the 2013 editions of the Goya and the Feroz Awards. Finally, the film was nominated for the Best Picture (Drama) Feroz Award the year it was released. The film begins with Geni’s appointment to her doctor one year after the accident. From this visit and subsequent scenes depicting the protagonist’s limp and recurrent mental lapses, the spectator learns that Geni still has a knee injury, as well as memory and emotional disorders. Although she needs continued physiotherapy and psychiatric treatment, she is ready to regain her personal and professional life. At least, she is strongly advised to do so by her doctor and close relatives. Not to fall short of everybody’s expectations, Geni pretends to continue working as a lawyer in her old law firm. Soon her husband, “Dani” (Pau Durà), discovers that she has quit the job, and he encourages her to find an alternative option. With the support of her sisters, “Glòria” (Clara Segura) and “Raquel” (Àgata Roca), Geni gets a job interview. Although she tries to please her family by attending the interview, she shows no interest in the position. However, an awakening encounter occurs during the group interview process. Geni runs into “Mariana” (Valeria Bertucelli), her best friend in high school. At the time, they had planned to embark on a travel adventure around the world, but Mariana left on the trip alone when Geni’s mother got terminally ill. From that moment on, they continued to live separate lives. This encounter with Mariana awakens in Geni the desire to take that trip she had been longing for. She feels incapable of resuming her life before the accident, which no longer interests her. The rest of the plot revolves around the protagonist’s plan to escape. As the title suggests, although all her family stands by her side and wants the best for her, Geni feels alone after her health crisis, which results in a personal crisis. None of her relatives seem to understand what she really needs at this point of her life, all living anchored to the past, their own fears, and surrounding social conventions. Dani, her husband, mistakes his role as a lover for that of a caregiver. His sense of responsibility does not let him embark freely on a love relationship with his sister-in-law Glòria, although the storyline subtly reveals the chemistry between them. Raquel, Geni’s older sister, is too worried with her own neurosis to pay attention to what is going through Geni’s mind. And her dad reinforces his paternalistic figure toward her now that a new sense of naïveté has arisen in her daughter. But they are not the only ones to blame. Geni herself feels trapped by her dependency on her family. Mariana is the only one who initially appears to understand her friend, but she cannot accompany her on her journey of self-(re)discovery, having to figure out her own professional future. The last scene shows Geni’s final escape and a worried Dani, who will certainly continue searching for her.

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Tots volem el millor per a ella explores the feminine anxieties vis-à-vis the family and social structure. While this is an intimist story that gravitates around the main character, this is done through the inevitable connection with the secondary characters. Often during the film Geni’s voice is shadowed by those voices of her family members. This is exactly what the film is about: Geni’s struggle to find and raise her own voice far from her current reality and her relatives’ points of view. Her voice is new to her, emanating from someone that she herself is still getting to know. After the accident—an existential turning point— she wishes to find what is best for her rather than for others. Dramatic and intimate, the film also retains a comedic touch, which is echoed in an expressionist soundtrack that does not succumb to the dramatic tone of the narrative. Mar Coll portrays Geni as a heroine who is full of strength, positivity, and joie de vivre, despite the difficulties. The main character’s disabilities and eccentricities add up to Geni’s authenticity and highlight the frailties of those other characters who conform to societal norms and expectations. Bibliography Coll, Mar, and Nora Navas. Versión española. Interview by Cayetana Guillén Cuervo. TVE, March 6, 2016. http://www.rtve.es/alacarta/videos/version-espanola/versionespanola-todos-queremos-mejor-para-ella-coloquio/3512478/ (January 10, 2017). Heredero, Carlos F. “Una mujer en crisis.” Caimán. Cuadernos de cine. Madrid: Caimán Ediciones SL, March 24, 2014. https://www.caimanediciones.es/joyas-perdidas-delcine-espanol-todos-queremos-lo-mejor-para-ella-de-mar-coll/ (January 10, 2017).

—Francisca Aguiló Mora

LAS 13 ROSAS (13 ROSES) (2007) Director: Emilio Martínez Lázaro Screenplay: Pedro Costa, Emilio Martínez Lázaro, and Ignacio Martínez del Pisón Specs: 100 minutes; color Las 13 rosas, directed by Emilio Martínez Lázaro in 2007, is a historical drama that tells the story of 13 young women executed by Francisco Franco’s regime shortly after the end of the Civil War. The film received 14 nominations for the 22nd Premios Goya (Goya Awards) and took home four awards: Best Supporting Actor (Manuel Cervino), Best Cinematography (José Luis Alcaine), Best Costume Design (Lena Mossum), and Best Original Score (Roque Baños). The film is set in Madrid in 1939, at the end of the Civil War when the newly established dictatorship is purging Spain of its opponents. Whereas many Spaniards decided to go into exile, many stayed and organized a resistance against the dictatorship. “Blanca” (Pilar López de Ayala) is married to “Enrique” (Asier Etxeandia), a musician who is helping his colleague “Juan Cánepa” (Enrico Lo Verso), a very vocal political activist, to escape. “Adelina” (Gabriella Pession) is the daughter of a Guardia Civil (a Spanish police corps) member (Manuel Cervino) loyal to the Republic. After working in a community kitchen during the war, “Julia” (Verónica Sánchez) starts working as a trolley ticket collector.

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Fran Perea, Nacho Fernández, and Nadia de Santiago. © Photofest

“Virtudes” (Marta Etura) and “Carmen” (Nadia de Santiago) rallied the troops in the rear guard and decide to become housekeepers and nannies for two Falangist families (Franco supporters) with the hope of avoiding reprisals. However, along with “Valentín” (Alberto Ferreiro) and “Teo” (Fran Perea), they decide to organize a group to fight the dictatorship. Juan hides at his mother-in-law’s apartment where Blanca brings him money so that he can escape. One day, Teo visits his parents’ house, but a soldier is in the house. A neighbor anxiously informs him that they were reported by another neighbor and have been taken to prison. As he tries to leave the building, he is taken into custody and beaten. Teo is soon released and visits Valentín at the secret safe house. Meanwhile, Juan’s mother-in-law and a friend inform “Capitán Fontenla” (Adriano Giannini) about his political activities. As they denounce Juan, they also implicate Blanca when they mention that she brought a large sum of money to the apartment. Teo wants to radicalize the actions of the cell and proposes a robbery to get money to help the families of incarcerated comrades. Nonetheless, they decide to focus their efforts on propaganda. The group plans to throw pamphlets in front of the office of “Auxilio Social” (Social Aid). The Guardia Civil is waiting for them and captures several of the members. The same night Teo, who has turned into a police informer, takes the police to the safe house looking for the rest of the organization. During that night, most of the members of the organization are arrested. A few days later, Carmen and Teo talk on a trolley and she realizes that he is the informant. She is arrested shortly afterward and used as bait to arrest the rest of the members of the group. Enrique is also arrested due to his relationship with Juan. When Blanca brings him new clothes to the police station, she is also detained. Aware that abuses and torture are common in the holding cells, Juan,

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who had been tortured, commits suicide with a broken lightbulb while Adelina observes from an adjacent room. Blanca and Julia are taken to the prison where they reunite with Virtudes, Carmen, and Adelina. The penitentiary is crowded, but the protagonists attempt to enjoy life as much as possible. Due to the precarious conditions and the scarcity of food, babies pass away daily. The inmates demand that “Carmen Castro” (Goya Toledo), the warden of the prison, address these conditions, yet Castro informs them that she simply does not have the resources—a situation that incites nonviolent protests. Their situation changes when two members of the cell who had remained at large kill a major of the Guardia Civil, his teenage daughter, and a chauffeur. In order to set an example of consequences, 13 inmates are accused of planning to organize a communist organization and plotting a terrorist attack. They are all sentenced to death. Their petitions for pardon are ignored and they are executed on the night of the trial. See also La voz dormida (The Sleeping Voice) Bibliography Martínez, Laura. “¿Quiénes fueron las ‘Trece Rosas?’” Muy Historia. 2013. http:// www.muyhistoria.es/curiosidades/preguntas-respuestas/quienes-fueron-las-trece-rosas-811407238904 (December 5, 2014).

—Enrique Téllez-Espiga

TREN DE SOMBRAS (TRAIN OF SHADOWS) (1997) Director: José Luis Guerín Screenplay: José Luis Guerín Specs: 81 minutes; color and black and white The title of José Luis Guerin’s Tren de sombras refers to an essay written by Maxim Gorky in 1896 upon experiencing the cinema for the first time: “It is terrifying to see, but it is the movement of shadows. . . . Suddenly something clicks, everything vanishes and a train appears on the screen. It speeds straight at you—watch out! It seems as though it will plunge into the darkness in which you sit, turning you into a ripped sack full of lacerated flesh and splintered bones, and crushing into dust and into broken fragments this hall and this building, so full of women, wine, music and vice. But this, too, is but a train of shadows.” While Gorky describes the nascent medium’s fearsome immersive power over its early viewer, Guerín is aware that that viewers’ great-grandchildren, today’s cinemagoers, are trained spectators who have gotten over the fear and are eager for passive immersion in cinematic narration and spectacle. With Tren de sombras, he sets out to retrain his viewer to see the image in a way that is both new and a return to the innocence of the medium’s origins. Tren de sombras is made up of several different registers, among them fictional found footage of silent home movies, shots that recall the Lumière brothers’ films, and experimental combinations of light and sound that fit Nathaniel Dorsky’s description, in Devotional Cinema, of a “manifested act of seeing,”

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Marc Montserrat and Jessica Andrieu. Wanda / Photofest © Wanda

which “partakes in the living present and appreciates the world as something actually seen.” It is these experimental sequences, especially, that prompt a viewing mode that radically excludes narration to instead call attention to pure light and sound, an actively observant mode that prepares the viewer to perceive a barely there narrative that will appear in the fictional home movies, then disappear, and reappear again, bringing with it a mystery in the distant preterite. The brief, time-damaged home movies show the members of the family of a hobbyist moviemaker, Gérard Fleury, who disappeared mysteriously, leaving both children and footage behind. At first his films are simply screened for the viewer, who sees the family at their Normandy mansion, mugging for the camera, dancing, playing games, hiking up a nearby hill. The films are seen in a random sequence with no discernible organizing consciousness at the “moviola”—no one, that is, making decisions about what to show us and in what order. There is no intent to narrate, only to show. But to a receptive viewer a story soon appears, in glimpses of questioning eyes, exchanged glances, and background presences that reveal a mystery and invite the viewer to participate in the construction of a fragmentary narrative. A conscience at the moviola is also revealed, a presence who advances the film, reverses it to repeat shots, exploring the mystery hidden in the old images. The footage becomes evidence, and between freeze-frames and repetitions, enlargements of details and meaningful juxtapositions, the mystery deepens and the detective work carried out by the unseen editor turns more urgent. The mystery, involving infidelity, deception, and the fate of Fleury, is revealed by peripheral presences, always unobtrusive, that call into question the

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tranquil domesticity of the haute bourgeoise family, revealing it as carefully curated artifice and anxious performance. Where at first the images seen in the old footage were there to innocently entertain their viewer, as the mystery deepens the same images become charged with emotion, intrigue and, ultimately, tragedy. But since they are nothing without their nitrate medium, the materiality of the film itself enters into play, activating yet another movement. The filmic evidence is the better part of a century old, so even as the images reveal the mystery, decay renders them unreadable and threatens the increasingly desperate efforts of the inquisitive presence at the moviola. This brief description cannot come close to exhausting the formal complexity of Tren de sombras. Guerín’s film, at once partaking of experiment, documentary, and even melodrama, is an invitation for us to be better film viewers, to practice an ethics of the image as a return to the origins of moving pictures, to a spectatorship that calls for looking and listening as if it were one’s first film. In Guerín’s tour-de-force filmmaking such a mode reveals, in addition to a mystery that might otherwise go unseen, moments of unhurried wonder at light, sound, and movement. Bibliography Dorsky, Nataniel. Devotional Cinema. Berkeley, CA: Tuumba Press, 2005. Gorky, Maxim. “A Review of the Lumière Programme at the Nizhni-Novgorod Fair,” as printed in the Nizhegorodski Listok, newspaper, July 4, 1896 and signed “I.M. Pacatus.” 407–410 in Kino: A History of the Russian and Soviet Film, edited by Jay Leyda. London: Allen, 1960.

—Matt Losada

3 BODAS DE MÁS (THREE MANY WEDDINGS) (2013) Director: Javier Ruiz Caldera Screenplay: Pablo Alén and Breixo Corral Specs: 94 minutes; color 3 bodas de más is a romantic comedy directed by Javier Ruiz Caldera. In just a single hour, a young single marine biologist is invited to the weddings of three of her ex-boyfriends, all of them taking place in less than a month. This results in an emotional crisis for her. However, she decides to attend the weddings to demonstrate she is not a bitter singleton and becomes determined to find the love of her life. The plot revolves around “Ruth” (Inma Cuesta) and the bad luck she experiences with relationships. She is smart and educated. In the research laboratory, her boss, “Sara” (María Botto), who is more concerned with fast profitability rather than high-impact results, does not consider her professional ideas. She can only work closely with “Dani” (Martiño Rivas), her intern, who soon discovers how chaotic his new supervisor’s romantic life is, and how easily she gets drunk. He will be the one to accompany her to her ex-boyfriends’ nuptials.

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Inma Cuesta. Warner Bros. / Photofest © Warner Bros.

The first of these weddings is “Mikel’s” (Paco León) surf-inspired event, where Ruth meets “Jonás” (Quim Gutiérrez), a well-mannered, quiet, and timid plastic surgeon who, like Ruth, feels like he does not belong there. Ruth sees in him a potential partner. Unfortunately, he needs to leave for an emergency surgery. Believing that this is simply an excuse, Ruth gets drunk and winds up in a threesome with her intern and one of the members of the ceremony. The next day, the coworkers resolve to pretend the event never happened, and, to her delight, Ruth begins dating Jonás. The second wedding is that of Ruth’s ex-boyfriend “Álex” (Laura Sánchez), who has undergone a sex change and is now a woman. Although her relationship with Jonás is going very well, Ruth thinks that inviting him to the wedding of a transsexual boyfriend in a little Spanish village may be off-putting. Therefore, she convinces Dani to be her wedding companion again. Much to her surprise, she runs into Jonás at the wedding, as he was actually the surgeon who helped Álex with her sex change operation. At this point Ruth discovers that Jonás has a girlfriend, a wheelchair-bound woman named “Catalina” (Bárbara Santa Cruz). The surgeon justifies his dishonesty, explaining that he is only with Catalina because he feels responsible for her disability—her paraplegic condition is the result of an accident while engaging in wild sex with Jonás. While Ruth is saddened by the whole affair, Dani confronts Jonás, telling him he does not deserve someone like Ruth. On their way back home, Ruth and Dani establish a special connection. Ruth tries to kiss him, but Dani fears she might regret it and intervenes. Upon arriving at Ruth’s home, they then learn that Jonás is waiting for her. He apologizes and admits wanting to be with her and promises

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to leave his girlfriend. Stating that he just needs time, Jonás is given a second chance by Ruth. Dani does not come back to work, nor does he answer Ruth’s phone calls. When Ruth is about to attend with Jonás her last ex-boyfriend’s wedding, that of “Pedro” (Berto Romero), she receives a call from her boss, Sara. The scientific journal Nature wants to publish Ruth’s work on lobsters, the same research Sara had neglected before. Ruth is surprised because she had never sent any of her findings to the journal, but she soon realizes Dani is the one who did it for her. As a result, she can now negotiate better working arrangements with Sara. Along their drive to the wedding, Ruth realizes she does not want to continue with Jonás. She believes he will never leave Catalina and that his insecurities hamper her personality. Ruth resolves to break up with him upon arriving at the church. At that very moment, Pedro reproaches Ruth’s lack of punctuality and tells her that he expects she will dedicate some words to him during the religious celebration. For the first time, Ruth feels strong and, in contrast to his demands, confronts him, realizing she does not have, nor want, to be there. For the first time, she recognizes that only Dani has loved her the way she is and has believed in her potential both as a professional and as a woman. The film ends with Ruth seeking Dani in a fairy-tale conclusion. 3 bodas de más is predictable and often falls back on clichés so typically bound to romantic comedies, yet it is also fresh, interesting, and at times funny. This humor is both crude and witty, and the characters, especially the one portrayed by Inma Cuesta, are well developed and charming. The film was nominated for seven Goya Awards, including Best Main Actress (Inma Cuesta), Best Original Screenplay (Pablo Alén and Breixo Corral), Best New Actor (Berto Romero), and Best Production (Marta Sánchez de Miguel). It was also featured at the first edition of the Premios Feroz, where it won the Best Comedy award. The film received the Best Spanish Film Neox Fan Award. Bibliography Holland, Jonathan. “Three Weddings (Tres bodas de más): Venice Review.” Hollywood Reporter. 2013. http://www.hollywoodreporter.com/review/three-weddings-tres-bodasde-623674 (December 5, 2014).

—Francisca Aguiló Mora

TRES DIES AMB LA FAMÍLIA / TRES DÍAS CON LA FAMILIA (THREE DAYS WITH THE FAMILY) (2009) Director: Mar Coll Screenplay: Mar Coll and Valentina Viso Specs: 88 minutes; color Tres dies amb la família (2009) is Mar Coll’s directorial debut. The plot of the film revolves around the reunion of a Catalan bourgeois family following the death of its patriarch. New and long-standing family tensions arise in the three days of mourning. Coll received the Goya Award for Best New Director in 2010. The film was also featured at the 2010 Gaudí Awards, where it won the Best Film

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in Catalan Language, Best Director, and Best Actress in a Leading Role (Nausicaa Bonnín) awards. At the 12th Málaga Spanish Film Festival in 2009, the film was awarded the Silver Biznaga for Best Direction, Best Actress (Nausicaa Bonnín), and Best Actor (Eduard Fernández). Other recognitions include La Navaja de Buñuel Award (Versión española, RTVE) for Best New Film of the year, the Award Ciudad de San Sebastián Film Commission (at Donostia-San Sebastián Film Festival), and the Príncipe de Viana award for Best Direction (at the Opera Prima Film Festival Ciudad de Tudela), among numerous others. The film starts with “Léa” (Nausicaa Bonnín), an engineering student in Toulouse, returning to a humid Girona in summer for the funeral of her grandfather, the patriarch of the Vich i Carbó family. The three-day period of mourning (the wake, the funeral mass, and the burial) allows Léa to learn of the conflicts in her family from an insider/outsider perspective. She both witnesses and takes part in an atmosphere lacking communication, thwarted by emotions, and driven by the constant hypocrisies, silence, (mis)judgments, social rituals, and the fear of being unable to maintain the public image of her conservative family. Léa’s parents—her father, “Josep María” (Eduard Fernández), and mother, “Jöelle” (Philippine Leroy-Beaulieu)—separated two years earlier yet kept their arrangement a secret from the family until the day of the funeral. Léa’s relationship with Jöelle is tense, as she blames her mother for their separation, citing her father’s insecurities and unhappiness. Léa enjoys a better relationship with her father, although they both struggle to talk openly about their fears and concerns. When reunited with his older brothers and younger sister, Josep María shows an interest in establishing a deeper relationship with them, but conversations stay, in general, superficial. The older brother, “Pere” (Ramon Fontserè), plays a paternalistic role in the family, preaching morality, yet with so few personal qualities to exempt him from ultimate hypocrisy. He is especially infuriated with his sister “Virginia” (Amàlia Sancho), who wrote a book in which she explicitly narrates her father’s imperfections—something that has kept her away from him for more than 20 years. Far from learning from her father’s indiscretions, Virginia seems to repeat the same pattern with her son, “Pau” (Artur Busquets). Though showcasing dysfunctional characteristics of a family in mourning, Mar Coll does not offer a condemnatory look at the individuals themselves. Instead she portrays the family with spontaneity, and highlights the realities of the everyday miseries: lack of affection, cowardice, lovesickness, and inflicting pain on loved ones. See also Tots volem el millor per a ella / Todos queremos lo mejor para ella (We All What's Best for Her) Bibliography Jiménez, Beatriz Herrero, and Samuel Caraballo Estévez. “Negociación y ruptura en Tres días con la familia: la nueva generación del melodrama familiar.” Comunicación: revista internacional de comunicación audiovisual, publicidad y estudios culturales 10 (2012): 975–90.

—Francisca Aguiló Mora

1 •  U  • LOS ÚLTIMOS DÍAS (THE LAST DAYS) (2013) Directors: David Pastor and Àlex Pastor Screenplay: David Pastor and Àlex Pastor Specs: 101 minutes; color Set in Barcelona after a civilization-ending apocalypse whose nature is only gradually revealed, The Last Days is a groundbreaking film in many respects. It is one of the most high-profile films with significant Catalan-language content ever to be released, and it won a number of Gaudí Awards for that reason. It is also one of only a handful of postapocalyptic films not only taking place but also produced outside the United States. It was written and directed by the noted science fiction film writer-director brothers David and Àlex Pastor, native Barcelonans familiar to film lovers worldwide due to their acclaimed 2009 postapocalyptic film Carriers as well as, more recently, their screenplay for Self/Less (2015), both English-language releases. The Last Days remains their most high-profile project by, of, and primarily for Europeans, and probably the most well-known partially Catalan-language film ever. The Last Days is set in downtown Barcelona three months after the collapse of civilization worldwide. Viewers slowly learn, through a sophisticated series of flashbacks, that the cause is “the Panic,” essentially an extreme form of agoraphobia that makes the simple act of stepping outdoors almost immediately fatal. The small number of survivors, trapped inside whichever building they found themselves in when the Panic reached its crescendo, are now almost universally running out of food yet still entirely unable to venture outdoors—few options remain but to steal from other survivors. The film chronicles the harrowing experiences of “Marc” (Quim Gutiérrez), a former white-collar computer expert who had been teetering on the edge of losing both his girlfriend, “Julia” (Marta Etura), and his job just prior to the apocalypse. Having argued with Julia at the start of the Panic over her desire to have children—and initially unaware she is already pregnant—he enlists the reluctant aid of his former boss, “Enrique” (José Coronado), who is equipped not only with a still functional GPS unit but also a mysterious bag of seeds, to be reunited with her. Many serious challenges lay in store for the unlikely pair, including robbery and assault by the increasingly desperate fellow survivors, exposure to the almost instantaneously lethal effects of being outside, and even a bear attack. But in the end, Marc, thanks to a heroic sacrifice by Enrique and a death-defying dash across open space, manages to be reunited with Julia, and the final moments of the film show more than a glimmer of hope: a rapid “passage of time” montage reveals their child, born after the Panic, is able to freely venture outside. Visually beautiful, The Last Days features carefully controlled mise-enscène and more of the cinematographic flair for which the Pastor brothers justly 388

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Postapocalytpic Barcelona. Wild Bunch / Photofest © Wild Bunch

became famous after their debut film, Carriers. Stylistically, its complicated temporal structure, with its frequent and incremental flashbacks, is noteworthy and also provides the brothers with the chance, via editing, to weave together frequent visual juxtapositions between the beautiful world precollapse and the gritty world after the Panic: in these temporal transitions, characters transform on-screen from dirty, bearded, and generally unkempt to clean shaven, immaculately groomed, clad in impressive clothes, and blessed more generally with almost unimaginable luxury and convenience, before returning to the dingy filmic present, with characters munching despondently on the last, evidently rather tasteless scraps of food. Many of the premises of this film cannot withstand sustained scientific scrutiny, even granting the central conceit that a pandemic of extreme agoraphobia could sweep the earth. For instance, without any ability to move aboveground, even from house to house, the supply of food and water available to each survivor would be only whatever was on hand in the building he or she was in at the moment the Panic became universal; needless to say, very few people would be able to survive on these meager stores even for three months. It also seems unlikely that an unexceptional office worker (Marc) and an artist (Julia), with no training and no access to materials and so forth—especially water—would be able to construct, using Enrique’s seeds, a hydroponic farming system of sufficient scale to feed the three of them for years. But the film is less concerned with verisimilitude than it is with its deeper message about growing up, taking responsibility, and, above all, having children. On a more figurative level, this film is a straightforward coming-of-age story, with Marc’s immaturity gradually burned away in the crucible of the dog-eat-dog world. Before agoraphobia sweeps the globe, Marc is obviously battling his own phobia, namely one of commitment: he resists marrying Julia, and especially having children—perhaps the most serious commitment of all—due to fears (justified, as it turns out) that he might lose his job. But over the course of his traumatic journey to be reunited with Julia, he is converted to the belief that

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nothing is more important than having children (thought by the writer-directors to be a timely message, perhaps, given Spain’s fertility rate, which in 2013 was still among the lowest in the world). The film clearly endorses Marc’s conversion: in the film’s world, all must acknowledge that children are, more than ever, the future because only by having children can humanity hope to venture forth into the newly hostile world once more. Even Enrique’s seed bag can be seen as a sort of physical manifestation of the importance of reproduction, a concentrated talisman of fertility the nuclear family uses to great (if improbable) effect in the final montage. Whether this film, which could be interpreted as a concerted push to get viewers to reconsider having children, has been successful in motivating such lifestyle changes remains doubtful. It did, however, cement the reputations of the Pastor brothers as visual storytellers par excellence. See also Els nens salvatges / Los niños salvajes (The Wild Ones) —Sean O’Reilly

UN FRANCO, 14 PESETAS (CROSSING BORDERS) (2006) Director: Carlos Iglesias Screenplay: Carlos Iglesias Specs: 105 minutes; color Un franco, 14 pesetas is a 2006 film directed by Carlos Iglesias. It tells the story of two Spanish men who decide to migrate to Switzerland after being fired at the factory in which they work. The film was nominated for, among others, the Goya Award for Best New Director. It was Carlos Iglesias’s first film as a director. The film has a sequel, also directed by Iglesias, 2 francos, 40 pesetas, released in 2014. In the period between both releases, Iglesias directed another film, Ispansi (¡Españoles!), about a Spanish single mother who leaves for Russia with her son after the Spanish Civil War. Un franco, 14 pesetas deals with the phenomenon of migration that took place in Spain during the Franco regime. A growing unemployment rate in Spain at the time was the trigger for a significant number of Spanish factory employees to move to more prosperous countries, such as Switzerland and Germany. The film is based on the true story of Iglesias’s father. The main character, “Martín” (also played by Carlos Iglesias), lives in a tiny and dark basement apartment in Madrid with his wife, his son, and his parents. He works at the Pegaso factory of trucks and buses, but things are not going well at the company, and he is fired. That same day, “Pilar” (Nieve de Medina), his wife, makes the down payment on an apartment in order to leave the basement they share with Martín’s parents. When she tells Martín, he gets upset because he believes the price is too high and she did not ask him for consent before purchasing the apartment. Later on, “Marcos” (Javier Gutiérrez), Martín’s best friend, is able to persuade Martín to go to Switzerland, a country in which many Spaniards are working for wages seven times higher than in Spain. After a long journey by train, they arrive in Switzerland and manage to cross the border with a tourist visa. The two

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friends observe a series of significant cultural differences between their new host country and Spain, mainly in terms of freedom, facilities, manners, and the role of women in society. The guesthouse they stay at in Switzerland is in a small village, and it is run by two young women, “Hannah” (Isabel Blanco) and “Erika” (Isabelle Stoffel). Back in Madrid, Pilar realizes the real estate company has deceived them, so all the money Martín has been sending her for a year is gone. After that, she also decides to go to Switzerland with their son, “Pablo” (Tim Frederic Quast), to pay Martín a visit for his birthday. The unfortunate timing of the family visit coincides with the morning after Martín’s birthday party. The night before, Martín and Marcos had gone out with the two young ladies at the guesthouse, and, as a result, Martín ends up sleeping with Hannah, while Marcos sleeps with Erika. Accordingly, the arrival of Martín’s family at the guesthouse provokes an awkward scene. After this episode, the film depicts how the family develops in the new host country, a process in which a series of cultural misunderstandings are highlighted. Pablo’s integration process in Swiss society is much faster than that of his parents. Martín and Pilar enjoy the wealthy life they have in Switzerland, but they miss Spain. The death of Martín’s father is the trigger for the family’s return to Madrid. Before they go back to Spain, however, Martín meets Hannah to say goodbye, and she introduces him to her two children. Unlike her son, her oldest daughter, María, looks quite Spanish, and Martín realizes he is the girl’s father. Finally, the return to Spain is much harder than what the family had initially expected, mainly for Pablo, for whom getting used to this new country becomes a traumatic experience. A series of scenes highlights the misery of the outskirts of Madrid in the 1960s. Pablo’s new school is very different, with priests and corporal punishment. Martín’s reintegration into the Spanish labor market is also difficult. The family members feel confused because they don’t know where they belong, and, paradoxically, they feel nostalgic when they come back to Spain. In other words, a new process of adaptation starts when they come back to the homeland. Yet, in a final speech, Pilar encourages her husband and her son not to give up. The film ends at that point with an uncertain and open end. The film successfully manages to depict the differences between Francoist Spain and the rest of Europe in the 1960s at different levels. Compared to Switzerland, Spain is an outdated society full of taboos and misery, and with strong differences between men and women. Yet one of the main plot elements of the film, Martín’s adulterous relationship with Hannah, remains silenced in the background. —Guillermo Sanz Gallego

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UNA PISTOLA EN CADA MANO (A GUN IN EACH HAND) (2012) Director: Cesc Gay Screenplay: Tomàs Aragay and Cesc Gay Specs: 91 minutes; color Una pistola en cada mano is a 2012 film by Catalan filmmaker Cesc Gay. With an impressive cast of some of the most renowned actors in contemporary Spain, this ensemble film depicts a range of intersecting narratives exploring masculinity in its myriad forms, with a particular focus on the vulnerability and fragility of the Spanish man. Candela Peña won the Goya for Best Supporting Actress in 2013 for her role in the film. Set in contemporary Barcelona, although notably devoid for the most part of the iconic monuments for which the Catalan capital is internationally recognized, this comedic film is structured around six interlocking stories. Coincidence and chance play an important role across the diverse episodes, culminating in a final sequence that unites most of the characters seen throughout the film. Each of the vignettes within the multilayered narrative centers on one or two key male characters, most of whom are currently undergoing some sort of crisis, including psychological distress, ennui, and erectile dysfunction, among other symptoms. The focus of the film is middle-aged masculinity and the diverse ways in which hegemonic masculinities are threatened in the context of the contemporary Western world. The male characters are not named but are rather referred to by an initial only, underscoring the universality of their fates. While the title, and indeed one of the female characters in the film (played by Candela Peña), suggests that these male characters carry “una pistola en cada mano” (“a gun in each hand”), the film repeatedly questions the effectiveness of these weapons and thus the masculinity of each man. The narrative content of the film explicitly underscores the diverse threats posed to hegemonic middle-aged masculinities in Spain. Each of the encounters around which the film is structured is awkward in tone and content, with a difficult topic at the heart of each segment. The first sequence involves a chance meeting between two school friends, “J.” and “E.” (Leonardo Sbaraglia and Eduard Fernández, respectively), who have not seen each other for a long time. The pair exchanges pleasantries and expresses regret at having lost touch, but there is also a hint of resentment between the old school friends, particularly from J., who rather insensitively questions his former colleague about the death of his father as well as makes a snide comment about not being invited to his wedding. In the second vignette, a balding and rather rotund “S.” (Javier Cámara) proposes to his ex-wife, “Elena” (Clara Segura), that they resume their relationship—only to discover that she is, in fact, pregnant with another man’s child. The third segment details another chance encounter, this time between two men, “G.” and “L.” (Ricardo Darín and Luis Tosar, respectively), who happen upon each other in a park, having met while on holiday a year prior. Having followed his wife to her lover’s apartment, G. divulges the details of her infidelity to L.—who is subsequently revealed, emphasizing the film’s focus on coincidence and chance, to be the new partner of G.’s wife. In the fourth vignette, “P.,” an office worker

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(Eduardo Noriega), approaches one of his female colleagues, “Mamen” (Candela Peña), as he is leaving the office and attempts, somewhat unsuccessfully, to flirt with her. Although initially eliciting sympathy due to his apparent shyness and flirtatious ineptitude, the character is revealed to have a wife and child despite his proposition to Mamen, who is quick to chastise him for his infidelity and to teach him a lesson. The fifth and sixth segments are intercut, featuring discussions between the male and female counterparts of two couples who are friends. “María” (Leonor Watling) happens upon “A.” (Alberto San Juan), offering to drive him to a party where several of the characters are headed and with which the film concludes. Elsewhere, their respective partners, “M.” (Jordi Mollà) and “Sara” (Cayetana Guillén Cuervo), also headed to the party, meet by chance in a wine shop. Both women disclose details of difficulties with which their partners and the two friends are struggling, specifically domestic violence and erectile dysfunction. The overarching message of these cross-cut sequences appears to be that these men do not address their feelings or discuss the issues that are troubling them on a daily basis and require the intervention of women in this regard. The exposition of middle-aged masculinity as fragile and vulnerable manifests itself at a formal level in Una pistola en cada mano. The aforementioned fragmented structure of the film formally reflects the delicate and disjointed masculine identities of each of the male characters upon which the film focuses. Moreover, a constellation of cinematographic and narrative symbols coalesces to confirm the instabilities and weaknesses of the male ensemble at the heart of the film. The rain constitutes one such symbol. Indeed, the sound of heavy, thunderous showers accompanies the opening credits, preceding the initial diegetic images of the film, which are shot from the vestibule of an apartment block, with a wall of mailboxes in focus in the front left foreground of the shot, the rain-soaked street visible, yet blurred and out of focus, in the background of the frame. A figure holding an umbrella passes by on the street outside before a second figure appears in the doorway and enters the vestibule, utilizing his newspaper as a makeshift shelter from the rain. It is E. This is the first indicator of this particular male character’s inadequacy, insofar as he lacks the necessary equipment to shelter himself from the elements of nature. His inadequacy is further underscored later in the sequence when he removes his boot, which is so worn that it is no longer waterproof. The noise of the rain falling hard on the street outside dominates the soundscape of the sequence, a constant reminder of the misery and lack of satisfaction that characterize the lives of the two male characters featured in this segment of the film. J.’s tears—the result of a particularly intense session with his therapist, he explains—emphasize the link between the rain and vulnerable masculine identity, the physiological mirroring the meteorological. Other pertinent symbols in this regard include the cardboard box of belongings that collapses, spilling S.’s possessions all over the street; John Wayne, who is identified as a strong male idol by G.; and, finally, the epitomic signifier of inadequate middle-aged masculinity: erectile dysfunction, from which A. suffers. Through both its structure and this network of cyphers denoting vulnerable masculine identity, Una pistola en cada mano formally replicates its narrative focus on the instabilities and inefficiencies of middle-aged masculinity.

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See also En la ciudad (In the City); Cesc Gay (Appendix A); Candela Peña (Appendix A) Bibliography Noble, Fiona, “Una pistola en cada mano.” Spanish Cinephilia, August 5, 2013. https:// spanishcinephilia.wordpress.com/2013/08/05/una-pistola-en-cada-mano/ (August 1, 2016).

—Fiona Noble

•  V • VACAS (COWS) (1992) Director: Julio Medem Screenplay: Michel Gaztambide and Julio Medem Specs: 96 minutes; color Vacas is the first feature-length film of Basque auteur Julio Medem. The film generated near-immediate critical acclaim for Medem inside Spain, as Vacas received nods for several important awards at the esteemed Goyas. In addition to being nominated for Best Original Screenplay (Michel Gaztambide and Medem), Best Original Score (Alberto Iglesias), and Best Special Effects (Reyes Abades), it won the Goya for Best New Director (Medem). It also received wins at the CEC Awards for Best Original Screenplay (Gaztambide and Medem), the Spanish Actors Union Award for Best Lead Actor (Carmelo Gómez), and the Sant Jordi Awards for Best First Work (Medem). Vacas represents the ultimately fratricidal relationship among three generations of two interconnected families—the Irigibels and the Mendiluzes—from rural Guipúzcoa in the Basque region. The film begins in 1875, at the end of the last Carlist War, in which the Basques, largely supportive of Carlos’s claim to the throne, are defeated. It is in the trenches of this war that the family feud begins.

Txema Blasco and Emma Suárez. © Photofest

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A young “Manuel Irigibel” (Carmelo Gómez), neighbor of “Carmelo Mendiluze” (Kandido Uranga), joins the Carlist battalion, and moments later they are attacked. Manuel cowers and only makes it out alive by shielding himself with Carmelo’s dying body, which he continues to hide behind as they are both loaded into a cart full of the deceased to be hauled away. Soon after, however, Manuel drops off the back and slithers into the brush. No one sees Manuel’s escape, except a solitary cow, the first of the eponymic vacas that populate the film, anticipating the others to follow—La Txargorri, La Pupille, and La Blanca—three generations of cows that witness the rivalry of three generations of Irigibels and Mendiluzes. The film then jumps forward to 1905. Manuel is now a senile old man, whose son, “Ignacio Irigibel” (also played by Carmelo Gómez), finds himself in contentious relationship with the son of Carmelo, “Juan Mendiluze” (also played by Kandido Uranga), as Ignacio finds himself attracted to Juan’s sister, “Catalina Mendiluze” (Ana Torrent), which is a doubly forbidden relationship between the two rival families since Ignacio is already married to “Madalen” (Klara Badiola), who is the mother of his three daughters, including the young “Cristina” (Ane Sánchez). The animosity intensifies when “Ilegorri” (Karra Elejalde), the same youngster who, in 1875 (then played by Ortzi Balda), initiated the meeting between Manuel and Carmelo on the battlefront, arranges an aizkolari (woodchopping) contest between Ignacio and Juan, and Ignacio wins. Ten years later, in 1915, Manuel returns home from his successful aizkolari career in style, while the neighboring Mendiluze farm is in shambles. While Juan, incestuously jealous of Ignacio’s continued relationship with his sister Catalina, becomes increasingly unraveled and unstable, Ignacio and Catalina’s illegitimate 10-year-old son “Peru” (Miguel Ángel García) becomes close friends with his half-sister, Cristina. The two accompany their grandfather Manuel about the woods, as he inspects everything through the lens of his camera, not the least of which are his cows, which becomes a self-referential nod to the cinematic apparatus. In fact, on several occasions, the cow, most often its eye, acts as a threshold between time and space, similar to the camera’s eye. In other words, the cow’s eye is aligned with the camera’s eye in order to make the viewer consciously aware of the filmic apparatus. As such, the cow’s eye becomes the mechanism through which that which typically happens subconsciously—the changing of the perspective of the camera’s eye—becomes consciously registered by the viewer. While Manuel attempts to share this self-reflexive gaze with his grandchildren, Peru is soon snatched away when Ignacio and Catalina decide to immigrate to America. In the symbolic year of 1936, the Civil War begins in Spain. A grown “Peru” (now also played by Carmelo Gómez, who thus ends up portraying all three generations of Irigibel men) returns to Guipúzcoa to capture war images as a photojournalist. He finds the Mendiluze farm all but abandoned, as his Uncle Juan has donned his father’s Carlist beret to join the Nationalist troops that will soon invade the region. His half-sister, Cristina (now played by Emma Suárez), has also grown up. She and her mother still live on the Irigibel farm, and Cristina has become the girlfriend of “Lucas” (Karra Elejalde), son of Ilegorri (who was also played by Karra Elejalde). Neither the Irigibels nor Lucas’s family have

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joined the Nationalist front. When the troops invade, Lucas is shot and killed and Peru is taken hostage. In a somewhat surprising turn of events, seemingly counter to the fratricidal dimensions of the Spanish Civil War, Juan recognizes Peru as his nephew; further, he declares that his nephew is the grandson of two Carlist heroes, so his life is spared, as Juan appears to recognize the patriarchs of both families. On the other hand, this act also reverberates with the family history of rivalry between the Irigibels and the Mendiluzes since, just like his father Carmelo, Juan attempts to lend a hand to an Irigibel unprepared to fight. If the cyclical patterns of familiar violence hold true, emphasized by the fact that the same actor plays both Manuel and Peru Irigibel (Gómez), as well as Carmelo and Juan Mendiluze (Uranga), it appears very likely that Juan will not make it through the war but rather die in battle like his father before him. The cyclical nature of the fratricidal conflicts at both the familiar and national levels is not only represented by the chronological historical periods of 1875, 1905, 1915, and 1936 in the film. Instead, it is also organized by a series of four chapters—given the intertitles “The Cowardly Aizkolari”; “The Axes”; “The Lighted Pit”; and “War in the Forest”—which do not always match the chronological transitions. In this sense, the chapters seem more representative of myth than history. Nonetheless, in Vacas, myth and history overlap: ages and wars succeed one another, characters die but the same actors “reincarnate” themselves in other characters, and the landscape remains the same in its mixture of the ordinary and the fantastic. Meanwhile, by the very end of the film, half-siblings Cristina and Peru are reunited, and they plan to flee to France for safety. If they arrive safely, the audience is unsure about it. In that sense, the move toward history and away from the valley is undone through the move toward the black hole of the tree stump and the myth. Any other ending, however, would trivialize the vicious cyclicity of fratricidal tragedy plaguing the rival families, as well as the uncertainty and precariousness of the Civil War period in Spain. See also Caracremada (Caracremada); El laberinto del fauno (Pan’s Labyrinth); La lengua de las mariposa (Butterfly’s Tongue); Soldados de Salamina (Soldiers of Salamis); Tierra (Earth) Bibliography Pavlovic´, Tatjana. 100 Years of Spanish Cinema. Singapore: Utopia Press, 2009. Santaolalla, Isabel C. “Julio Medem’s Vacas (1991): Historicizing the Forest.” In Spanish Cinema: The Auteurist Tradition, edited by Peter William Evans and José Luis Borau, 310–24. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999. Stone, Rob. Julio Medem. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2007.

—Amanda Eaton McMenamin

398     LA VAQUILLA

LA VAQUILLA (THE HEIFER) (1985) Director: Luis García Berlanga  Screenplay: Rafael Azcona Specs: 122 minutes; color Luis García Berlanga’s La vaquilla (1985) was the first Spanish film set during the Civil War to use comedy to take a revisionist look at the nation’s traumatic recent history. The protagonists, a group of Republican soldiers, plan to steal a bull in order to disrupt a festival attended by the rival Nationalists in their region. Their mission is also an attempt to bolster the morale of their own troops, who are suffering from hunger and a sense of stasis as the war seems endless. The five soldiers are a motley crew: “Lieutenant Broseta” (José Sacristan), who was a barber in civilian life; “Sergeant Castro” (Alfredo Landa), an officer with a taste

Santiago Ramos and Rafael Hernández. In-Cine / Photofest © In-Cine

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for scatological humor; “Limeño” (Santiago Ramos), a former bullfighter; a former sacristan (Carles Velat); and “Mariano” (Guillermo Montesinos), a childlike peasant who is a native of the village where the festival is to take place. Even before the group begins to bungle the kidnapping of the bull, it is clear that they are far from a model of professionalism. Once a week, they have a truce to allow them to exchange goods with the enemy, as the Republicans have cigarette papers but no tobacco, while the Nationalists have tobacco but no papers. It is this exchange that prompts Mariano, who learns at this point that the Nationalists are to attend the festival in his village, to suggest that he change places with a Nationalist solider to allow him to return home, arguing that just as the two sides swap goods, so too should they be able to exchange soldiers. This is the first of a number of scenes in which the difference between the two sides is called into question by emphasizing their common humanity. The Republicans dress as Nationalists in order to enter the village undetected and are able to pass as members of the other side. Limeño, the former bullfighter, meets a doppelganger in a former adversary, who is to fight the bull as part of the bull running at the heart of the festival. Ultimately, the pair fights in the ring together. Not only do the bungling Republicans fail to capture the bull, but it transpires that their prize is not a bull at all but a small heifer. Despite this, Limeño’s cowardice and their general incompetence mean that they fail to capture the heifer before the bull running begins and so are forced to attend the festivities with a view to capturing the heifer later. This they attempt to do during the bullfight by prematurely detonating the fireworks, causing the crowd to believe that they are being attacked and to flee in terror. The Republicans ultimately capture the local marquis instead, but this plan too ends in disaster as they stumble into a minefield and abandon him to return to the Republican front and the censure of their commanding officers. When the heifer and the Nationalist bullfighter reappear in their zone, the heifer is killed. The concluding sequence takes on an unexpectedly somber tone in contrast to the slapstick and irreverent comedy of the rest of the film, as the camera lingers on the ravaged corpse of the heifer, which has been attacked by vultures. It is at this point that the symbolism, which is generally a realistic, if comic, portrayal of the war, comes to the fore. Berlanga here, as in previous works such as Bienvenido, Mr Marshall (1953), skewers many stereotypes of Spanish identity, from the machismo epitomized by the bullfighters to religion. The emblematic national symbol of the bull is downgraded not even to the status of a sacred cow but to that of a worthless carcass. If some critics have taken issue with the use of comedy to portray the war, the film was the most successful Spanish film at the box office in the year of its release. Berlanga manages to combine a bawdily humorous, entertaining narrative with a powerful antiwar message that culminates in a moving mediation on the impossibility of any side emerging victorious from a bloody national conflict. Bibliography Palacio, Manuel. “Spanish Cinema Audiences from the mid-1960s to the Present.” In A Companion to Spanish Cinema, edited by Jo Labanyi and Tatjana Pavlovic´, 389–485. Oxford: Blackwell, 2013.

400     23-F: LA PELÍCULA Ribeiro de Menezes, Alison. “¿Una agonía esperpéntica? Shifting Memory Horizons and Carnivalesque Representations of the Spanish Civil War and Franco Dictatorship.” Bulletin of Spanish Studies 91, no. 1 (2014): 239–53.

—Catherine Leen

23-F: LA PELÍCULA (23-F: THE MOVIE) (2011) Director: Chema de la Peña Screenplay: Joaquín Andújar Specs: 100 minutes; color 23-F: la película, a 2011 historical drama directed by Chema de la Peña, recreates the unsuccessful coup d’état on February 23, 1981, when 200 members of the Guardia Civil (a Spanish military police corps) entered the Spanish Parliament, halting the vote to elect Leopoldo Calvo Sotelo as the new prime minister. The armed group held the representatives hostage, extending the coup, but due to lack of support, peacefully surrendered the following morning. The film intertwines archival footage with fictitious sequences to depict this tense and crucial event for the nascent Spanish democracy. The film begins with “Antonio Tejero” (Paco Tous) bidding farewell to his daughter on the day of the coup. Archival footage of Franco’s state funeral, followed by images portraying the turbulent years of the Transition—protests and demonstrations in Madrid and Basque extremism—convey a sense of instability, colored by years of convulsive insurrection. After this interspliced imagery, the action moves to the Congress of Deputies, where politicians and journalists prepare for “Calvo Sotelo’s” (Juan Calot) investiture. The beginning of the film alternates between the speeches prior to the vote to ratify Calvo Sotelo as prime minister and the introduction of the main characters. In Madrid, “General Alfonso Armada” (Juan Diego) is in the Military Staff headquarters, secretly coordinating the coup. “King Juan Carlos I” (Fernando Cayo) listens to the speeches on the radio as he prepares to play tennis. In Valencia, “General Jaime Milans del Bosch” (Lluís Marco), who plans to support the insurrection, distributes the commands to his trusted men. Finally, Tejero and his men arrive at the Congress. As the representatives cast their votes, the Guardia Civil storm the parliament invoking the name of the king. The film re-creates the entrance into the Congress and portrays the iconic resistance of “General Manuel Gutiérrez Mellado” (Gonzalo Uriarte), who is physically subdued when he confronts the rebels. Since the roll call vote was being broadcast live, the news quickly reaches the king and spreads throughout the country. Milans del Bosch orders the troops to take the streets of Valencia. In the meantime, King Juan Carlos and “Sabino Fernández Campos” (Mariano Venancio), chief of the Royal House, attempt to contain the coup by instructing all the generals to withdraw to the barracks, assuring them that the king does not support the rebellion. Armada, as close advisor to the king, intended to go to the Palace of Zarzuela and convince him to support the insurrection. His initial plan is thwarted when he is forced to stay with the military staff.

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The king requests to speak with Tejero, but when Sabino orders him to leave the Congress, he states that he only obeys orders from Milans del Bosch. In an attempt to salvage the situation, Armada proposes a government of national unity to the king with himself as president. The king does not want to be involved, but Sabino grants Armada permission to go to the Congress in a personal capacity. Armada intends to address the Congress to propose his plan, but Tejero suspects that Armada is betraying them and that he will not fulfill his promises to appoint a military junta. When Armada informs Tejero that he wants to constitute a government with members of the four major political parties, including the Partido Comunista Español (Spanish Communist Party), Tejero does not consent, expressing his preference to die rather than accept such a government. As Armada negotiates, the king records a TV speech to assure the nation that he does not support the coup and that he stands by the constitution. The king finally contacts Milans, who blames Tejero and Armada for the conspiracy. The king vehemently instructs Milans to withdraw the troops from Valencia. When Milans does not comply, the king orders his arrest. Tejero has a phone conversation with “Juan García Carrés” (Juanma Lara), a right-wing extremist who seems to be coordinating the conspiracy. He lies to Tejero, stating that a military division is coming to the Congress. After receiving this information, Tejero decides to continue with the insurrection. Events quickly unfold after Milans is arrested and he revokes his orders. Juan García Carrés is taken into custody and archival footage shows the Guardia Civil members beginning their withdrawal from the Congress. Tejero tries to contact Milans but is told that he has gone home and that he should surrender. In a final desperate attempt, Tejero tries to rally support among the few men that still hold the Congress, but unable to do so, he accepts the conditions to surrender. The film received mixed reviews—some critics called it a mere recounting of events without depth. Though mostly panned, 23-F: la película nonetheless puts forth a dramatic reenactment of actual events. For his performance, Juan Diego was nominated for a Goya Award for Best Supporting Actor. Bibliography De la Fuente, Manuel. “23-F: una película con final feliz.” ABC.es. 2011. http://www.abc .es/20110223/espana/abcm-pelicula-final-feliz-201102182048.html (October 12, 2015).

—Enrique Téllez-Espiga

LA VIDA SECRETA DE LAS PALABRAS (THE SECRET LIFE OF WORDS) (2005) Director: Isabel Coixet Screenplay: Isabel Coixet Specs: 115 minutes; color La vida secreta de las palabras is the fifth feature-length film of Catalan auteur Isabel Coixet. The film was produced in part by El Deseo, production company of the famed fraternal duo Pedro and Agustín Almodóvar, who served as executive producers, while Coixet wrote the screenplay, directed the film, and acted

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as associate producer. As is typical of many of Coixet’s films, it is in the English language, starring an international cast, including the primary protagonists “Hanna” (Canadian actor Sarah Polley), “Josef” (American actor Tim Robbins), “Simon” (Spanish actor Javier Cámara), “Dimitri” (Norwegian actor Sverre Anker Ousdal), “Doctor Sulitzer” (British actor Steven Mackintosh), and “Inge” (British actor Julie Christie). As has also become typical of Coixet’s films, La vida secreta was greeted with critical acclaim, garnering a total of 25 wins and 14 nominations internationally. Highlights of these awards include wins at the preeminent Spanish Goyas for Best Director (Coixet), Best Production Supervision (Esther García), Best Original Screenplay (Coixet), and Best Film, as well as a nomination for Best Supporting Actor (Cámara), in addition to the prestigious Lina Mangiacapre Award at the Venice Film Festival, an international award for the film that best represents the role of women in contemporary society. La vida secreta earned this esteemed award in large part due to the film’s focus on the female victims and survivors of the Yugoslav wars (1991–2001). This is a subject that Coixet had previously addressed in the documentary film Viaje al corazón de la tortura (2003), filmed in Copenhagen and Sarajevo. Therein she interviewed several victims of torture during the wars, as well as Inge Genefke, Danish founder of the IRCT (International Rehabilitation Council for Torture Victims), located in Copenhagen. Inge appears again in La vida secreta, this time portrayed by the aforementioned actor Julie Christie, who becomes Hanna’s therapist following her victimization during the Yugoslav wars in Croatia. The audience identifies Hanna as a torture victim only when she finally reveals her hellish ordeal to Josef, for whom she is caring as interim nurse on the symbolically named Genefke oil rig off the coast of Ireland. Because this revelation comes late in the film, the audience is at first largely left to wonder what life circumstances have shaped Hanna’s solitary behavior. When the film opens, Hanna is working in a textile factory. Unlike the other employees, she does not need to don noise-reduction headphones, as she is partially deaf. She is called into the office of her manager (Reg Wilson), and he tells her that she needs to take some time off because she has never taken a sick day. Hanna reluctantly packs her suitcase and heads for the coast. Ironically, she overhears a phone conversation at a restaurant where she is dining. Someone needs a nurse for a burn victim. Hanna tells the man, “Victor” (Eddie Marsan), that she is a nurse. She is quickly flown to the oil rig, where she meets Josef, who has been badly burned trying to save his best friend, who committed suicide by throwing himself into an oil rig fire. Josef is temporarily blind and in great pain with a high fever, but his jovial nature and sense of humor prevail. At first, Hanna does not want to reveal anything about herself, and she allows Josef to call her “Cora,” after the short story by Julio Cortázar “La señorita Cora,” in which a nurse falls in love with her dying patient. This proves to be premonitory, and Hanna opens up to Josef more and more as their bond grows. Right before Hanna has Josef transported to a mainland hospital, leaving him in the care of doctors, she reveals the torture she endured by “soldiers who spoke like me” (her fellow countrymen) as well as UN peacekeeping forces with accents “just like” Josef (hence, Americans). At first she describes what happened to her “friend”—she was raped, forced to kill her own daughter by

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placing a gun into the little girl’s vagina and pulling the trigger, and finally sliced to pieces by knife wounds into which the soldiers rubbed salt and sewed shut. Suddenly, however, Hanna unbuttons her shirt and moves Josef’s hand over her many scars from knife wounds; he feels the raised blemishes as if he were reading her body like a (corporeal) text, and tears stream down his face. He asks her to name her friend; she replies, “Hanna.” It is at this moment that Josef learns her real name and Hanna is able to claim her name and story; they will not be forgotten. When Josef is released from the hospital, he is handed Hanna’s bag, which she has left behind for him. He traces her to the IRCT Center in Copenhagen, where he meets with Inge, hoping that she can tell him more about Hanna. However, when it comes down to it, he doesn’t desire to voyeuristically watch the tapes of their sessions; he just wants to find Hanna. He finally does, and the final scene of the film provides an image of a pensive Hanna, as she sits in the cheery kitchen of her home with Josef. Nonetheless, the same haunting voice-over that begins the film, which sounds like the voice of a little girl with an Eastern European accent, tells of Hanna’s new life with Josef. They have two children together; she seems to be recovering from her trauma. The voice-over seems to represent the voice of Hanna’s deceased daughter, whom she was forced to kill by her torturers. Equally possible, the voice also seems to represent the semiotic feminine mode of language (à la Julia Kristeva), which allows Hanna, in moments of solitude, to contemplate the unspeakable terrors that she has suffered in a pre-Oedipal materna lingua, understood only by her and other female victims who have endured similar corporeal trauma. In this way, Coixet ultimately emphasizes the transnational issue of civil war that crosses the boundaries of Europe. Coixet states of La vida secreta that the film is inscribed in a wider context that has to do with Europe with regard to the world at present, the Yugoslav wars sharing with the national context of Spain (as well as other European nations) the same horrors of civil war, refugees, political prisoners, and victims scarred for life, for those who are “lucky” enough to even make it out. See also Isabel Coixet (Appendix A); Cosas que nunca te dije (Things I Never Told You); Mi vida sin mí (My Life without Me) Bibliography Cerrato, Rafael. Isabel Coixet. Madrid: Ediciones J.C., 2008. Coixet, Isabel. La vida secreta de Isabel Coixet. Barcelona: Lunwerg, 2011. López, Helena. “A Disjunctive Order: Place, Space, and the Gendered Body in Isabel Coixet’s The Secret Life of Words (2005).” In Hispanic and Lusophone Women Filmmakers, edited by Helena Daniel López, Julián Gutiérrez-Albilla, and Parvati Nair, 157–70. New York: Manchester University Press, 2013.

—Amanda Eaton McMenamin

404     VIVIR ES FÁCIL CON LOS OJOS CERRADOS

VIVIR ES FÁCIL CON LOS OJOS CERRADOS (LIVING IS EASY WITH EYES CLOSED) (2013) Director: David Trueba Screenplay: David Trueba Specs: 108 minutes; color Vivir es fácil con los ojos cerrados is based on the real story of Juan Carrión, an English teacher who traveled to Almería to meet John Lennon while he was filming How I Won the War in 1966. The dictatorship of General Francisco Franco and its repressive climate is the backdrop of the story. This film won the Best Film, Best Director, Best Original Screenplay, Best Actor, and Best New Actress awards at the 28th Premios Goya (Goya Awards), and the Best Film, Best Original Screenplay, and Best New Actress awards at the Círculo de Escritores Cinematográficos (Cinema Writers Circle) in 2014. “Antonio San Román” (Javier Cámara) is an English teacher who uses Beatles’ songs as a pedagogical tool. When he finds out that Lennon is in Almería, he drives to meet him and ask him to print the lyrics to the band’s albums so that his students can understand the songs. On the way, he meets “Belén” (Natalia de Molina), a young pregnant woman who has escaped from the shelter where she was to give up her baby for adoption. They are later joined by “Juanjo” (Francesc Colomer), a teenager raised in a prototypical Falangist family who runs away from his authoritarian father. They stay at a tiny seaside town, where they meet “Ramón” (Ramón Fontserè), the owner of a small beach bar, and his disabled son, “Bruno” (Rogelio Fernández). Antonio finds Juanjo employment as a server at Ramón’s restaurant

Natalia de Molina, Francesc Colomer, Ramón Fontserè, and Javier Cámara. Outsider Pictures / Photofest © Outsider Pictures

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and invites Belén to stay at the hotel when he realizes that she does not have anywhere to go. Antonio unsuccessfully attempts to enter the movie set and visit Lennon’s private residence, from which he is chased out by Cynthia Lennon. While Antonio tries to fulfill his dream, Belén and Juanjo discover new worlds. Belén realizes that she is alone, but there are good people willing to help her. As far as Juanjo is concerned, he is bullied and assaulted by a local because his hair is too modern and effeminate. Later the same day, the three protagonists hide in the movie theater where the crew watches the filmed footage. Antonio finally gets permission from a crew member to interview Lennon the following day. During the long-awaited meeting, Antonio has a lengthy conversation with Lennon in his dressing room. The artist aids Antonio with the uncompleted lyrics and records a new song on Antonio’s personal recorder, whose first verses are the title of the film. After the interview, encouraged by his experience, Antonio confronts the man who assaulted Juanjo to show him that one should not live with fear. However, the local does not apologize and Antonio leaves in defeat. When they return to the beach bar, Juanjo’s father is waiting for him. Juanjo returns to Madrid, as does Belén, who yearns for a new beginning. As Antonio leaves town, he sees the tomato garden in which the bully works and he runs over the plants. The film ends with Juanjo playing the recording of Lennon’s new song. The film is a dramatic comedy, with some features of a road movie, that criticizes the lack of freedom, especially for young people, during Franco’s dictatorship. The quasi-mythical figure of Lennon embodies the music of the Beatles, considered too radical during the dictatorship, and the trip to meet him represents the search for freedom. The title, the first lines of “Strawberry Fields Forever,” suggests that Spanish society at the time needed to open its eyes and fight to end the dictatorship. Trueba tells a simple story in a country that started to dream of change. See also David Trueba (Appendix A) —Enrique Téllez-Espiga

VOLVER (VOLVER) (2006) Director: Pedro Almodóvar Screenplay: Pedro Almodóvar Specs: 121 minutes; color Volver, the 16th feature film of renowned Spanish auteur Pedro Almodóvar, received great critical acclaim in Spain and abroad. Penélope Cruz was nominated for Best Lead Actress at both the Academy Awards and the Golden Globes. The work was also nominated for Best Foreign Language Film at the Globes. At the prestigious Spanish Goyas, the film won several awards, including Best Film, Best Director (Almodóvar), Best Lead Actress (Cruz), Best Supporting Actress (Carmen Maura), and Best Original Score (Alberto Iglesias), in addition to being nominated in several additional categories: Best Production Supervision (Toni Novella), Best Production Design (Salvador Parra), Best Original Screenplay (Almodóvar), Best

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Blanca Portillo and Penélope Cruz. Sony Pictures Classics / Photofest © Sony Pictures Classics

Supporting Actress (Lola Dueñas and Blanca Portillo), Best Costume Design (Bina Daigeler), Best Cinematography (José Luis Alcaine), Best Sound (Miguel Rejas and José Antonio Bermúdez), and Best Makeup and Hairstyles (Ana Lozano and Massimo Gattabrusi). The film opens in a cemetery in Alcanfor de las Infantas, a small village in La Mancha, where sisters “Raimunda” (Penélope Cruz) and “Sole” (Lola Dueñas), accompanied by Raimunda’s daughter, “Paula” (Yohana Cobo), and neighbor “Agustina” (Blanca Portillo), clean their family plots. Apparently, Raimunda and Sole’s mother, “Irene” (Carmen Maura), died three years earlier, along with their father, in a fire, the same day that Agustina’s mother disappeared from the village. Before heading back to Madrid, where Raimunda and Sole now live, they spend time at their former family home with “Tía Paula” (Chus Lampreave), who believes that her sister Irene has returned from the dead to assist her in living. The sisters think that their poor, old aunt is simply senile and they humor her. The pair, along with daughter Paula, returns home to Madrid, where Raimunda’s good-for-nothing husband, “Paco” (Antonio de la Torre), awaits them, intoxicated and lasciviously peering up the skirt of his “daughter,” Paula. While Raimunda is out, he actually attacks Paula and tries to rape her. A stunned Paula stabs and kills him. As Raimunda arrives home to find her daughter in tears and her husband’s bloody corpse on the kitchen floor, Sole calls to let her know that Tía Paula has died. Raimunda, needing to clean up the mess, tells Sole that Paco has left them, and that she will have to go to the funeral on her own. While Sole is at the funeral, Raimunda ends up moving Paco’s body to the freezer of the res-

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taurant owned by her neighbor “Emilio” (Carlos Blanco), who entrusts her with the keys so that she can show the place to potential buyers, as he is attempting to get rid of it. However, as Raimunda is closing up and locking the freezer, a film crew stops by; they are looking for a place to host their meals while they’re shooting. Raimunda agrees to take care of them and calls on her neighborhood friends—another transplant to Madrid, “Inés” (Neus Sanz), and a Dominican immigrant, “Regina” (María Isabel Díaz)—to help her with the food preparations. She essentially begins a very successful entrepreneurial endeavor, catering to the film crew. Meanwhile, while attending Tía Paula’s funeral, Agustina reveals to Sole that several people have allegedly seen or heard her mother’s ghost. When Sole returns home to Madrid, she hears a voice coming from the trunk of her car; she opens it, and Irene is inside. Sole is not sure whether her mother is indeed a ghost, but she opens her home to her all the same. She has her mother assisting in her clandestine hair salon, pretending to be a Russian immigrant. One day, Paula visits and meets her grandmother. Irene does not yet want to reveal herself to Raimunda, however. The audience finds out why when Irene finally does reveal herself to her daughter. After a long period of obliviousness, Irene found out that Raimunda was abused—repeatedly raped—by her father, resulting in Paula, a child of incest. It now also makes sense why Paco claimed that he was not Paula’s father nor was it incestuous for him to desire her. As such, patriarchal abuses become the crux of the traumas in the film, remedied only by the female solidarity exhibited by the auteur’s characters, in classic Almodóvarian melodramatic fashion. In working toward such resolution, the women support one another in a variety of ways. Inés and Regina help Raimunda get Paco’s dead body, enclosed in the freezer, loaded into a van—no questions asked—and Regina helps her transport it to the banks of the River Júcar, where Raimunda is able to bury the body with impunity. When Agustina, riddled with cancer, takes a turn for the worse, Irene reveals herself to her, vowing to help her die in peace. Meanwhile, Irene and Raimunda reconcile, and the last scene of the film depicts the two embracing, overcoming the traumas exacted by Irene’s husband and Raimunda’s father. Such patriarchally inflicted traumas seem lucidly reminiscent of the oppressive paternalism of the Franco regime. In addition, Franco was obsessed with resurrecting the cult of Old Castile, which emphasized “Spain’s” Castilian language, Catholic religion, and Old Christian “blood” of the symbolic year of 1492. In such a sense, then, the perverted incest perpetrated by the patriarch of Raimunda’s family is representative of the impossibility of the castizo purity desired by Franco, a purity that could only be ensured, in antithetically degenerate fashion, by endogamic practice. As such, the eponymic “returns” of the film are more so those of the specters of the Franco dictatorship than those of the ghost of Irene, who turns out to be very much alive, having set fire to the cabin in which her husband and Agustina’s mother were having an affair, in retribution for all of the patriarch’s wrongdoings. In place of the perverted patriarchy, in the end, Volver is dominated by a hybrid, transnational community of women, including provincial neighbors, working-class transplants to Madrid, and mixed-race Latin American immigrants—those originally repressed and rejected as “inauthentic”

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bearers of Spanish national identity by the Franco regime—who end up supporting and upholding one another, providing a model for a contemporary, regenerated Spain. See also Los abrazos roto (Broken Embraces); Pedro Almodóvar (Appendix A); Penélope Cruz; La flor de mi secreto (The Flower of My Secret); Chus Lampreave (Appendix A); ley del deseo, La (Law of Desire); Carmen Maura (Appendix A); Mujeres al borde de un ataque de nervios (Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown); Todo sobre mi madre (All about My Mother) Bibliography D’Lugo, Marvin, and Kathleen M. Vernon, eds. A Companion to Pedro Almodóvar. Malden, MA: Wiley-Blackwell, 2013. Epps, Brad, and Despina Kakoudaki, eds. All about Almodóvar: A Passion for Cinema. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2009. Gutiérrez-Albilla, Julián Daniel. “Returning to and from the Maternal Rural Space: Traumatic Memory, Late Modernity and Nostalgic Utopia in Almodóvar’s Volver.” Bulletin of Hispanic Studies 88, no. 3 (2011): 321–38.

—Amanda Eaton McMenamin

VOLVER A EMPEZAR (BEGIN THE BEGUINE) (1981) Director: José Luis Garci Screenplay: Ángel Llorente and José Luis Garci Specs: 87 minutes; color Volver a empezar is a 1981 film directed by José Luis Garci. The film tells the story of a Spanish exile who, after succeeding professionally in the United States, comes back to Spain after Franco’s death. It was the first Spanish film to receive an Academy Award—namely, that for Best Foreign Language Film. The plot of the film revolves around “Antonio Miguel Albajara” (Antonio Ferrandis) and his return to Spain after the end of the Franco regime. Albajara is a political exile who became a professor of Spanish literature at Berkeley University. At his arrival in Gijón, Albajara decides to take a cab and visit a series of places in the city: Robledo Cinema, after which he titled one of his books; the football stadium of Sporting Gijón, his football team; and the seaside. Soon the reason for Albajara’s return becomes clear. He goes to an art gallery, in which he meets “Elena” (Encarna Paso). Elena was Albajara’s youth love, a broken relationship due to his exile. They both enjoy a nice walk and lunch talking about their memories—in particular, how he asked her to dance to “Begin the Beguine” at a ball and how he gave her that record the next day, a record in which he wrote a personal dedication signed by “Antonio Fred Astaire.” Later on, his fellow players at Sporting Gijón pay tribute to Albajara with a dinner. Afterward, he has a drink with his best friend “Roxu” (José Bódalo), a general practitioner. They speak about their respective families. Albajara tells him he is separated but not divorced yet. He also shows him a medical diagnosis, in which Roxu can read Albajara has terminal cancer.

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Albajara stays in Hotel Asturias, in which he meets “Gervasio Losada” (Agustín González), the hotel manager. Albajara checks in at the hotel with his American passport, a detail that enhances the protagonist’s dual character due to his exile. One day, the king of Spain, “Juan Carlos de Borbón” (Pedro Ruiz), phones Albajara to congratulate him on his Nobel Prize. After that, a number of important journalists and reporters from all over the world keep watch at Hotel Asturias trying to arrange an interview with the Nobel laureate. Yet, Albajara does not intend to speak to the media, and Losada helps him avoid the journalists. Then, Albajara and Elena leave Gijón for a car excursion in the countryside. During their romantic getaway, they sleep together, and he tells her that he has always thought about her, although he later married a colleague, with whom he has two kids. She tells him that she fell in love with a married man who died long ago. He seems honest with her when he tells her how much he loves her, but he avoids telling her about his cancer and about his return to the United States. Then, they go back to Gijón. Thanks to Roxu, Elena manages to find out when Albajara is leaving for the States and she meets him at the airport to say goodbye. She gives him a present that he is meant to open once he is back in San Francisco. Back in the States, Albajara is having breakfast with his American wife. When she leaves, he opens Elena’s present. It is an envelope with some pictures of their weekend in the countryside, together with the record of “Begin the Beguine” that he gave her before fleeing into exile in 1936. Under his dedication as “Antonio Fred Astaire,” she has written, “Thank you for these two days in which we caught up on a whole lifetime. Ginger Rogers, 1981.” The film ends with Albajara lecturing at Berkeley, and with a dedication by José Luis Garci, the director: “To that interrupted generation, thank you.” Volver a empezar is a tribute film for those Spanish exiles who had to leave their country at a crucial moment in their lives. The film stresses the ephemeral character of life, and how a series of events can have an important impact on one’s life. Music plays an essential role in the film, with two recurrent works that highlight the idea of the homecoming, Pachelbel’s “Canon in D Major” and Cole Porter’s “Begin the Beguine.” Albajara’s return to Spain seems to imply a certain closure to his story as an exile, yet such closure cannot be understood as definite since the exile has developed a twofold character: the Spaniard and the American. The Spaniard remains an unconfident and shy boy who plays soccer with his friends and does not dare to dance with the girl he is secretly in love with. The American has become an assertive and successful author and professor at Berkeley who receives a Nobel Prize. Accordingly, his journey back to Spain implies a challenging conciliation for Albajara. He knows he is unable to break definitely with his life in the States, and therefore he can only understand his return to the homeland as a temporary and clandestine episode in which he carefully avoids speaking to the media, meeting the king, and saying goodbye to his youth love, Elena. The film also shows a feature that characterizes Garci’s filmography—namely, the importance of cigarettes in each dialogue. Most of the main characters of the film are smokers, and the conversations in which they are smoking seem to stress their earnestness.

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See also Canción de cuna (Cradle Song); José Luis Garci (Appendix A); Ninette (Ninette); Tiovivo c.1950 (Tiovivo c.1950) — Guillermo Sanz Gallego

LA VOZ DORMIDA (THE SLEEPING VOICE) (2011) Director: Benito Zambrano Screenplay: Benito Zambrano and Ignacio del Moral, based on the novel by Dulce Chacón Specs: 128 minutes; color The Sleeping Voice is an adaptation of the acclaimed 2002 novel of the same name by Dulce Chacón. The historical novel re-creates the repression and the deplorable conditions in female prisons during the postwar period, issues that the film faithfully brings to the big screen. As the initial captions state, the film is an homage to all women who suffered repression during Franco’s dictatorship. The film received nine nominations for the 26th Premios Goya (Goya Awards) and won the awards for Best Supporting Actress for Ana Wagener and Best New Actress for María León, who also received the Silver Seashell for Best Actress in the Festival Internacional de San Sebastián (San Sebastián International Film Festival) in 2011. The film, set in Madrid during the postwar era, tells the story of “Pepita” (María León) and her sister “Hortensia” (Inma Cuesta), who is seven months pregnant and imprisoned in the penitentiary of Las Ventas awaiting trial for sup-

Inma Cuesta. Warner Bros. / Photofest © Warner Bros.

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porting the Spanish Communist Party and the Second Republic during the Spanish Civil War. The film depicts the cruel conditions in the prison under the rule of “Sister Serafines” (Susi Sánchez). Upon arriving in Madrid, Pepita works as housemaid in the house of “Don Fernando” (Jesús Noguero), who can no longer practice medicine because of his leftist ideology, and his devoted and Falangist wife, “Doña Amparo” (Myriam Gallego). When Pepita visits her sister for the first time, Hortensia asks her to take money and documents to her husband, “Felipe” (Daniel Holguín), a member of the resistance in the mountains. Pepita reluctantly accepts, but she gets further involved when “Paulino González” (Marc Clotet) informs her during the meeting that Felipe is injured and needs medical attention. Paulino instructs Pepita to take Don Fernando to a pension to perform surgery on Felipe. Pepita and Paulino initiate a romantic relationship, hindered by his status as a fugitive and the violence of the postwar period. During the military trial, Hortensia is sentenced, along with the other defendants, to the death penalty. However, her sentence is not to be carried out until after she gives birth. Pepita tries to intercede for her sister and unsuccessfully contacts the bishop and “Don Gonzalo” (Lluís Marco), Fernando’s father, a general friend of Franco. Hortensia gives birth to her daughter, Hortensia, in prison. Shortly thereafter, she asks Pepita to find her husband and tell him to escape to France with their baby. Right after a visit to prison, Pepita is taken to the police station to identify Francisco and Chaqueta Negra, a dangerous member of the resistance who is, in actuality, Paulino. In spite of being tortured, Pepita does not betray them. She is saved by Don Fernando, who begs his father to intervene. Don Gonzalo releases Pepita only to make sure that she does not report his son to the authorities for helping Felipe. A few weeks after giving birth, Hortensia is taken to be executed. While she waits, “Mercedes” (Ana Wagener), a warden in the prison, breaks protocol and allows her to breastfeed her baby for the last time. During this time, they converse and Mercedes takes care of the baby until Pepita picks her up the following morning. The postscript is narrated by an adult Hortensia, who describes the lives of Pepita and Paulino, stating how they had to wait 19 years to marry due to Paulino’s jail sentence. The Sleeping Voice is a drama that depicts the harrowing conditions in female prisons during the early years of the dictatorship. However, the characters are hardly developed and there is a sharp contrast between the honorable victims and the merciless executioners. While at some points the film succeeds in portraying the terror during the postwar era, the story of the film is commonplace and, on some occasions, filled with melodramatic conventions that hamper its critical message. See also Las 13 rosas (13 Roses) Bibliography Heredero, Carlos. “Cuestiones de representación.” Cahier du Cinema España 49 (October 2011): 46.

—Enrique Téllez-Espiga

1 •  W  • WERTHER (WERTHER) (1986) Director: Pilar Miró Screenplay: Mario Camus and Pilar Miró, based on the novel The Sorrows of Young Werther by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe Specs: 105 minutes; color Werther is an adaptation of the novel The Sorrows of Young Werther, written by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe in 1774. The movie was nominated for the Goya Awards for Best Director, Best Editing, Best Cinematography, and Best Sound, winning the latter. The plot of the film revolves around the passionate relationship between “Werther” (Eusebio Poncela), a solitary high school teacher of classic Greek language and culture, and “Carlota” (Mercedes Sampietro), a pediatrician surgeon. They meet after Carlota’s ex-husband, “Alberto” (Feodor Atkine), hires Werther to teach private lessons to his son (Ignacio del Amo), who has been having learning and communication problems since his best friend committed suicide several

Mercedes Sampietro and Eusebio Poncela. Lauren Film / Photofest © Lauren Film

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months earlier. Werther and Carlota have several meetings in which they talk about her son and have the opportunity to get to know each other, eventually falling in love. Werther and Carlota keep their relation a secret, meeting from time to time in passionate encounters, until Alberto tries to reconstruct the family and rekindle his former relationship with Carlota, reasoning that living together again will help their son. Carlota reluctantly accepts Alberto’s new arrangement and asks Werther to curtail their relationship for the time being. Werther reacts by abandoning his job and going into seclusion. After Werther becomes desperate to see Carlota, he appears at her ballet lesson to profess his love for her, yet it backfires as Carlota feels too pressured and breaks up with Werther for good. Alberto and Carlota organize a family lunch to explain to their son their decision to all live together again, yet after asking him his opinion, he shows his disagreement and leaves the room. Realizing that the new arrangement may be a mistake, Carlota tells Alberto that she actually dislikes the idea and doesn’t want to live with him. Meanwhile, Werther is at home, totally dejected. Having no desire to live any longer, Werther decides to burn his translation of the classic Greek play Prometheus Bound by Aeschylus (a play that was a referent for the 18th-century Romantic writers)—a translation that would be his magnum opus. His work destroyed, Werther then commits suicide by shooting himself. See also Pilar Miró (Appendix A) Bibliography Alonso Quintás, Enrique. “Werther.” Vértigo. Revista de cine 3 (1992): 50–53.

—Alex Pinar

1 Appendix A: Select Profiles VICTORIA ABRIL (1959– )

Victoria Abril was born on July 4, 1959, in Madrid, Spain. She is one of Spain’s most prolific actors, appearing in over 80 feature films and working in over a dozen countries, including Iceland, the United Kingdom, France, and, most often, her native Spain. Her first credited feature film was as Queen Isabella in the 1976 British and American production of Robin and Marian starring Sir Sean Connery and directed by Richard Lester. She then worked from 1976 to 1978 on the television game show Un, dos, tres . . . responda otra vez. In 1978, Abril worked with another James Bond actor, Timothy Dalton, in Miguel Picazo’s biographic drama El hombre que supo amar (The Man Who Knew Love). Abril began making several movies in France and was nominated for César Awards in the Best Supporting Actress category for Jean-Jacques Beineix’s 1983 La lune dans le caniveau (The Moon in the Gutter) and Denis Amar’s 1984 L’addition. For Tiempo de silencio (Time of Silence), Vicente Aranda’s 1986 drama, Abril received a Best Actress Goya Award nomination, her first of nine. In 1987, Abril worked for the first time with Academy Award–winning writer-director Pedro Almodóvar in an uncredited role in La ley del deseo (Law of Desire) and in Italy with writer-director-actor Giancarlo Giannini in Ternosecco (The Numbers Game). Abril received two more Goya nominations in 1990 for Si te dicen que caí (If They Tell You I Fell) with Jorge Sanz and in 1991 for what is perhaps her most famous role in Almodóvar’s ¡Átame! (Tie Me Up! Tie Me Down!), the controversial comedy/crime drama that became one of the first films to receive an NC-17 rating when released in the United States. She won the Silver Berlin Bear Award for Best Actress for Amantes (Lovers: A True Story) in 1991 where she costarred again with Sanz. Abril worked with Almodóvar twice more in the 1990s in Tacones lejanos (High Heels, 1991) and Kika (1994) and starred with Joe Pesci and Christian Slater in Barry Levinson’s American comedy Jimmy Hollywood (1994). For the neonoir Nadie hablará de nosotras cuando hayamos muerto (Nobody Will Speak of Us When We’re Dead 1995), Abril won the Goya Award for Best Actress. One of her more well-known roles in the 2000s is in Baltasar Kormákur’s debut Icelandic film 101 Reykjavík (2000). Abril continues to work steadily, most recently appearing in Agustín Díaz Yanes’s 2008 Solo quiero caminar (Walking Vengeance) with Diego Luna and the Spanish comedy television program Clem since 2010. See also Pedro Almodóvar (Appendix A); Amantes (Lovers); ¡Átame! (Tie Me Up! Tie Me Down!); Kika (Kika); La ley del deseo (Law of Desire); Nadie hablará de nosotras cuando hayamos muerto (Nobody Will Speak of Us When We’re Dead); Jorge Sanz (Appendix A); Si te dicen que caí (If They Tell You I Fell); Tacones lejanos (High Heels)

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Bibliography D’Lugo, Marvin. Pedro Almodóvar (Contemporary Film Directors). Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 2006.

—Jonathan Clark

PEDRO ALMODÓVAR (1949– )

Pedro Almodóvar is rivaled only by Luis Buñuel as one of the most internationally recognizable, influential, and critically acclaimed Spanish directors. He was born on September 25, 1949, in Calzada de Calatrava, a hamlet of the impoverished region of La Mancha, Spain. He attended Catholic boarding school as a youth before leaving for Madrid to work at a phone company, Telefonica. An avid fan of cinema, Almodóvar is a self-taught filmmaker who used the money he earned at his phone-company job to buy a Super-8 camera, with which he began making films. He was unable to afford film school, nor would he have been able to attend because they had been closed by the dictator Francisco Franco. Almodóvar was a pivotal member of La Movida Madrileña, a countercultural renaissance that flourished after Franco’s death. He is known for his sometimes-controversial films that include strong sexual and irreverent content. Almodóvar often employs the use of transsexual, gay, and strong female characters. For this he has gained a strong following in the gay community. He is also known to recast actors and rehire crew members from previous films. For example, he has recast Chus Lampreave eight times, Antonio Banderas and Carmen Maura seven times each, and Penélope Cruz five times, among many others. Almodóvar has repeatedly called on film editor José Salcedo, cinematographers José Luis Alcaine and Ángel Luis Fernández, and composers Bernardo Bonezzi and Alberto Iglesias to work on his projects. His brother, Agustín Almodóvar, and Esther García have assisted in the production of his films since 1986 when the Almodóvar brothers established the film production company El Deseo. Almodóvar’s work has been nominated for, and has won, dozens of prestigious film awards. His first feature film was Pepi, Luci, Bom (1980), which was shot on 16mm and later blown up to 35mm for public release, followed by Labyrinth of Passion (1982), Dark Habits (1983), Matador (1986), and Law of Desire (1987). Almodóvar realized his first major international commercial and critical success with the film Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown (1988). This film made $7 million on the US market and won Goya Awards for Best Film and Best Original Screenplay, Best Young Film at the European Film Awards, and was nominated for awards at the BAFTAs, Golden Globes, and the Academy Awards. His next film, Tie Me Up! Tie Me Down! (1990), was nominated for awards at the Berlin International Film Festival, as well as three Goya Awards and a César Award. It earned an X rating in the United States that was later reduced to NC17 for its explicit sexual content. This was followed by High Heels (1991), which won a César Award for Best Foreign Film and was nominated for a Golden Globe; Kika (1993); The Flower of My Secret (1995), nominated for Best Director at the Goya Awards; and Live Flesh (1997), nominated for BAFTA and British Interna-

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tional Film Awards. Next was another major success with All about My Mother (1999), which won many awards, among them the Cannes Film Festival—Prix de la mise en scène, Academy Award for Best Foreign Language Film, BAFTA Award for Best Film Not in the English Language, Goya Awards for Best Film and Best Director, a Golden Globe for Best Foreign Language Film, Best Film at the European Film Awards, and a César Award for Best Foreign Film. Talk to Her (2002) won Goya Awards for Best Director, Best Film, and Best Original Screenplay; European Film Awards for Best Film, Best Director, and Best Screenwriter; BAFTAs for Best Original Screenplay and Best Film Not in the English Language; and an Academy Award for Best Original Screenplay. Bad Education (2004), nominated for several awards, was followed by Volver (2006), another major success. Volver won Best Screenplay at Cannes, Best Director at the European Film Awards, and Goya Awards for Best Film and Best Director. Rounding out Almodóvar’s prolific career are Broken Embraces (2009), The Skin I Live In (2011), I’m So Excited (2013), and Julieta (2016). See also Los abrazos rotos (Broken Embraces); ¡Átame! (Tie Me Up! Tie Me Down!); Carne trémula (Live Flesh); La flor de mi secreto (The Flower of My Secret); Hable con ella (Talk to Her); Kika (Kika); La ley del deseo (Law of Desire); La mala educación (Bad Education); Matador (Matador); Mujeres al borde de un ataque de nervios (Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown); La piel que habito (The Skin I Live In); ¿Qué he hecho yo para merecer esto? (What Have I Done to Deserve This?); Tacones lejanos (High Heels); Todo sobre mi madre (All about My Mother); Volver (Volver) Bibliography D’Lugo, Marvin, and Kathleen M. Vernon, eds. A Companion to Pedro Almodóvar. Malden, MA: Wiley-Blackwell, 2013. Eaton, A. W., ed. Talk to Her. New York: Routledge, 2009.

—Emil Marmol

ALEJANDRO AMENÁBAR (1972– )

Born Alejandro Fernando Amenábar Cantos in Santiago, Chile, on March 31, 1972, Amenábar and his family fled for Spain only weeks before Augusto Pinochet’s coup in 1973. After making a few award-winning shorts, his first feature, Tesis (1996), was acclaimed as one of the most notable debuts in film history, winning seven Goya Awards, including Best Film. This horror film/thriller explores the connection between violence and the media in its tale of a student’s discovery of a snuff video. His next film was one of the more original psychological thriller/science fiction films of the decade—Abre los ojos (1997). It attracted the attention of Tom Cruise, who remade the film (under Cameron Crowe’s direction) as Vanilla Sky (2001). Amenábar continued his unique brand of genre filmmaking with his English-language debut, The Others (2001). The film not only became the highest-grossing Spanish film in history but also earned eight Goya Awards.

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In a break from genre filmmaking, Amenábar then helmed his most internationally renowned film, Mar adentro (2004), the true story of Ramón Sampedro, a quadriplegic who campaigned for decades for the right to end his own life. The Goya Awards heralded the film to a still-unprecedented degree, with a record total of 14 awards. Mar adentro also won the Oscar for Best Foreign Language Film. Amenábar reached notoriety as an international auteur at such an early age— he was not quite 24 when Tesis premiered—that he was heralded by some as the next Orson Welles. But his work has become more sporadic, with only one film released between 2004 and 2015. Amenábar returned to making English-language films with the historical film Ágora (2009), set in fourth-century Egypt when the Roman Empire was becoming Christianized, and yet another thriller, Regression (2015). Both were lukewarmly received, although the former still won seven Goyas. The Others and Mar adentro were perceived by many as anti-Catholic, but Amenábar expanded his criticism to encompass Christianity as a whole with Ágora. By the time of Regression, Amenábar was no longer working with his major collaborators, not even his university classmate Mateo Gil, who had cowritten all of his films besides The Others. Still, Amenábar maintains a degree of control over his films by writing and producing them, and has even composed his own scores, characteristic of few contemporary filmmakers (John Carpenter, Sally Potter, Tom Tykwer, and Robert Rodríguez aside). Although Amenábar’s output has been sporadic, he has established himself as the most renowned 21stcentury Spanish filmmaker outside of Pedro Almodóvar. See also Ágora (Agora); Abre los ojos (Open Your Eyes); Mar adentro (The Sea Inside); Los otros (The Others); Regresión (Regression) Bibliography Jordan, Barry. Alejandro Amenábar. Spanish and Latin American Filmmakers Series. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2012. Kercher, Dona. Latin Hitchcock: How Almodóvar, Amenábar, de la Iglesia, del Toro, and Campanella Became Notorious. London: Wallflower, 2015.

—Zachary Ingle

VICENTE ARANDA (1926–2015)

Vicente Aranda was a screenwriter and film director. He directed his first film, Brillante porvenir (Promising Future, 1965) in cooperation with Román Gubern, who became a prestigious cinema historian and university professor. His second film, Fata Morgana (1965), was well received by the critics due his original narrative style. Aranda turned to a more commercial style, shooting horror and erotic films such as Las crueles (The Exquisite Cadaver, also known as The Cruel Ones, 1969), La novia ensangrentada (The Blood-Spattered Bride, 1972), and Cambio de sexo (Sex Change, 1977). During the 1980s Aranda directed several literature adaptations such as La muchacha de las bragas de oro (The Girl with the Golden Panties, 1980), based on a homonymous novel by Juan Marsé; Asesinato en el Comité Central (Murder in the Central Committee, 1982), based on a novel with the same title by Manuel

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Vázquez Montalbán; and Si te dicen que caí (If They Tell You I Fell, 1989), also based on a novel by Juan Marsé. Other films that he directed at the end of the 1980s and during the 1990s had good reviews and became commercial successes; El Lute: camina o revienta (El Lute: Run for Your Life, 1987) received nine nominations for Goya Awards. His early 1990s feature, Amantes (Lovers, 1991), a box-office hit, received several international awards, including seven nominations for Premios Goya, winning for Best Film and Best Director. After directing again several literature adaptations such as El amante bilingüe (The Bilingual Lover, 1992), based one more time on a novel by Juan Marsé, he shot the successful historical drama Libertarias (Freedom Fighters, 1996), a film set in Barcelona in 1936 in the midst of the anarchist Revolution parallel to the Spanish Civil War. It was nominated for six Goya Awards and received several international prizes. Aranda’s most successful work was the period movie Juana la Loca (Mad Love, 2001), which became a box-office hit. It was nominated for 12 Goya Awards, winning for Best Lead Actress, Best Costume Design, and Best Makeup and Hairstyles. See also El amante bilingüe (The Bilingual Lover); Amantes (Lovers); Juana la Loca (Mad Love); Libertarias (Freedom Fighters); Si te dicen que caí (If They Tell You I Fell) Bibliography Marsh, Steven. “Vicente Aranda: Director Whose Work Dealt with the Postwar Miseries of His Native Spain and the Turbulence of Erotic Passion.” Independent. 2015. http:// www.independent.co.uk/news/people/news/vicente-aranda-director-whose-work-dealtwith-the-postwar-miseries-of-his-native-spain-and-the-10470041.html (October 12, 2015).

—Alex Pinar

FERNANDO LEÓN DE ARANOA (1968– )

Fernando León de Aranoa is a film director whose films explored social problems and the lives of underprivileged members of the society—often casting such individuals as leads for his films. Although he started his career writing scripts for television, he soon transitioned into film, making his directorial debut in the short movie Sirenas (1994), which was well received at several film festivals in Spain. Familia, a 1996 film that tells the story of a lonely man who hires actors to pretend they are part of his family for his 55th birthday celebration, was his first feature film that he wrote and directed. A relative success, Familia was awarded the Premio Goya for Best Novice Director. His second movie, Barrio, a 1998 film that tells the story of three lower-class neighborhood teenagers, was successfully featured and reviewed at several film festivals, such as the Festival de Cine de San Sebastián (Concha de Plata for Best Director), and Premios Goya (for Best Director and Best Original Script). Aranoa increased his reputation as a scriptwriter and director with the 2002 film Los lunes al sol, which tells the story of a group of friends who are unemployed after the closure of the shipyards

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in their city. This film won the Concha de Oro at Festival de Cine de San Sebastián, as well as five Goya Awards (for Best Film and Best Director, among others). He also explored other social phenomena, such as prostitution in the 2005 film Princesas, which was awarded three Premios Goya. Another notable film was his 2010 production Amador, which told the story of a Latin American immigrant in Spain who finds a job as a caretaker of a handicapped individual. In his 2015, he helmed the comedy Un día perfecto, in which Aranoa temporarily abandons his social criticism of Spanish contemporary society and tells the story of a group of voluntary aid workers who are in Bosnia during the 1995 war. Fernando León de Aranoa has also directed documentaries, including Caminantes (2001), telling the story of the Zapatista march to Mexico D.F. in protest against the government’s land appropriation of rural indigenous populations; and more recently Política, manual de instrucciones (2016), in which Aranoa follows the process of creation and expansion of the alternative left-wing political party “Podemos,” founded in 2014 in the aftermath of the protests in Spain against inequality and corruption. Aranoa has also written the scripts for movies of other directors, such as Fausto 5.0 by Álex Ollé, Isidro Ortiz, and Carlus Padrissa. See also Amador (Amador); Barrio (Neighborhood); Un día perfecto (A Perfect Day); Fausto 5.0 (Faust 5.0); Los lunes al sol (Mondays in the Sun) —Alex Pinar

JAVIER BARDEM (1969– )

Javier Bardem, whose full name is Javier Ángel Encinas Bardem, was born on March 1, 1969, in Las Palmas de Gran Canaria, Canary Islands, Spain. He comes from a long line of actors and filmmakers. His mother, Pilar Bardem, is an actor, and his maternal grandparents, Matilde Muñoz Sampedro and Rafael Bardem, were both actors, while his uncle Juan Antonio Bardem was a screenwriter. Javier Bardem had an early start in acting with his first film El Picaro (1974) at the age of six. In his teenage years he played rugby for the Spanish Junior National Team and then went on to study applied art in university, but returned to acting after acknowledging he was not talented enough to make a career of painting. He played the role of the sexy stud in his early films such as Las edades de Lulú (1990), Jamón, jamón (1992), and Huevos de oro (1993). Afraid of being typecast, he later refused similar roles, developing instead into an incredibly malleable and talented actor with wide range of repertoires, often making him difficult to identify from one film to the next. Although Bardem was already a highly successful and decorated actor by the end of the 1990s, it was Before Night Falls (2000) that proved to be his international breakthrough performance. He gained much critical acclaim for his role as the Cuban writer Reinaldo Arenas, being nominated for a Golden Globe and receiving the first ever Academy Award nomination for a Spanish actor. He would later continue his success with Los lunes al sol (2002) and Mar adentro (2004), winning several international acting awards for each. Bardem’s most celebrated performance would come in 2007 with his supporting role as a psychopathic hitman in No Country for Old Men. This performance

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earned him the first Academy Award ever won by a Spanish actor as well as a BAFTA Award for Best Actor in a Supporting Role, and a Golden Globe Award for Best Supporting Actor–Motion Picture, among dozens of other awards. Bardem would continue to win praise with his performances in Vicky Cristina Barcelona (2008), which gained him several nominations, including a Golden Globe for Best Actor; Biutiful (2010), which earned him a Cannes Film Festival Award for Best Actor, a Goya Award for Best Actor, and yet another Academy Award nomination for Best Actor; and Skyfall (2012), for which he earned several nominations. He is married to Spanish actor Penélope Cruz, whom he wed in 2010. They have a son, born in 2011, and a daughter, born in 2013. See also Biutiful (Biutiful); Las edades de Lulú (The Ages of Lulu); Jamón, jamón (Jamon, Jamon); Los lunes al sol (Mondays in the Sun); Mar adentro (The Sea Inside) —Emil Marmol

JUAN ANTONIO BAYONA (1975– )

Juan Antonio Bayona was born in Barcelona on May 9, 1975. Often credited as J. A. Bayona, he graduated from Escola Superior de Cinema i Audiovisuals de Catalunya (ESCAC). With Guillermo del Toro’s name attached as executive producer, Bayona’s horror film El orfanato (2007) debuted at the Cannes Film Festival, where it was well received and Bayona was nominated for the Caméra d’Or. The film not only marked Bayona’s feature debut but also that of his screenwriter, editor, and cinematographer. It subsequently succeeded at the box office, both domestically and internationally, and Bayona was awarded a Goya for Best New Director. This success perhaps inspired his decision to shift to English-language Spanish coproductions: Lo imposible (2012) and A Monster Calls (2016). Concerning a family experiencing the 2004 Indian Ocean earthquake and tsunami, Lo imposible was still awarded quite handsomely within Spain, where Bayona won both Goya and Gaudí Awards for Best Director. A Monster Calls, based on a children’s fantasy novel by Patrick Ness, secured 12 Goya nominations. Hollywood insiders seemed to be pleased with his work with larger budgets, as Bayona was selected to helm the Jurassic World sequel. His ability to work in the fantasy genre has drawn comparisons to Steven Spielberg, but his friend del Toro seems a more apt comparison. In addition to his film work, Bayona has directed music videos and commercials, as well as the first two episodes of the UK-US horror TV series Penny Dreadful (2014– ). Despite having directed only three features at the time of this writing, Bayona has already become one of the more dependable global directors, particularly in the cinema fantastique. See also Lo imposible (The Impossible); El orfanato (The Orphanage) —Zachary Ingle

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ICÍAR BOLLAÍN (1967– )

Born Icíar Bollaín Pérez-Mínguez in Madrid in 1967, Bollaín began her career as an actor, with her debut occurring in Víctor Erice’s El sur (1983). She would win plaudits for her acting during her early career from various national and international critical bodies and festivals. After appearing in more than a dozen more films, including such notable titles as Ken Loach’s Land and Freedom (1995, which inspired her book account Ken Loach: un observador solitario [1996]), Bollaín made her feature directorial debut with Hola, ¿estás sola? (1995). Although that film drew little international attention, Bollaín would break through with Flores de otro mundo (1999), winning an award at Cannes and securing two Goya nominations. She achieved even greater success with her next feature, Te doy mis ojos (2003), winning seven Goyas, including one of the rare sweeps of the major categories (Best Film, Director, Actor, Actress, and Screenplay). Although perhaps less critically successful than her two previous films, the comedy-drama Mataharis, about three female detectives, still earned five Goya nominations, including for Bollaín’s direction and writing. Bollaín’s next project was Tambíen la lluvia (2010), a “metafilm” about a Spanish crew in Bolivia making a film about Christopher Columbus who get caught up in the 2000 Cochabamba water war. With three Goyas and 10 more nominations, she followed its success with Katmandú, un espejo en el cielo (2011), based on a true story of a teacher in the titular city; the little-seen documentary La tierra extraña (2014); and the critical success El olivo (2016). Although Bollaín writes almost all of her films, she has not yet acted in her own films but continues to appear in major roles for other directors, such as the titular character in Leo (José Luis Borau, 2000). See also Flores de otro mundo (Flowers from Another World); Katmandú, un espejo en el cielo (Kathmandu Lullaby); También la lluvia (Even the Rain); Te doy mis ojos (Take My Eyes) Bibliography Bollaín, Icíar. Ken Loach: un observador solitario. Madrid: El País-Aguilar, 1996. Santaolalla, Isabel. The Cinema of Icíar Bollaín. Spanish and Latin American Filmmakers Series. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2012.

—Zachary Ingle

MARIO CAMUS (1935– )

Mario Camus is a Spanish screenwriter and film director. His best-known films are adaptations of literary works, such as Young Sánchez (1964), Con el viento solano (1967)—both adaptations of Ignacio Aldecoa’s novels—and La leyenda del alcalde de Zalamea (1972), based on a play by Pedro Calderón de la Barca written in 1636. He obtained international recognition during the 1980s, directing several films based on well-known Spanish novels. In 1982 he filmed La colmena (The Beehive), an adaptation of the homonymous novel by Camilo José Cela written in 1951. This film became a box-office hit in Spain, winning the Golden Bear award for the Best Film at the 33rd Berlin International Film Festival, among other awards.

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Two years later he directed Los santos inocentes (The Holy Innocents), an adaptation of the novel with the same title by Miguel Delibes published in 1981. The film was also a success and became, at that moment, the biggest box-office hit in the history of Spanish cinema. Its leading actors, Alfredo Lana and Antonio Rabal, both won the Best Actor Award at the 1984 Cannes Film Festival. In 1987, Camus filmed La casa de Bernarda Alba (The House of Bernarda Alba), an adaptation of Federico García Lorca’s play written in 1936. It was not as well received as his previous films, garnering mostly poor reviews. In spite of this, the film still went on to win the award for Best Art Direction at the second edition of the Goya Awards. Mario Camus explored several different themes in the movies he filmed during the 1990s, such as terrorism in Sombras en una batalla (Shadows in a Conflict, 1993)—winning the Goya Award for Best Original Script, among other awards—as well as criticisms of capitalism in Adosados (Suburbs, 1997) and El color de las nubes (The Color of the Clouds, 1998). During the first decade of the 21st century, Camus directed two films: La playa de los galgos (The Beach of the Greyhounds, 2002) and El prado de las estrellas (The Meadow of the Stars, 2007), which was nominated for two Goya Awards for Best Lead Actor and Best New Actor. Mario Camus received an Honorary Goya Award in 2010 in recognition of his career. See also La casa de Bernarda Alba (The House of Bernarda Alba); La colmena (The Beehive) —Alex Pinar

ISABEL COIXET (1960– )

Born in Barcelona in 1960, director-writer Isabel Coixet has established herself, along with Icíar Bollaín, as one of Spain’s notable women directors. Although she has directed a handful of Spanish-language films, Coixet is probably best known for her English-language films. Starting with Cosas que nunca te dije (1996), Coixet has shot many of her features in English, particularly since My Life without Me (2003), including The Secret Life of Words (2005), Elegy (2008), Another Me (2013), Learning to Drive (2014), Endless Night (2015), and The Bookshop (2017), although most were still Spanish coproductions. Despite being one of the more prolific filmmakers, Coixet has rarely drawn the attention she deserves as an important woman director. Still, she has long been able to attract notable international actors for her films, including Ben Kingsley (Elegy, Learning to Drive), Patricia Clarkson (Elegy, Learning to Drive, The Bookshop), Penélope Cruz (Elegy), Juliette Binoche (Endless Night), Sarah Polley (My Life without Me, The Secret Life of Words), Tim Robbins (The Secret Life of Words), Monica Bellucci (A los que aman [1998]), Mark Ruffalo (My Life without Me), and Dennis Hopper (Elegy). In an impressive break from typical filmmaking practice, Coixet further distinguishes herself as one of the few directors who also acts as camera operator. After winning Goya Awards for both My Life without Me (Best Adapted Screenplay) and The Secret Life of Words (Best Director and Best Original Screen-

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play), Coixet won Best Documentary for both Escuchando al juez Garzón (2011) and an anthology film she contributed to, Invisibles (2007). Coixet has also had success at the Berlin Film Festival, as The Secret Life of Words, Elegy, and Endless Night were all nominated for its top prize, the Golden Berlin Bear. See also Cosas que nunca te dije (Things I Never Told You); Mi vida sin mí (My Life without Me); Las vida secreta de las palabras (The Secret Life of Words) —Zachary Ingle

PENÉLOPE CRUZ (1974– )

Born Penélope Cruz Sánchez on April 28, 1974, in Alcobendas, Comunidad de Madrid, Cruz has traversed between the film worlds of Spain and Hollywood. Cruz achieved notoriety at a young age, starring in both Jamón, jamón and Belle Epoque in 1992 while still a teenager. After appearing in some of the most notable Spanish films the rest of the decade (Abre los ojos, 1997, and La ñina des tus ojos, 1999), the year 2001 was an international breakthrough for Cruz, starring in three major English-language productions—Blow, Vanilla Sky (reprising her role in Abre los ojos), and Captain Corelli’s Mandolin—as well as another Spanish film, Sin noticias de Dios. Although Cruz’s beauty was celebrated, her comedic timing throughout her career was rarely given enough credit until her first Oscar win for a supporting role in Woody Allen’s Vicky Cristina Barcelona (2008), bookended by Oscar nominations for Volver (2006) and Nine (2009). Although she had appeared in both Carne trémula (1997) and Todo sobre mi madre (1999) for Pedro Almodóvar, her lead portrayals in Volver and Los abrazos rotos (2009), back in her home country, established that she could play much more than the “exotic love interest” she was often forced into in her American roles, even in Vicky Cristina Barcelona. Her marriage to her costar from Jamón, jamón, Javier Bardem, in 2010 further solidified this new stage in her career. She has also shown more interest in producing the films she is starring in, as was the case with Ma ma (Julio Medem, 2015) and La reina de España (Fernando Trueba, 2016). Cruz became the most internationally known Spanish woman actor early in her career, and a few misfires aside, has achieved the type of success and recognition from her peers that will allow her to stay at the top for some time. See Also Los abrazos rotos (Broken Embraces); Abre los ojos (Open Your Eyes); Belle Epoque (Belle Epoque); Carne trémula (Live Flesh); Jamón, jamón (Jamon, Jamon); Todo sobre mi madre (All about My Mother); Volver (Volver) Bibliography Davies, Ann. Penélope Cruz. Film Stars. London: BFI, 2014.

—Zachary Ingle

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JOSÉ LUIS CUERDA (1947– )

José Luis Cuerda (born in Albacete, Spain) is film director, screenwriter, and producer. After several years working at TVE (Spanish Public Television), filming documentaries and TV movies, he directed the 1982 feature film and comedy Pares y nones (Odds and Evens). Later, in 1987, he directed his second film, El bosque animado (The Enchanted Forest), a comedy-fantasy film based on the homonymous novel by Wenceslao Fernández Flórez published in 1943. This feature won five Goya Awards, including Best Film, Best Director, and Best Actor. Two years later he filmed Amanece, que no es poco (Dawn Breaks, Which Is No Small Thing), a successful surrealist comedy. He turned to drama with La viuda del Capitán Estrada (1991), but returned to comedy with La marrana (The Sow, 1992), winner of the Goya Award for Best Actor; Tocando Fondo (1993); and with Así en el cielo como en la tierra (On Earth as It Is in Heaven, 1995), a film that was awarded the Goya for Best Supporting Actor. José Luis Cuerda abandoned the characteristic delirious humor of his comedies and began to film successful literature adaptations. In 1999 he directed the box-office hit La lengua de las mariposas (Butterfly’s Tongue), an adaptation of three short stories from the book Qué me quieres, amor? written in the Galician language by Manuel Rivas in 1995. It was nominated for 13 Goya Awards, including Best Director and Best Film, winning the award for Best Adapted Screenplay. His next film, La educación de las hadas (The Education of Fairies, 2006), an adaptation of the novel L’éducation d’une fée, written in 2000 by Didier Van Cauwelaert, was also nominated for a Goya Award for Best Adapted Screenplay. Two years later Cuerda filmed Los girasoles ciegos (The Blind Sunflowers), based on the homonymous novel by Alberto Méndez that won the Spanish National Novel Prize in 2005. It was nominated for 15 Goya Awards, winning again the Goya Award for Best Adapted Screenplay. It also won several international awards. His next film, Todo es silencio (All Is Silence, 2012), based on the novel of the same title by Manuel Rivas, was also nominated for the Goya Award for Best Adapted Screenplay. José Luis Cuerda received an official recognition of his career in 2002, the year in which he obtained the Gold Medal for Merit in Fine Arts, awarded by the Ministry of Culture of Spain. See also Así en el cielo como en la tierra (On Earth as It Is in Heaven); El bosque animado (The Enchanted Forest); Las educación de las hadas (The Education of Fairies); Los girasoles ciegos (The Blind Sunflowers); La lengua de las mariposas (Butterfly’s Tongue); La marrana (The Sow) —Miki Ishimori

VÍCTOR ERICE (1940– )

Víctor Erice has left a short but meaningful legacy in film. The paucity of his contributions only serves to punctuate the singular impact of his films. Born on June 30, 1940, in Karrantza, Spain, Erice had an insular childhood that evoked in him a desire to escape with his filmmaking. Eschewing an auteur style, Erice has taken the viewpoint of the avid spectator while creating his work. This spectator

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style is a personality trait that has served him as a professional cinephile and film critic. He is known less for contriving to build magnificence but instead for playing with ambient light and sound to capture the audience. This unforced, nimble nature helps to crystallize a sense of reality that elicits haunting and authentic disclosures from his characters. His compositional framing and juxtapositions of light and dark help to develop a tidy, and seemingly simple, still-life nature that plays on darker themes of mortality. Erice received his formal education in film from the Escuela Oficial de Cinematografia in Madrid, graduating in 1963. Erice’s films include Los Desafios (1970), El espiritu de la colmena (1973), El sur (1983), El sol del membrillo (1992) and Ten Minutes Older: The Trumpet (2002). Despite his short catalogue, Erice has been nominated for many awards. Most notably, Erice won Gold Hugos at the Chicago International Film Festival for both El sur and El espiritu de la colmena. El espiritu de la colmena, a documentary about painter Antonio López García, is considered a masterpiece that best embodies Erice’s use of light due to the congruent need for light of his subject matter. El espiritu de la colmena earned Erice not only a Golden Hugo but also a FIPRESCI and Jury Prize at the 1992 Cannes Film Festival. See also El sur (The South) —Emil Marmol

FERNANDO FERNÁN-GÓMEZ (1921–2007)

Fernando Fernán-Gómez was an actor, screenwriter, film director, theater director, and member of the Royal Spanish Academy. He played in more than 100 films since starting his career as a supporting actor as early as the 1940s. FernánGómez soon become a popular actor and began to direct movies in the 1950s. Most of his movies of the 1950s and the 1960s were commercial comedies, with the exception of El mundo sigue (Life Goes On, 1963), a drama that denounces the poverty and lack of opportunities of most of the Spaniards during the middle to late years of the Franco regime. Of a similar theme, the notable El extraño viaje (The Strange Voyage, 1964) portrays the misery of the residents of Spanish rural areas. In the 1970s Fernán-Gómez performed in commercial films as well as other distinguished productions such as El espíritu de la colmena (The Spirit of the Beehive, 1973), by Víctor Erice, and El anacoreta (The Anchorite, 1976), by Juan Estelrich, for which Fernán-Gómez was awarded the Silver Bear for Best Actor at the 1977 Berlin Film Festival. During the next few decades, Fernán-Gómez played in several critically acclaimed films such as Stico (1985) by Jaime de Armiñán (winning the Silver Bear for Best Actor at the 1985 Berlin Film Festival); Belle Epoque (1992), by Fernando Trueba (for which Fernán-Gómez won a Goya Award for Best Supporting Actor); and El abuelo (The Grandfather, 1998), by José Luis Garci (acting that was awarded with a Goya for Best Lead Actor). At the same time Fernán-Gómez was increasing his reputation as an actor, he became a prestigious film director, winning several awards. In 1986 he directed and played in the film Mambrú se fue a la guerra (Mambrú Went to War, 1986),

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winning the Goya for Best Lead Actor. That same year he directed the successful El viaje a ninguna parte (Voyage to Nowhere), a film based on a novel he wrote in 1985, for which he was awarded the Goyas for Best Film, Best Director, and Best Screenplay. After shooting other films, such as El mar y el tiempo (The Sea and the Weather, 1989), which was nominated for 10 Goya Awards, he directed Lázaro de Tormes, winning the Goya Award for Best Adapted Screenplay. Fernán-Gómez received several national and international awards in recognition of his career, such as the Premio Nacional de Cinematografía (National Cinematography Prize) in 1989, the honorific Donostia Award of the San Sebastián International Film Festival (1999), and the Honorary Golden Bear at the Berlin Film Festival (2005). See also Belle Epoque (Belle Epoque); Las bicicletas son para el verano (Bicycles Are for Summer); Esquilache (Esquilache); Lázaro de Tormes (Lazaro of Tormes) —Miki Ishimori

PATRICIA FERREIRA (1951– )

Patricia Ferreira initially developed an extensive career as a director and screenwriter in television, including tele series. In addition to making television and film, Ferreira is also a professor of acting in the Film School of the Community of Madrid (ECAM, Escuela de Cine de la Autonomía de Madrid). To date, she has directed five films: Sé quién eres (2000), El alquimista impaciente (2002), Para que no me olvides (2005), Señora de (2010), and Els nens salvatges (2012). Ferreira has won several awards and nominations. Els nens salvatges was nominated for three Goya Awards in 2013 and was the winner for Best Picture in the 2012 Málaga Film Festival as well as for Best Supporting Actress (Aina Clotet), Best Supporting Actor (Álex Monner), and Best Screenplay (Patricia Ferreira and Virginia Yagüe). Sé quién eres was nominated for Best New Director at the 2000 Goya Awards and won the Goya for Best Music (composed by José Nieto). Although Ferreira herself hasn’t openly advocated for the advancement of women in cinema, the mise-en-scène of some of her films such as Sé quién eres suggests an intentional feminist tone. Indeed, in some of her other titles, like Para que no me olvides (2005) and Señora de (2010), there appears to be a subtle subtext of progressive feminist themes. To be certain, since 2006 Ferreira has been actively involved in the Board of CIMA (the Spanish acronym for the Association of Women Directors in the Spanish Media), a clear indication that she is no traditionalist in that regard. See also El alquimista impaciente (The Impatient Alchemist); Els nens salvatges / Los niños salvajes (The Wild Ones) —Enrique Ávila López

JOSÉ LUIS GARCI (1944– )

José Luis García Muñoz, known as José Luis Garci (born in Madrid), is a screenwriter, film director, producer, movie critic, and TV presenter. He started his

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career in the early 1970s as a screenwriter, with his best-known work being the script for the Kafkaesque medium-length movie La cabina (The Telephone Box), written in 1972 in cooperation with its director, Antonio Mercero. In 1977, after shooting several short movies, he filmed the successful Asignatura pendiente (Unfinished Business), his first feature film—a love story that portrays Spanish society during the transition from the dictatorship to democracy. In his second and third films, Solos en la madrugada (Alone in the Dark, 1978) and Las verdes praderas (The Green Meadows, 1979), Garci explores social issues related to the political transition, following the same style as in his first movie, though having relatively less success at the box office. The director turned to film noir with the film El crack (1981), in which the plot revolves around a private detective who investigates the disappearance of a young woman. He filmed the sequel El crack 2 (1983), a movie that was not as well received as its predecessor. Garci obtained international recognition with Volver a empezar (Begin the Beguine, 1983), a love story about an old professor of Spanish literature at the University of California, Berkeley, who, being terminally ill, returns to Spain to see his hometown for last time before his death. There he has an affair with the woman who was his girlfriend when he was young, before leaving the country after the Civil War to go into exile. This film, besides receiving very negative reviews in Spain, was well received in the United States, winning the Academy Award for Best Foreign Language Film—the first time in history a Spanish film won an Academy Award. Garci has also filmed more sentimental movies, such as Sesión continua (Double Feature, 1984), which—despite being a relative flop among Spanish audiences—was nominated for an Academy Award for Best Foreign Language Film. Of similar note was Asignatura aprobada (Course Completed, 1987), which won a Goya Award for Best Director. During the next years he filmed several literature adaptations with varying levels of success, such as Canción de cuna (Cradle Song, 1994), based on a play by Gregorio Martínez Sierra; La herida luminosa (The Wound of Light, 1997), based on a play by Catalan writer Josep María de Sagarra; and El abuelo (The Grandfather, 1999), based on a novel by Benito Pérez Galdós. During the next few years he directed two intimate dramas, the 2000 black-and-white film You’re the One (Una historia de entonces) and Historia de un beso (Story of a Kiss, 2002). More recently, Garci directed the films Tiovivo c.1950 (2004), Ninette (2005), Luz de domingo (Sunday Light, 2007), Sangre de mayo (Blood of May, 2008), and Holmes & Watson: Madrid Days (2012). Although all of them received several candidatures or nominations for Goya Awards, none of these movies achieved the same success as other Garci productions. See also Canción de cuna (Cradle Song); Tiovivo c.1950 (Tiovivo c.1950); Volver a empezar (Begin the Beguine) —Enrique Ávila López

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CESC GAY (1967– )

Cesc Gay was born in Barcelona, Spain, in 1967. He is a screenplay writer and director perhaps best known for his coming-of-age film Krámpack (Nico and Dani), which earned the Special Award of the Youth at the 2000 Cannes Film Festival. Gay debuted as a writer and codirector (with Daniel Gimelberg) with the ensemble drama Hotel Room in 1998. His follow-up was Krámpack, which premiered at the 2000 Cannes Festival. Based on a play by Jordi Sánchez and cowritten by soon-to-be longtime collaborator Tomás Aragay, the film is both a coming-of-age and a coming-out story centered on two childhood friends (one heterosexual, one homosexual) on the cusp of manhood dealing with their sexual desires in semicomic fashion. In addition to winning a special award at Cannes, Krámpack also won the Special Jury Award at the Miami Gay and Lesbian Film Festival in 2001 and was nominated for the GLAAD Media Award for Outstanding Limited Released Film and three Goya Awards, including two for Gay as Best New Director and Best Adapted Screenplay. Gay received two more Goya nominations for his next film, En la ciudad (In the City), in 2003 for Best Director and Best Original Screenplay, once again shared with Aragay. After working with Aragay again on the comedy Una pistola en cada mano (A Gun in Each Hand) in 2012, Gay directed and cowrote with Aragay the dramatic comedy Truman in 2015. The film won numerous awards, including five 2016 Goya Awards, including Best Film, Best Director, and Best Original Screenplay. See also En la ciudad (In the City); Krámpack (Nico and Dani); Una pistola en cada mano (A Gun in Each Hand) Bibliography Boschi, Elena. “Sexuality and the Nation: Urban Popular Music and Queer Identities in Krámpack.” Quaderns 9 (2014): 87–95.

—Jonathan Clark

ÁLEX DE LA IGLESIA (1940– )

Like Víctor Erice, Julio Medem, and Pablo Berge, Alejandro de la Iglesia Mendoza was born in the Basque Country. After earning his degree in philosophy from the University of Deusto, his first film roles were as a production designer, before directing his first features, Acción mutante (1993) and El día de la bestia (1995). The former was produced through El Deseo and even won three Goyas, while El día de la bestia won six Goyas (including Best Director) and remains de la Iglesia’s best-known film. De la Iglesia expressed his frustration with much of Spanish cinema, particularly in its recycling of the same settings/themes: Francoism, the Civil War, and childhood trauma. In the main, de la Iglesia’s films have largely eschewed these tropes. He sought work outside Spain but refused offers to direct the Hollywood blockbusters Alien: Insurrection and The Mask of Zorro, instead opting for the Spanish-Mexican coproduction Perdita Durango (1997). Despite being mostly in English and starring Javier Bardem and Rosie Pérez, the film was sent straight

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to video due to a legal entanglement. Muertos de risa (1999) was a tribute to the 1970s television de la Iglesia enjoyed as a child, while La comunidad (2000) continued to showcase his talents with black comedy, receiving 15 total Goya nominations and winning three (including Carmen Maura for Best Actress). An homage to the spaghetti westerns usually shot in Spain, 800 balas (2002) followed, along with Crimen ferpecto (2004), yet another black comedy. De la Iglesia then tackled another English-language film, the Spanish-British-French coproduction of The Oxford Murders (2008) with stars Elijah Wood and John Hurt. De la Iglesia complained about the lack of control he had over this mid-budget film, and it subsequently was not warmly received by most critics, although it still won three Goyas. Balada triste de trompeta (2010) was a return to more personal filmmaking for de la Iglesia (and harkened back to Acción mutante and El día de la bestia), winning three awards at the Venice Film Festival and nominated for 15 Goyas. Despite working primarily in genre cinema and emphasizing action and spectacle, de la Iglesia established his reputation as a “popular auteur” and one of Spain’s key contemporary directors. In 2009, de la Iglesia was elected president of the Spanish Cinematographic Academy, but he resigned shortly after the Internet piracy debate. Still, in 2010 the Spanish Ministry Culture gave him a lifetime achievement award. His work in television, through his made-fortelevision La habitación del niño (2006, for the Películas para no dormir series) and the sci-fi series Plutón B. R. B. Nero (2008–2009) have brought even greater national visibility to his work. De la Iglesia has continued his diverse output with the lackluster social satire La chispa de la vida (2011); another horror film, Las brujas de Zugarramurdi (2013), winner of eight Goyas; Messi (2014), his first documentary; Mi gran noche (2015), yet another comedy about live television; and the comedy-thriller El bar (2017). De la Iglesia has cowritten almost all of his films with childhood friend Jorge Guerricaechevarría. See also Acción mutante (Mutant Action); Balada triste de trompeta (The Last Circus); Las brujas de Zugarramurdi (Witching & Bitching); La comunidad (Common Wealth); Crimen ferpecto (The Perfect Crime); El día de la bestia (The Day of the Beast) Bibliography Buse, Peter, Nuria Triana Toribio, and Andy Willis. The Cinema of Álex de la Iglesia. Spanish and Latin American Filmmakers Series. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2007. Kercher, Dona. Latin Hitchcock: How Almodóvar, Amenábar, de la Iglesia, del Toro, and Campanella Became Notorious. London: Wallflower, 2015.

—Zachary Ingle

ELOY DE LA IGLESIA (1944–2006)

Eloy de la Iglesia (born in Zarauz, Spain) was a screenwriter and one of the most well-known film directors at the end of the dictatorship and during the first years of the era of democracy that followed. He directed his first films during in the

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1960s: Fantasía 3 (1966) and Algo amargo en la boca (Something Bitter Tasting, 1966). In the 1970s, he filmed several horror movies, such as La semana del asesino (The Cannibal Man, 1972), Nadie oyó gritar (No One Heard the Scream, 1973), and Una gota de sangre para morir amando (Murder in a Blue World, 1973). During this decade he also made films that address themes of sexuality—in particular, homosexuality—such as La criatura (The Creature, 1977), Los placeres ocultos (Hidden Pleasures, 1977), and El diputado (Confessions of a Congressman, 1978), which portray society during the Spanish transition from dictatorship to democracy. Eloy de la Iglesia is best known for his Quinqui films directed in the 1980s, such as Navajeros (Knivers, 1980), Colegas (Pals, 1982), El pico (Overdose, 1983)—one of the biggest box-office hits that year—the sequel El pico 2 (Overdose 2, 1984), and La estanquera de Vallecas (The Tobacconist from Vallecas, 1987). Such films portray the marginality of the poor suburbs of the industrial cities, often devastated by high levels of unemployment, delinquency, and heroin addiction problems. Eloy de la Iglesia also became addicted to heroin, a drug dependence that hampered his creativity for several years. In 2003, he directed his next and final film, Los novios búlgaros (Bulgarian Lovers), which was awarded Best Film at the Philadelphia International Gay and Lesbian Film Festival. Suffering from cancer, he died in 2006 at the age of 62. See also La estanquera de Vallecas (The Tobacconist from Vallecas); Los novios búlgaros (Bulgarian Lovers); El pico (Overdose) —Alex Pinar

CHUS LAMPREAVE (1930–2016)

Chus Lampreave was born on December 11, 1930, in Madrid, Spain. She is perhaps best known for her extensive work with Academy Award–winning writerdirector Pedro Almodóvar in eight of his films, beginning with his third feature, Entre tinieblas (Dark Habits 1983). Lampreave’s first credited feature film was El cochecito, Marco Ferreri’s 1960 comedic drama. She began gaining more recognition in both her home country and abroad with her work in Almodóvar’s films ¿Qué he hecho yo para merever esto? (What Have I Done to Deserve This? 1984) and Matador (1986). In the same year that she played Pilar in Matador, Lampreave earned her first of six Goya nominations for Best Supporting Actress for her role in Fernando Trueba’s film El año de las luces (The Year of Awakening). She worked with Almodóvar again in his Academy Award–nominated Mujeres al borde de un ataque de nervios (Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown) in 1988. She won the Goya Award for Best Supporting Actress in 1993 for her minor but memorable role as Doña Asun, the wealthy and conservative mother of a peevish schoolteacher vying for a young woman’s affections in Fernando Trueba’s Academy Award–winning Belle Epoque. The motherly, sometimes overbearing but always loving role soon became a trademark for Lampreave in most of her remaining films in her career. She reteamed with Almodóvar four more times in 1996’s La flor de mi secreto (The Flower of My Secret), which earned her an-

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other Goya nomination; Hable con ella (Talk to Her, 2002); Volver (2006); and Los abrazos rotos (Broken Embraces, 2009). For Volver, Lampreave shared the Best Actress award at the 2006 Cannes Film Festival with her costars, including Penélope Cruz and Carmen Maura. Lampreave died on April 4, 2016, in Almería, Spain, at the age of 85. See also Los abrazos rotos (Broken Embraces); La flor de mi secreto (The Flower of My Secret); Hable con ella (Talk to Her); Matador (Matador); Mujeres al borde de un ataque de nervios (Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown); ¿Qué he hecho yo para merever esto? (What Have I Done to Deserve This?); Volver (Volver) Bibliography Edwards, Gwynne. Almodóvar: Labyrinths of Passion. London: Peter Owen, 2001. Thomas, June. “Chus Lampreave, Pedro Almodóvar’s Favorite Mother Figure, Has Died.” slate.com, April 4, 2016. http://www.slate.com/blogs/browbeat/2016/04/04/almodovar_muse_chus_lampreave_is_dead_at_85.html (January 5, 2016)

—Jonathan Clark

JOSEP JOAN BIGAS LUNA (1946–2013)

Bigas Luna was a Catalan filmmaker and artist. He directed 17 feature films between 1978 and 2010 and was working on his adaptation of Manuel de Pedrolo’s famed novel Mecanoscript del segon origin when he passed away in April of 2013. The film, Segon Origen (Second Origin), was eventually completed by Carles Porta and released in 2015. His often sexually explicit and controversial films enjoyed considerable domestic and international commercial success, though they were not always critically acclaimed. This contrast between sustained popularity at the box office and sometimes-lukewarm critical reception was arguably due to his penchant for sexual perversions and other taboo subjects. His ability to construct powerful and provocative imagery and to problematize national and gender identities is unquestionable. There is a certain duality in his work that he often described as a conflict between his “Bigas” (darkness) and “Luna” (light) sides. This duality can be found in all his films, but it also arguably structures his oeuvre. His earlier works, including Bilbao (1978), Caniche (Poodle, 1979), Lola (1986), and Angustia (Anguish, 1987), were characterized by obscure storylines, an abundance of close-up shots, oppressive interior spaces, a and literal lack of light. There is a clear shift from the early 1990s with a new predominance of longer shots and his use of vivid colors and bright light. Storylines also became more palatable for mainstream audiences during this time and thus more commercial. In this period, Bigas Luna became highly involved in the promotion of his films. His provocative adaptation of Almudena Grande’s erotic novel Las edades de Lulú (The Ages of Lulu, 1990) started a streak of box-office hits that continued with his world-famous “Iberian Portraits” trilogy. Not only did the memorable Jamón, jamón (1992) launch the career of Penélope Cruz, Javier Bardem, and Jordi Mollà simultaneously, but the trilogy—which also includes Huevos de oro (Golden Balls, 1993)

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and La teta y la luna (The Tit and the Moon, 1994)—offers a complex depiction of a Spain in transition as well, where older customs and stereotypes associated with the rural, simpler past survive alongside newly introduced European/global, capitalist values. The trilogy is perhaps his best-known work internationally and was also recognized at the Venice Film Festival with awards for both Jamón, jamón (Silver Lion) and La teta y la luna (Golden Osella for Screenplay). The critically acclaimed La camarera del Titanic (The Chambermaid of the Titanic, 1997), starring Olivier Martínez, is a very good example of the transnational ambitions of his later work, as also shown in what would become his final film, DiDi Hollywood (2010), starring Elsa Pataky and Peter Coyote. This film was part of an incomplete trilogy about women and success that had started with Yo soy la Juani (My Name Is Juani, 2006). His second posthumous work, Bigas x Bigas, is a documentary film based on over 500 reels of a personal video diary that he kept in the 2000s and includes behind-the-scenes footage of Son de mar (Sound of the Sea, 2001) and Yo soy la Juani. It premiered at the San Sebastián Film Festival in 2016 and received wide critical acclaim. See also Las edades de Lulú (The Ages of Lulu); Jamón, jamón (Jamon, Jamon); La teta y la luna (The Tit and the Moon) Bibliography Fouz-Hernández, Santiago, ed. Studies in Spanish and Latin American Cinemas 13, no. 1 (special issue on Bigas Luna, 2016). Pisano, Isabel. Bigas Luna: sombras de Bigas, luces de Luna. Madrid: Sociedad General de Autores y Editores, 2001. Sanabria, Carolina. Bigas Luna. El ojo voraz. Barcelona: Laertes, 2010.

—Santiago Fouz-Hernández

CARMEN MAURA (1945– )

Carmen Maura was born in Madrid, Spain, on September 15, 1945. She is one of the most prolific film actors in Spanish cinema, appearing in over 100 films in a career that has lasted over six decades. She is perhaps best known for her work with writer-director Pedro Almodóvar. Born to conservative parents, Maura decided to forgo a career in teaching and pursue acting. Her first credited film role is in 1971’s El hombre oculto (The Man in Hiding), directed by Alfonso Ungría and centered on a fugitive during the Spanish Civil War. She gained fame in her own country as the host of Esta noche (Tonight, 1981–1982), a comedy-talk show. After playing Pepi in Almodóvar’s debut film, Pepi, Luci, Bom y otras chicas del montón (Pepi, Luci, Bom, and Other Girls Like Mom, 1980), she gained international recognition in his other 1980s films ¿Qué he hecho yo para merever esto? (What Have I Done to Deserve This?, 1984); Matador (Matador, 1986); La ley del deseo (Law of Desire, 1987) as Tina Quintero, a landmark characterization of a transgender woman; and the Academy Award–nominated Mujeres al borde de un ataque de nervios (Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown, 1988), for which she won her first Goya Award for Best Actress. It was during production of this film that her relationship with her longtime director deteriorated and the two did not work together for nearly 20 years.

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During the 1990s, Maura earned her second Goya for Best Actress for her role of Carmela in Carlos Saura’s war comedy ¡Ay, Carmela! (Ay, Carmela!, 1990) and became a Knight of the Order of Arts and Letters in France in 1996. She earned her third Goya for Best Actress for Álex de la Iglesia’s horror/comedy La comunidad (Common Wealth, 2000). Maura then played one of five mothers dealing with her gay son’s upcoming wedding in Manuel Gómez Pereira’s comedy Reinas (Queens, 2005) and costarred with Natalie Portman in Amos Gitai’s multinational drama Free Zone. After this production, Maura reunited with Almodóvar playing the ethereal Irene, Penélope Cruz’s mother, in the critically acclaimed Volver. In addition to earning an Academy Award nomination for lead actor Cruz, the film also earned its female cast a joint Best Actress award at the 2006 Cannes Film Festival as well as a Goya for Supporting Actress for Maura. Maura continues to work steadily, mostly in her native Spain, though she has worked on productions for British and American directors like John Irvin in his The Garden of Eden (2008), an adaptation of an Ernest Hemingway novel, and Francis Ford Coppola in his 2009 production Tetro. See also ¡Ay, Carmela! (Ay, Carmela!); La comunidad (Common Wealth); La ley del deseo (Law of Desire); Matador (Matador); Mujeres al borde de un ataque de nervios (Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown); ¿Qué he hecho yo para merecer esto? (What Have I Done to Deserve This?); Volver (Volver) —Jonathan Clark

PILAR MIRÓ (1940–1997)

Pilar Miró was a pioneer in the field of television and cinema of Spain. She started in television during the 1960s, when the industry was dominated by men, and became the first woman to direct a television program for public Spanish television (RTVE). Miró also achieved a high position when she became the general manager for public television of Spain (RTVE, 1986–1989), the first woman ever to hold that position, though not without encountering misogynistic censure. Her name is inextricably associated with the “Miró law,” which essentially promoted (and spawned a boom of) films that needed public funding before they were made, and not the other way around, as it is now. Currently, Spanish movies receive subsidies only if they generate a minimum gross revenue. Apart from directing multiple television programs, she directed nine films and has received several national and international awards, including the Silver Bear at the 1992 Berlin Film Festival for her film Beltenebros (1991), and two Goyas for Best Director and Best Adapted Film for El perro del hortelano in 1996. Her last work was a live television retransmission of the wedding of the Princess Christina and Iñaki Urdangarín in 1997. Her legacy contains over 200 cinema and television productions. Screenwriter and director Diego Galán directed a documentary based on the important role that Pilar Miró played within the television and cinema in Spain entitled ¿Quién fue Pilar Miró? See also El crimen de Cuenca (The Cuenca Crime); Werther (Werther) —Enrique Ávila López

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DANIEL MONZÓN (1968– )

Daniel Monzón (born in Palma de Mallorca in 1968) is a screenwriter, film director, and movie critic. He is currently one of the most successful film directors in Spain. Monzón wrote and directed his first film, El corazón del guerrero (Heart of the Warrior), in 2000, capturing honors at the Amsterdam Fantastic Film Festival and winning the award for Best International Film at the Montreal’s Fantasia International Film Festival. It was also nominated for Best New Director and Best Production Supervision at the 15th edition of Premios Goya. Additionally, Monzón’s 2002 comedy El robo más grande jamás contado (The Biggest Robbery Never Told) was nominated for a Goya Award for Best Special Effects, while his next film, a 2006 English thriller titled The Kovak Box (La caja Kovak), won the award for Best Film at the Sweden Fantastic Film Festival. Monzón’s movie Celda 211 (Cell 211), an adaptation of a homonymous novel by Francisco Pérez Gandul filmed in 2009, become a box-office hit. This prison drama tells the story of a staff member who faces a prison mutiny during his first day on the job. It was nominated for 16 Goya Awards, winning eight of them, for Best Director, Best Adapted Screenplay, and Best Editing, among others. El niño (The Kid), directed in 2014, was also a success and tells the story of the initiation of two young boys in the drug-trafficking world. It also was nominated for 16 Goya Awards, winning four of them (Best Production Supervisor, Best Sound, Best Special Effects, and Best Original Song). See also Celda 211 (Cell 211); Lo imposible (The Imposible); El niño (The Kid) —Miki Ishimori

MARISA PAREDES (1946– )

Marisa Paredes is a Spanish actor who is known for her work in television and films, such as La Vita è Bella (Life is Beautiful, 1997), Todo sobre mi madre (All About My Mother, 1999), and La piel que habito (The Skin I Live In, 2011). Born in Madrid on April 3, 1946, as María Luisa Paredes Bartolomé, Paredes began her film-acting career in the 1960 film 091 Policía al habla (091, Police Speaking) and has been working steadily ever since, appearing in over 100 films to date. In particular, she has enjoyed a rich working relationship with Pedro Almodóvar, appearing in five of his films: Entre Tinieblas (Dark Habits, 1983), Tacones lejanos (High Heels, 1991), La flor de mi secreto (The Flower of My Secret, 1995), Todo sobre mi madre, and La piel que habito. She is married to Spanish screenwriter and director Antonio Isasi-Isasmendi and they have one child together, actor and producer María Isasi. Paredes has won over 20 awards in the course of her career for her work in various films, including Tacones lejanos, La flor de mi secreto, and Todo sobre mi madre. She has also won several lifetime achievements awards, including the 2007 Nacho Martínez Award at the Gijón International Film Festival, the 2011 CinEuphoria Career Honorary Award, and the Fotogramas de Plata Lifetime Achievement Award in 2016. She was awarded the National Film Award by the Spanish Ministry of Culture in 1996 and served as president of the Spanish Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences from 2000 to 2003.

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See also Las bicicletas son para el verano (Bicycles Are for Summer); La flor de mi secreto (The Flower of My Secret); Ópera prima (Opera Prima); La piel que habito (The Skin I Live In); Tacones lejanos (High Heels); Todo sobre mi madre (All about My Mother) —Laura Birkin

CANDELA PEÑA (1973– )

Candela Peña is a Spanish actor, director, and writer who is known for her work in films such as Todos sobre mi madre (All about My Mother, 1999), Te doy mis ojos (Take My Eyes, 2003), and Princesas (2005). Born in Gavá, Barcelona, on July 14, 1973, as María del Pilar Peña Sánchez, Peña studied acting at the Centro Andaluz de Teatro in Seville before moving to Madrid. She made her screen-acting debut in the role of Vanesa in Días contados (Numbered Days, 1994) and has continued to work steadily since then. Aside from her work as an actor, Peña also wrote and directed the short film 9 in 2009, which stars Elena Anaya and Pilar Castro, and in 2001 she published a novel called Pérez Príncipe, María Dolores. Peña has won numerous awards and been nominated for many more for her work in various films, including Torremolinos 73 (2003), Princesas, and Una pistola en cada mano (A Gun in Each Hand, 2012). She has won three Goya Awards, for Best Actress in Princesas and Best Supporting Actress in Te doy mis ojos and Una pistola en cada mano, and was also nominated for Best New Actress for Te doy mis ojos and Best Supporting Actress for Todo sobre mi madre. Other awards include three Butaca Awards for Best Catalan Film Actress for her work in Todo sobre mi madre, Torremolinos 73, and Princesas, and a 2013 Gaudí Award for Best Actress in a Supporting Role for Una pistola en cada mano. See also Boca a boca (Mouth to Mouth); La Celestina (Celestina); Días contados (Running Out of Time); Te doy mis ojos (Take My Eyes); Todo sobre mi madre (All about My Mother); Torremolinos 73 (Torremolinos 73); Una pistola en cada mano (A Gun in Each Hand) —Laura Birkin

VENTURA PONS (1945– )

Not many European film directors have built an internationally impactful career with the consistency and aesthetic edge that Ventura Pons has demonstrated since the late 1970s. His first film, the documentary Ocaña, retrat intermittent (Ocaña, an Intermittent Portrait, 1977) was chosen for the official selection at Cannes the following year and is now widely recognized by film critics and historians internationally as a key text of the Spanish Transition. It was one of the first films to feature an openly homosexual protagonist and to show full-frontal male nudity. Since then, Pons has released some 30 feature films and explored a wide range of genres, from documentary to comedy or melodrama.

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Between 1966 and 1977 he worked as a theater director. He was a leading member of the independent theater movement in Barcelona that played an important role in challenging the authoritarian cultural control exercised by the Franco dictatorship, developing innovative theatrical forms, and reviving theater in the Catalan language (which had been suppressed in the 1940s and discouraged in the 1950s). In the 1980s Pons founded his own production company, Els Films de la Rambla, which remains active today. Openly committed to promoting the national identity of Catalonia, he led a campaign to release Catalan films in their original language with Spanish subtitles in theaters across Spain. This is now standard practice (since the late 1990s). As part of his commitment to promoting the language and culture of Catalonia, his films feature mostly well-known Catalan actors (already established in theater but often new to film), are mostly set in his home city of Barcelona, and are often based on works by prominent Catalan writers and playwrights, including Quim Monzó’s El perquè de tot plegat (What’s It All About, 1995) and Mil cretins (A Thousand Fools, 2011); Sergi Belbel’s Carícies (Caresses, 1998), Morir o No (To Die or Not, 2000), and Forasters (Strangers, 2008); Josep María Benet i Jornet plays adapted with the titles Actrius (Actresses, 1997) and Amic, Amat (Beloved, Friend, 1999); and Lluïsa Cunillé’s Barcelona (un mapa) (Barcelona, a Map, 2007). His third documentary film, Ignasi M. (2013), could be regarded as an update of his groundbreaking Ocaña. The film focuses on the life of an HIVpositive man who came out of the closet later in life, having previously been married to a woman and fathered two kids, now grown men, who also appear in the film. Pons’s literary adaptations of Lluís-Anton Bualenas's Anita no perd el tren (Anita Takes a Chance, 2001), starring his regular Rosa María Sardà, and Amor idiota (Idiot Love, 2005) are among his greatest domestic box-office hits, while his adaptation of David Leavitt’s Food of Love (2002), starring Juliet Stevenson and Allan Corduner, became one of his greatest international successes, together with Carícies and Actrius. Many film festivals and societies around the world (from Colombia to France, Mexico, Sweden, the United Kingdom, and the United States) have dedicated homages and major retrospectives to Pons’s work. His internationally distributed films are regularly selected for major film festivals, including the Berlinale for five consecutive years. Due to the sociohistorical and cultural interest of his films, Pons has also been the subject of many academic articles, books, and conferences, including a four-day dedicated symposium at the University of Colorado–Denver in 2012 and a collection of essays published in 2015. He has been vice president of the Spanish Film Academy and received many awards and prestigious recognitions, including the Spanish Ministry of Culture’s Gold Medal for the Arts (2001), the Catalan Government’s National Prize for Cinema (1995), the Cross of Sant Jordi (2007), and, most recently, the esteemed Gaudí d’Honor (2015) in recognition of his entire career. Consistently committed to the celebration of diversity and the promotion of the cultural identity of his country, Ventura Pons exemplifies the power and social impact of cinema and culture more widely. See also Barcelona (un mapa) (Barcelona, a Map)

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Bibliography Campo Vidal, Anabel. Ventura Pons: La mirada libre. Madrid: SGAE, 2004. Fouz-Hernández, Santiago. “Caresses: The Male Body in the Films of Ventura Pons.” In Mysterious Skin: Male Bodies in Contemporary Cinema, edited by Santiago FouzHernández, 143–57. London: I. B. Tauris: 2009. Lema-Hincapié, Andrés, and Conxita Domènech, eds. Ventura Pons: Una mirada excepcional desde el cine catalán. Madrid: Iberoamericana/Vervuert: 2015. Smith, Paul Julian. Contemporary Spanish Culture: TV, Fashion, Art and Film. Cambridge: Polity Press, 2003.

—Santiago Fouz-Hernández

GRACIA QUEREJETA (1962– )

Gracia Querejeta is the daughter of costume designer María del Carmen Marín and Elías Querejeta, who was a key film producer in the cinema industry of Spain during Franco’s time and the Transition. She has a degree in geography and history, but she has always worked in cinema, first as an actor in 1975 for Emilio Martínez-Lázaro’s Las palabras de Max, and later on as an auxiliary camera for Carlos Saura’s Dulces horas (1981). Since then Querejeta has directed nine films to date, of which some have received important national awards such as multiple Cinema Writers Circle Awards, the Best Goya for her short film El viaje del agua in 1990, and so far twice the Best Film at the Málaga Film Festival, for Héctor in 2004 and 15 años y un día in 2013. In 2008 she received the Ciudad de Cuenca Award, which was given by the Festival Internacional de cine de mujeres and acknowledged her film career as a female cinema producer, director, and screenwriter who has been committed to the Spanish cinema industry. If there was a boom of new women directors in the 1980s and particularly during the 1990s in Spain, however, that did not necessarily translate into a boom of feminist cinema. For Querejeta, this was for two reasons: first, not every female filmmaker was willing to explore feminist topics; and second, as Querejeta pointed out in 2015 during the Seminci Cinema Festival in Valladolid, Spanish women directors have much more difficulty funding films than do their male counterparts. See also Cuando vuelvas a mi lado (By My Side Again); Felices 140 (Happy 140); Héctor (Hector); 15 años y un día (15 Years and One Day) —Enrique Ávila López

JORGE SANZ (1969– )

Jorge Sanz was born in Madrid, Spain, on August 26, 1969. He is one of the most famous actors in Spanish cinema, appearing in nearly 70 feature films. Sanz is perhaps best remembered for his boyish good looks and charm, which typically mask his characters’ hidden, sometimes disturbing nature. Sanz’s first credited film role was in Pedro Masó’s 1979 comedy La miel (Honey) where he plays the son of Jane Birkin. In 1982 he was cast as the younger version of Arnold Schwarzenegger’s character in the American production of Conan the Barbarian, directed by John Milius and cowritten by Oliver Stone. His

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role as Young Conan, though somewhat brief, is still his most internationally recognized performance due to the popularity and success of the film. Working steadily through the 1980s, Sanz received his first Goya Award nomination for Best Lead Actor in 1987’s El año de las luces (The Year of Awakening), directed by Fernando Trueba. Two years later, he starred with Victoria Abril and Antonio Banderas in Vicente Aranda’s Si te dicen que caí (If They Tell You I Fell) as a young man living in postwar times attempting to escape his life of squalor. His performance won the Goya for Best Lead Actor in 1990. Sanz reunited with Abril in the popular and critically acclaimed crime drama Amantes (Lovers: A True Story, 1991), directed by Aranda. He followed this with Trueba’s Academy Award–winning film Belle Epoque in 1992, in which he plays Fernando, a young soldier who beds the four daughters of a liberal painter shortly before the Spanish Civil War. In 1993, Sanz starred with Verónica Forqué in Manuel Gómez Pereira’s sex comedy ¿Por qué lo llaman amor cuando quieren decir sexo? (Why Do They Call It Love When They Mean Sex?). Working again with Trueba, Sanz appeared opposite his Belle Epoque costar Penélope Cruz in 1998’s La niña de tus ojos (The Girl of Your Dreams), for which he received a Goya nomination in the Best Supporting Actor category. Sanz continues to work steadily, mainly in his native Spain. He recently appeared in the comedy El Pregón (Party Town, 2016), directed by Dani de la Orden, and La reina de España (The Queen of Spain, 2016), working again with Trueba and Cruz. See also Amantes (Lovers); Belle Epoque (Belle Epoque); ¿Por qué lo llaman amor cuando quieren decir sexo? (Why Do They Call It Love When They Mean Sex?); Si te dicen que caí (If They Tell You I Fell) —Jonathan Clark

CARLOS SAURA (1932– )

Carlos Saura is a popular and prolific Spanish director, writer, and photographer. He was born in 1932 in Huesca. After moving to Madrid, he studied at the Instituto de Investigaciones y Experiencias Cinematográficas. Since his first work— Cuenca (1958)—he has directed over 40 films, demonstrating an exceptional eclecticism (his oeuvre includes dramas, comedies, and musicals) and a continuous interest for the metatheatrical and the metacinematic. His influences can be found in the Italian movement of neorealism, surrealism, and the Spanish literary style of esperpento (which offers a deformed and grotesque representation of reality). In 1967 he began a fruitful working (and personal) relationship with Geraldine Chaplin, who acted in several of his films. The political themes and allegories characterizing his works during the 1950s and 1960s were partly abandoned after the fall of the fascist regime of General Franco, when he began to also work on musicals, such as Bodas de sangre (1981), Carmen (1983), which won a BAFTA Award, and El amor brujo (1986). Saura is renowned especially for La caza (1966), Mama cumple 100 años (1979), Tango (1988), which was nominated for an Academy Award), and ¡Ay, Carmela! (1990), but among the most successful films he directed are also ¡Dispara! (1993), Goya en Burdeos (1999), Salomé

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(2002), and I, Don Giovanni (2009). During his career, several of his works won prestigious prizes at the Berlin, Istanbul, Montreal, Moscow, and Cannes Film festivals. See also ¡Ay, Carmela! (Ay, Carmela!); Bodas de sangre (Blood Wedding); Cría cuervos (Raise Ravens); Elisa, vida mía (Elisa, My Life); Goya en Burdeos (Goya in Bordeaux); El 7º día (The 7th Day) —Antonio Sanna

GUILLERMO DEL TORO (1964– )

Guillermo del Toro is a Mexican director, producer, and novelist, world renowned for many successful films, such as Blade II (2002), Hellboy (2004), Hellboy: The Golden Army (2008), and Pacific Rim (2013). The majority of his works focus on horror, fairy tales, and the cruelties of war (whether fictional or historical), as well as reveal his visionary strength and attention to the characters’ psychological health. He has worked on several projects for TV as well, such as the series The Strain (2014), and produced such films as The Orphanage (2007), Biutiful (2010), and the last two Kung Fu Panda films (2011 and 2015). His most recent directorial work, Crimson Peak (2015), is his ninth film. Two of his films are set in Spain during the Civil War. El espinazo del diablo (The Devil’s Backbone, 2001) is a modern-day ghost story set in an orphanage and depicting a tale of retribution. El laberinto del fauno (Pan’s Labyrinth, 2006) is a fantasy film presenting a fantastic otherworld populated by monstrous creatures. Both films depict the threat of war as hanging continually over the characters’ lives, focusing on the actions of the heroic rebels against the forces of the dictatorial general Francisco Franco. Often channeling the theme of the Spanish Civil War, del Toro’s films frequently showcase how individuals succumb to the necessities and harsh cruelties associated with conflict and struggle. See also El espinazo del diablo (The Devil’s Backbone); El laberinto del fauno (Pan’s Labyrinth) —Antonio Sanna

LUIS TOSAR (1971– )

Luis López Tosar was born in Cospeito, Lugo, in 1971. He has starred in more than 50 films and worked with some of the most acclaimed Spanish directors. He has been considered one of the most talented actors in the Spanish-speaking film industry during the past 15 years. Tosar’s acting career started in theater in 1994 as the youngest member ever of the Centro Dramático Galego. His first big break came with the popular show for Galician television Mareas vivas (1998–2000). After his rapid success in regional television, he had a supporting role in Icíar Bollaín’s Flores de otro mundo (Flowers from Another World, 2002), which earned him a Goya nomination for Best New Actor. He also participated in Fernando León Aranoa’s highly praised Los lunes al sol (Mondays in the Sun, 2002), for which he received a

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Goya for Best Supporting Actor. Tosar worked once again with Icíar Bollaín in the poignant drama Te doy mis ojos (Take My Eyes, 2003). His powerful performance as an abusive husband received critical acclaim winning a Goya for Best Lead Actor. That same year he starred in the drama La flaqueza del bolchevique (The Weakness of the Bolshevik, 2003), directed by Manuel Martín Cuenca and based on the novel by Lorenzo Silva. Tosar has also played smaller roles in four English-speaking films, working with celebrated directors such as Michael Mann in Miami Vice (2006), Clive Gordon in Cargo (2006), Jim Jarmusch in Limits of Control (2009), and Bernard Rose in Mr. Nice (2010). His tour-de-force performance as the ruthless criminal “Malamadre” in the prison thriller Celda 211 (Cell 211, 2009) cemented Tosar’s reputation as one of the most versatile actors in Spain. The film, directed by Daniel Monzón, was a major success, winning eight Goya Awards and earning Tosar his second Goya Award for Best Lead Actor. In 2010 Tosar appeared in the drama También la lluvia (Even the Rain) based on an original screenplay by Paul Laverty. The film marked his third collaboration with Icíar Bollaín and received excellent reviews, winning three Goyas and the Ariel Award for Best Ibero-American Film. He worked with Jaume Belagueró in the gripping thriller Mientras duermes (Sleep Tight, 2012) as the iniquitous building superintendent who occupies most of his time terrorizing the innocent tenants. Tosar also starred in the action thriller El desconocido (Retribution, 2015), Dani de la Torre’s directorial debut. That same year he worked with acclaimed Basque director Julio Medem in the drama Ma Ma (2015), starring alongside Penélope Cruz. In 2016 he had one of the leading roles in the Spanish-Argentinean thriller Cien años de perdón (To Steal from a Thief), directed by Daniel Calparsolo. His latest movie was Salvador Calvo’s big-budget historical drama 1898: Los últimos de Filipinas (1898: Our Last Men in the Philippines, 2016). Tosar has also returned to his beginnings in Galician theater, playing in two different productions by the Centro Dramático Galego. He performed the title role in William Shakespeare’s Hamlet (2006) and in Berthold Brecht’s celebrated musical Threepenny Opera (2011), where he starred as the infamous mobster Mack the Knife. In 2007 he founded ZircoZine, his own music, TV, and film production company headquartered in Santiago de Compostela. To date, the company has produced several movies with Tosar in the lead role: Operación E (Operation E, 2012), A cambio de nada (Nothing in Return, 2015), and Toro (2015). Luis Tosar is also the lead singer and acoustic guitar player of the rock band Di Elas, formed in 2011. See also Celda 211 (Cell 211); Flores de otro mundo (Flowers from Another World); Los lunes al sol (Mondays in the Sun); También la lluvia (Even the Rain); Te doy mis ojos (Take My Eyes) —Agustín Otero

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DAVID TRUEBA (1969– )

David Trueba is a screenwriter, film director, actor, and novelist. He has written several scripts, including Amo tu cama rica (1992) and Los peores años de nuestra vida (1994), both directed by Emilio Martínez-Lázaro; La niña de tus ojos (1998), directed by Fernando Trueba; Perdita Durango (1997), directed by Álex de la Iglesia; Vengo (2000), directed by Tony Gatlif; and the documentary Balseros (2002) by Carles Bosch. He debuted as a filmmaker with the movie La buena vida (1996), which was awarded the Premio Goya for Best Supporting Actor. In 2000 he filmed the comedy Obra maestra, nominated for three Premios Goya, and in 2003 he directed the film Soldados de Salamina, an adaptation of the novel with the same title written in 2001 by Javier Cercas, which was nominated for eight Premios Goya and won the Goya for Best Photography. For his direction, Trueba was awarded the Best Director prize at the Festival de Málaga de Cine Español for the movie Bienvenido a casa (2006). After working on the direction of a TV serial, he filmed the movie Madrid 1987 (2011), which was awarded the Goya for Best Actor. In 2013 he wrote and filmed the comedy Vivir es fácil con los ojos cerrados, which received six Goya Awards—namely, the Best Director and Best Original Screenplay awards, among others. David Trueba has also worked as a documentary filmmaker. In 2006, Trueba and Luis Alegre codirected La silla de Fernando, which tells the story of Spanish writer, film director, and actor Fernando Fernán-Gómez. More recently, in 2016 he filmed Salir de casa, in which Trueba accompanies Spanish independent pop singer Francisco Nixon to several bars. David Trueba has also written several novels: Abierto toda la noche (1995), Cuatro amigos (1999), and Saber perder (2008), which received the Premio Nacional de la Crítica a la Mejor Novela (National Prize for the Best Novel). His most recent novel, Blitz, was released in 2015. See also Fernando Fernán-Gómez (Appendix A); Soldados de Salamina (Soldiers of Salamis); Vivir es fácil con los ojos cerrados (Living Is Easy with Eyes Closed) —Miki Ishimori

FERNANDO TRUEBA (1955– )

Born in Madrid, Fernando Trueba is a screenwriter, film director, and producer. He debuted as a filmmaker with the comedy Ópera prima (1980), set in Madrid in the years of the “Movida Madrileña,” a countercultural movement that took place mainly in Madrid during the Spanish transition to democracy after the end of the Franco dictatorship. In 1983 he directed Sal gorda (known in English as a Bad Taste and Get Out, Fat Girl), a romantic comedy that was less successful than Ópera prima. In 1985 Trueba filmed a new comedy, Sé infiel y no mires con quién, an adaptation of the play Not Now, Darling (1967) by John Chapman and Ray Cooney. In the following year he directed El año de las luces (Year of Enlightenment), which was awarded a Silver Bear at the 37th Berlin International Film Festival and nominated for three Goya Awards, winning for Best Supporting Actress. With the erotic thriller El sueño del mono loco (Twisted Obsession, 1990), an adaptation of the novel The Dream of the Mad Monkey by French

442     APPENDIX A

writer Christopher Frank, Trueba launched his successful career as a filmmaker. Nominated for several Goya Awards, El sueño del mono loco won Best Director and Best Film, among others. The success of Trueba’s next film, Belle Epoque (1992), helped him achieve international acclaim as a director. The film won nine Goya Awards, including the honor for Best Director, Best Film, and Best Script. In addition, Belle Epoque won the 1993 US Academy Award for Best Foreign Language Film and was nominated for the Golden Bear at the 43rd Berlin International Film Festival. Trying his hand at comedy, however, Trueba wasn’t so lucky, as his film Two Much (1995) was panned by critics in the United States and Spain. On the rebound, Trueba’s next film, La niña de tus ojos (The Girl of Your Dreams, 1998), received critical acclaim, earning 18 nominations for Goya Awards and ultimately winning seven of them. Trueba has also made a number of film adaptations from Spanish literature. In 2002 he directed El embrujo de Shanghai (The Shanghai Spell), an adaptation of the novel by the same title written by the well-known novelist Juan Marsé. The film received three Goya Awards, including the honors for Best Art Direction, Best Costume Design, and Best Makeup and Hairstyles. El baile de la Victoria (The Dancer and the Thief, 2009), a Chilean-Spanish production, and El artista y la modelo (The Dancer and the Thief, 2012), a black-and-white movie filmed in French, were also nominated for several Goya Awards. Fernando Trueba has also filmed documentaries, notably Calle 54 (2000) and El milagro de Candeal (2004). In 2010, teaming up with Javier Mariscal and Tono Errando, Trueba codirected the animation film Chico y Rita (2010), which won the Goya Award for the Best Animated Film and was nominated for the Oscar for Best Animated Feature at the 84th Academy Awards. See also El baile de la Victoria (The Dancer and the Thief); Belle Epoque (Belle Epoque); Ópera prima (Opera Prima) —Alex Pinar

Appendix B: Goya Awards (Premios Goya) Winners are indicated in bold.

1987

BEST FILM (MEJOR PELÍCULA) El viaje a ninguna parte 27 horas La mitad del cielo BEST DIRECTOR (MEJOR DIRECTOR) Fernando Fernán-Gómez, El viaje a ninguna parte Emilio Martínez Lázaro, Lulú de noche Pilar Miró, Werther BEST LEAD ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR PRINCIPAL) Fernando Fernán-Gómez, Mambrú se fue a la guerra Jorge Sanz, El año de las luces Juan Diego, Dragon rapide BEST LEAD ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ PRINCIPAL) Amparo Rivelles, Hay que deshacer la casa Ángela Molina, La mitad del cielo Victoria Abril, Tiempo de silencio BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR DE REPARTO) Miguel Rellán, Tata mía Agustín González, Mambrú se fue a la guerra Antonio Banderas, Matador BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR (MEJOR ACTRIZ DE REPARTO) Verónica Forqué, El año de las luces Chus Lampreave, El año de las luces María Luisa Ponte, El hermano bastardo de Dios BEST SCREENPLAY (MEJOR GUIÓN) Fernando Fernán-Gómez, El viaje a ninguna parte Pedro Beltrán, Mambrú se fue a la guerra José Luis Borau, Tata mía

443

444     APPENDIX B

BEST CINEMATOGRAPHY (MEJOR FOTOGRAFIA) El amor brujo La mitad del cielo Werther BEST COSTUME DESIGN (MEJOR DISEÑO DE VESTUARIO) El amor brujo Dragon rapide La mitad del cielo BEST SOUND (MEJOR SONIDO) Werther El hermano bastardo de Dios Luna de agosto BEST EDITING (MEJOR MONTAJE) Banter El amor brujo El viaje a ninguna parte Werther BEST ORIGINAL SCORE (MEJOR MÚSICA ORIGINAL) La mitad del cielo El disputado voto del señor Cayo Dragon rapide BEST PRODUCTION DESIGN (MEJOR DIRECCIÓN ARTÍSTICA) Dragon rapide Bandera negra Romanza final (Gayarre) BEST MAKEUP AND HAIRSTYLES (MEJOR MAQUILLAJE Y/O PELUQUERÍA) Dragon rapide El viaje a ninguna parte BEST SPANISH-LANGUAGE FOREIGN FILM (MEJOR PELÍCULA EXTRANJERA DE HABLA HISPANA) La película del rey (Argentina) Pequeña revancha (Venezuela) Tiempo de morir (Colombia) HONORARY GOYA José F. Aguayo (Cinematographer)

GOYA AWARDS (PREMIOS GOYA)     445

1988

BEST FILM (MEJOR PELÍCULA) El bosque animado Divinas palabras El Lute: Camina o revienta BEST DIRECTOR (MEJOR DIRECTOR) José Luis Garci, Asignatura aprobada Josep Joan Bigas Luna, Angustia Vicente Aranda, El Lute: Camina o revienta BEST LEAD ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR PRINCIPAL) Alfredo Landa, El bosque animado José Manuel Cervino, La guerra de los locos Imanol Arias, El Lute: Camina o revienta BEST LEAD ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ PRINCIPAL) Verónica Forqué, La vida alegre Irene Gutiérrez Caba, La casa de Bernarda Alba Victoria Abril, El Lute: Camina o revienta BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTOR DE REPARTO) Juan Echanove, Divinas palabras Agustín González, Moros y cristianos Pedro Ruiz, Moros y cristianos BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR (MEJOR ACTRIZ DE REPARTO) Verónica Forqué, Moros y cristianos Marisa Paredes, Cara de acelga Terele Pávez, Laura, del cielo llega la noche BEST SCREENPLAY (MEJOR GUIÓN) Rafael Azcona, El bosque animado Manolo Matji, La guerra de los locos Rafael Azcona and Luis García Berlanga, Moros y cristianos BEST CINEMATOGRAPHY (MEJOR FOTOGRAFIA) Divinas palabras El bosque animado La Rusa BEST COSTUME DESIGN (MEJOR DISEÑO DE VESTUARIO) El bosque animado A los cuatro vientos La casa de Bernarda Alba

446     APPENDIX B

BEST SOUND (MEJOR SONIDO) Divinas palabras El bosque animado El pecador impecable BEST EDITING (MEJOR MONTAJE) Divinas palabras La estanquera de Vallecas Mi general BEST SPECIAL EFFECTS (MEJORES EFECTOS ESPECIALES) Angustia A los cuatro vientos Descanse en piezas BEST ORIGINAL SCORE (MEJOR MÚSICA ORIGINAL) El bosque animado Divinas palabras Los invitados BEST PRODUCTION SUPERVISION (MEJOR DIRECCIÓN DE PRODUCCIÓN) Cara de acelga Asignatura aprobada Policía BEST PRODUCTION DESIGN (MEJOR DIRECCIÓN ARTÍSTICA) La casa de Bernarda Alba El bosque animado La monja alférez BEST SPANISH-LANGUAGE FOREIGN FILM (MEJOR PELÍCULA EXTRANJERA DE HABLA HISPANA) Lo que importa es vivir (Mexico) Un hombre de éxito (Cuba) Hombre mirando al sudeste (Argentina) HONORARY GOYA Rafaela Aparicio (Actress)

1989

BEST FILM (MEJOR PELÍCULA) Mujeres al borde de un ataque de nervios Diario de invierno

GOYA AWARDS (PREMIOS GOYA)     447

Espérame en el cielo Remando al viento El túnel BEST DIRECTOR (MEJOR DIRECTOR) Gonzalo Suárez, Remando al viento Ricardo Franco, Berlín Blues Francisco Regueiro, Diario de invierno Antonio Mercero, Espérame en el cielo Pedro Almodóvar, Mujeres al borde de un ataque de nervios BEST LEAD ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR PRINCIPAL) Fernando Rey, Diario de invierno José Soriano, Espérame en el cielo Antonio Ferrandis, Jarrapellejos Imanol Arias, El Lute II: Mañana seré libre Alfredo Landa, Sinatra BEST LEAD ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ PRINCIPAL) Carmen Maura, Mujeres al borde de un ataque de nervios Victoria Abril, Bâton Rouge María Fernanda D’Ocón, Caminos de tiza Ángela Molina, Luces y sombras Ana Belén, Miss Caribe BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR DE REPARTO) José Sazatornil, Espérame en el cielo Ángel de Andrés López, Bâton Rouge Jorge Sanz, El Lute II: Mañana seré libre Guillermo Montesinos, Mujeres al borde de un ataque de nervios José Luis Gómez, Remando al viento BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ DE REPARTO) María Barranco, Mujeres al borde de un ataque de nervios Laura Cepeda, Bâton Rouge Terele Pávez, Diario de invierno Chus Lampreave, Espérame en el cielo Julieta Serrano, Mujeres al borde de un ataque de nervios BEST SCREENPLAY, ORIGINAL (MEJOR GUIÓN ORIGINAL) Pedro Almodóvar Mujeres al borde de un ataque de nervios Agustín Díaz Yánez and Rafael Moleón, Bâton Rouge Antonio Mercero, Horacio Vacárcel, and Román Gubern, Espérame en el cielo

448     APPENDIX B

BEST SCREENPLAY, ADAPTED (MEJOR GUIÓN ADAPTADO) Antonio Giménez Rico and Manuel Gutiérrez Aragón, Jarrapellejos Gabriel Castro, Antonio Isasi-Isasmendi, and Jorge R. del Alamo, El aire de un crimen Joaquim Jordà, Vicente Aranda, and Eleuterio Sánchez, El Lute II: Mañana seré libre Félix Rotaeta, El placer de matar Carlos A. Cornejo, José A. Mahieu, and Antonio Drove, El túnel BEST CINEMATOGRAPHY (MEJOR FOTOGRAFIA) Remando al viento Berlín Blues El Dorado Malaventura Mujeres al borde de un ataque de nervios BEST COSTUME DESIGN (MEJOR DISEÑO DE VESTUARIO) Remando al viento Berlín Blues El Dorado Jarrapellejos Mujeres al borde de un ataque de nervios BEST SOUND (MEJOR SONIDO) Berlín Blues El Dorado Mujeres al borde de un ataque de nervios Pasodoble Remando al viento BEST EDITING (MEJOR MONTAJE) Mujeres al borde de un ataque de nervios Berlín Blues Bâton Rouge El Dorado Remando al viento BEST SPECIAL EFFECTS (MEJORES EFECTOS ESPECIALES) Slugs, muerte viscosa El Dorado El Lute II: Mañana seré libre Mujeres al borde de un ataque de nervios Remando al viento

GOYA AWARDS (PREMIOS GOYA)     449

BEST ORIGINAL SCORE (MEJOR MÚSICA ORIGINAL) Pasodoble El Dorado Mujeres al borde de un ataque de nervios Remando al viento BEST PRODUCTION SUPERVISION (MEJOR DIRECCIÓN DE PRODUCCIÓN) Remando al viento Berlín Blues El Dorado Mujeres al borde de un ataque de nervios Pasodoble BEST PRODUCTION DESIGN (MEJOR DIRECCIÓN ARTÍSTICA) Remando al viento Berlín Blues Jarrapellejos Mujeres al borde de un ataque de nervios BEST MAKEUP AND HAIRSTYLES (MEJOR MAQUILLAJE Y/O PELUQUERÍA) Remando al viento El Dorado Espérame en el cielo El Lute II: Mañana seré libre Mujeres al borde de un ataque de nervios HONORARY GOYA Imperio Argentina (Actress)

1990

BEST FILM (MEJOR PELÍCULA) El sueño del mono loco Esquilache El mar y el tiempo Montoyas y Tarantos El niño de la Luna BEST DIRECTOR (MEJOR DIRECTOR) Fernando Trueba, El sueño del mono loco Josefina Molina, Esquilache Fernando Fernán-Gómez, El mar y el tiempo

450     APPENDIX B

Agustí Villaronga, El niño de la Luna Vicente Aranda, Si te dicen que caí BEST NEW DIRECTOR (MEJOR DIRECTOR NOVEL) Ana Díez, Ander Eta Yul Cristina Andreu, Brumal Xavier Villaverde, Continental Isabel Coixet, Demasiado viejo para morir joven Teodoro Ríos and Santiago Ríos, Guarapo BEST LEAD ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR PRINCIPAL) Jorge Sanz, Si te dicen que caí Fernando Fernán-Gómez, Esquilache Fernando Fernán-Gómez, El mar y el tiempo Juan Diego, La noche oscura Alfredo Landa, El río que nos lleva BEST LEAD ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ PRINCIPAL) Rafaela Aparicio, El mar y el tiempo Verónica Forqué, Bajarse al moro Ángela Molina, Las cosas del querer Victoria Abril, Si te dicen que caí Ana Belén, El vuelo de la paloma BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR DE REPARTO) Adolfo Marsillach, Esquilache Enrique San Francisco, El baile del pato Fernando Guillén, La noche oscura Juan Echanove, El vuelo de la paloma Juan Luis Galiardo, El vuelo de la paloma Manuel Herte, El vuelo de la paloma BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ DE REPARTO) María Asquerino, El mar y el tiempo Chus Lampreave, Bajarse al moro María Barranco, Las cosas del querer Amparo Rivelles, Esquilache Concha Velasco, Esquilache BEST SCREENPLAY, ORIGINAL (MEJOR GUIÓN ORIGINAL) Agustí Villaronga, El niño de la Luna José Luis Cuerda, Amanece, que no es poco Manuel Iborra, El baile del pato Antonio Larreta, Lázaro Irazábal, Fernando Colomo, and Jaime Chávarri, Las cosas del querer Rafael Azcona and José Luis García Sánchez, El vuelo de la paloma

GOYA AWARDS (PREMIOS GOYA)     451

BEST SCREENPLAY, ADAPTED (MEJOR GUIÓN ADAPTADO) Fernando Trueba, Manolo Matji, and Menno Meyjes, El sueño del mono loco José Luis Alonso de Santos, Joaquín Oristrell, and Fernando Colomo, Bajarse al moro Josefina Molina, Joaquín Oristrell, and José Sámano, Esquilache Fernando Fernán-Gómez, El mar y el tiempo Vicente Aranda, Si te dicen que caí BEST CINEMATOGRAPHY (MEJOR FOTOGRAFIA) El sueño del mono loco Esquilache Montoyas y Tarantos El niño de la Luna La noche oscura BEST COSTUME DESIGN (MEJOR DISEÑO DE VESTUARIO) El niño de la luna Las cosas del querer Montoyas y Tarantos La noche oscura Si te dicen que caí BEST SOUND (MEJOR SONIDO) Montoyas y Tarantos Amanece, que no es poco Bajarse al moro El mar y el tiempo La noche oscura El sueño del mono loco BEST EDITING (MEJOR MONTAJE) El sueño del mono loco El mar y el tiempo Montoyas y Tarantos El niño de la Luna La noche oscura BEST SPECIAL EFFECTS (MEJORES EFECTOS ESPECIALES) The Rift Amanece, que no es poco El niño de la Luna La noche oscura El sueño del mono loco

452     APPENDIX B

BEST ORIGINAL SCORE (MEJOR MÚSICA ORIGINAL) Montoyas y Tarantos Bajarse al moro Las cosas del querer Esquilache El sueño del mono loco BEST PRODUCTION SUPERVISION (MEJOR DIRECCIÓN DE PRODUCCIÓN) El sueño del mono loco Bajarse al moro Esquilache El mar y el tiempo El niño de la Luna BEST PRODUCTION DESIGN (MEJOR DIRECCIÓN ARTÍSTICA) Esquilache Las cosas del querer El niño de la Luna Si te dicen que caí El sueño del mono loco BEST MAKEUP AND HAIRSTYLES (MEJOR MAQUILLAJE Y/O PELUQUERÍA) El niño de la Luna Las cosas del querer El mar y el tiempo Montoyas y Tarantos La noche oscura Si te dicen que caí El sueño del mono loco BEST SPANISH-LANGUAGE FOREIGN FILM (MEJOR PELÍCULA EXTRANJERA DE HABLA HISPANA) El bella del Alhambra (Cuba) Aventurera (Venezuela) HONORARY GOYA Victoriano López García (Headmaster of El Instituto de Investigaciones y Experiencias cinematográficas)

GOYA AWARDS (PREMIOS GOYA)     453

1991

BEST FILM (MEJOR PELÍCULA) ¡Ay, Carmela! Las cartas de Alou ¡Átame! BEST DIRECTOR (MEJOR DIRECTOR) Carlos Saura, ¡Ay, Carmela! Montxo Armendáriz, Las cartas de Alou Pedro Almodóvar, ¡Átame! BEST NEW DIRECTOR (MEJOR DIRECTOR NOVEL) Rosa Vergés, Boom Boom Paco Periñán, Contra el viento José María Carreño, Ovejas negras BEST LEAD ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR PRINCIPAL) Andres Pajarés, ¡Ay, Carmela! Imanol Arias, A solas contigo Antonio Banderas, ¡Átame! BEST LEAD ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ PRINCIPAL) Carmen Maura, ¡Ay, Carmela! Charo López, Lo más natural Victoria Abril, ¡Átame! BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR DE REPARTO) Gabino Diego, ¡Ay, Carmela! Juan Echanove, A solas contigo Francisco Rabal, ¡Átame! BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ DE REPARTO) María Barranco, Las edades de Lulú Rosario Flores, Contra el viento Loles León, ¡Átame! BEST SCREENPLAY, ORIGINAL (MEJOR GUIÓN ORIGINAL) Montxo Armendáriz, Las cartas de Alou Agustín Díaz Yánez, Eduardo Calvo, and Manolo Matji, A solas contigo Pedro Almodóvar, ¡Átame! BEST SCREENPLAY, ADAPTED (MEJOR GUIÓN ADAPTADO) Carlos Saura and Rafael Azcona, ¡Ay, Carmela! Josep Joan Bigas Luna and Almudena Grandes, Las edades de Lulú Luis Alcoriza, La sombra del ciprés es alargada

454     APPENDIX B

BEST CINEMATOGRAPHY (MEJOR FOTOGRAFIA) Las cartas de Alou ¡Ay, Carmela! ¡Átame! BEST COSTUME DESIGN (MEJOR DISEÑO DE VESTUARIO) ¡Ay, Carmela! Yo soy ésa ¡Átame! BEST SOUND (MEJOR SONIDO) ¡Ay, Carmela! Las cartas de Alou ¡Átame! BEST EDITING (MEJOR MONTAJE) ¡Ay, Carmela! Las cartas de Alou ¡Átame! BEST SPECIAL EFFECTS (MEJORES EFECTOS ESPECIALES) ¡Ay, Carmela! Las cartas de Alou Don Juan, mi querido fantasma BEST ORIGINAL SCORE (MEJOR MÚSICA ORIGINAL) Lo más natural ¡Ay, Carmela! ¡Átame! BEST PRODUCTION SUPERVISION (MEJOR DIRECCIÓN DE PRODUCCIÓN) ¡Ay, Carmela! Las cartas de Alou ¡Átame! BEST PRODUCTION DESIGN (MEJOR DIRECCIÓN ARTÍSTICA) ¡Ay, Carmela! Lo más natural ¡Átame! BEST MAKEUP AND HAIRSTYLES (MEJOR MAQUILLAJE Y/O PELUQUERÍA) ¡Ay, Carmela! Lo más natural ¡Átame!

GOYA AWARDS (PREMIOS GOYA)     455

BEST SPANISH-LANGUAGE FOREIGN FILM (MEJOR PELÍCULA EXTRANJERA DE HABLA HISPANA) Caídos del cielo (Peru) Caluga o Menta (Chile) María Antonia (Cuba) HONORARY GOYA Enrique Alarcón (Art/Set Director and Production Designer)

1992

BEST FILM (MEJOR PELÍCULA) Amantes Don Juan en los infiernos El rey pasmado BEST DIRECTOR (MEJOR DIRECTOR) Vicente Aranda, Amantes Pilar Miró, Beltenebros Imanol Uribe, El rey pasmado BEST NEW DIRECTOR (MEJOR DIRECTOR NOVEL) Juanma Bajo Ulloa, Alas de mariposa Ana Belén, Cómo ser mujer y no morir en el intento Manuel Gómez Pereira, Salsa rosa BEST LEAD ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR PRINCIPAL) Fernando Guillén, Don Juan en los infiernos Jorge Sanz, Amantes Gabino Diego, El rey pasmado BEST LEAD ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ PRINCIPAL) Silvia Munt, Alas de mariposa Victoria Abril, Amantes Maribel Verdú, Amantes BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR DE REPARTO) Juan Diego, El rey pasmado José Luis Gómez, Beltenebros Javier Gurruchaga, El rey pasmado BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ DE REPARTO) Kiti Manver, Todo por la pasta María Barranco, El rey pasmado Cristina Marcos, Tacones lejanos

456     APPENDIX B

BEST SCREENPLAY, ORIGINAL (MEJOR GUIÓN ORIGINAL) Juanma Bajo Ulloa and Eduardo Bajo Ulloa, Alas de mariposa Álvaro del Amo, Carlos Pérez Merinero, and Vicente Aranda, Amantes Luis Marías, Todo por la pasta BEST SCREENPLAY, ADAPTED (MEJOR GUIÓN ADAPTADO) Joan Potau and Gonzalo Torrente Malvido, El rey pasmado Mario Camus, Juan Antonio Porto, and Pilar Miró, Beltenebros Carmen Rico-Godoy, Cómo ser mujer y no morir en el intento BEST CINEMATOGRAPHY (MEJOR FOTOGRAFIA) Beltenebros Don Juan en los infiernos El rey pasmado BEST COSTUME DESIGN (MEJOR DISEÑO DE VESTUARIO) El rey pasmado Don Juan en los infiernos Tacones lejanos BEST SOUND (MEJOR SONIDO) El rey pasmado Beltenebros Tacones lejanos BEST EDITING (MEJOR MONTAJE) Beltenebros Amantes Tacones lejanos BEST SPECIAL EFFECTS (MEJORES EFECTOS ESPECIALES) Beltenebros Capità Escalaborns Todo por la pasta BEST ORIGINAL SCORE (MEJOR MÚSICA ORIGINAL) El rey pasmado Don Juan en los infiernos Todo por la pasta BEST PRODUCTION SUPERVISION (MEJOR DIRECCIÓN DE PRODUCCIÓN) El rey pasmado Beltenebros Don Juan en los infiernos

GOYA AWARDS (PREMIOS GOYA)     457

BEST PRODUCTION DESIGN (MEJOR DIRECCIÓN ARTÍSTICA) El rey pasmado Beltenebros Don Juan en los infiernos BEST MAKEUP AND HAIRSTYLES (MEJOR MAQUILLAJE Y/O PELUQUERÍA) El rey pasmado Beltenebros Tacones lejanos BEST SPANISH-LANGUAGE FOREIGN FILM (MEJOR PELÍCULA EXTRANJERA DE HABLA HISPANA) La frontera (Chile) Hello Hemingway (Cuba) Jericó (Venezuela) Técnicas de duelo: Una cuestión de honor (Colombia) HONORARY GOYA Emiliano Piedra (Producer)

1993

BEST FILM (MEJOR PELÍCULA) Belle Epoque Jamón, jamón El maestro de esgrima BEST DIRECTOR (MEJOR DIRECTOR) Fernando Trueba, Belle Epoque Josep Joan Bigas Luna, Jamón, jamón Pedro Olea, El maestro de esgrima BEST NEW DIRECTOR (MEJOR DIRECTOR NOVEL) Julio Medem, Vacas Álex de la Iglesia, Acción mutante Chus Gutiérrez, Sublet BEST LEAD ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR PRINCIPAL) Alfredo Landa, La marrana Jorge Sanz, Belle Epoque Javier Bardem, Jamón, jamón BEST LEAD ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ PRINCIPAL) Ariadna Gil, Belle Epoque Penélope Cruz, Jamón, jamón Asumpta Serna, El maestro de esgrima

458     APPENDIX B

BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR DE REPARTO) Fernando Fernán-Gómez, Belle Epoque Gabino Diego, Belle Epoque Enrique San Francisco, Orquesta Club Virginia BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ DE REPARTO) Chus Lampreave, Belle Epoque Mary Carmen Ramírez, Belle Epoque Pastora Vega, Demasiado corazón BEST SCREENPLAY, ORIGINAL (MEJOR GUIÓN ORIGINAL) Rafael Azcona, José Luis García Sánchez, and Fernando Trueba, Belle Epoque Cuca Canals and Bigas Luna, Jamón, jamón Julio Medem and Michel Gaztambide, Vacas BEST SCREENPLAY, ADAPTED (MEJOR GUIÓN ADAPTADO) Francisco Prada, Antonio Larreta, Pedro Olea, and Arturo Pérez-Reverte, El maestro de esgrima Manuel Vazquez Montalban and Rafael Alcazar, El laberinto griego Adolfo Marsillach, Yo me bajo en la proxima, y usted? BEST CINEMATOGRAPHY (MEJOR FOTOGRAFIA) Belle Epoque El maestro de esgrima La marrana BEST COSTUME DESIGN (MEJOR DISEÑO DE VESTUARIO) El maestro de esgrima Belle Epoque La reina anónima BEST SOUND (MEJOR SONIDO) Orquesta Club Virginia Belle Epoque Jamón, jamón BEST EDITING (MEJOR MONTAJE) Belle Epoque Acción mutante El maestro de esgrima BEST SPECIAL EFFECTS (MEJORES EFECTOS ESPECIALES) Acción mutante Demasiado corazón Vacas

GOYA AWARDS (PREMIOS GOYA)     459

BEST ORIGINAL SCORE (MEJOR MÚSICA ORIGINAL) El maestro de esgrima Belle Epoque Vacas BEST PRODUCTION SUPERVISION (MEJOR DIRECCIÓN DE PRODUCCIÓN) Acción mutante Belle Epoque El maestro de esgrima BEST PRODUCTION DESIGN (MEJOR DIRECCIÓN ARTÍSTICA) Belle Epoque Acción mutante El maestro de esgrima BEST MAKEUP AND HAIRSTYLES (MEJOR MAQUILLAJE Y/O PELUQUERÍA) Acción mutante Belle Epoque El maestro de esgrima BEST SPANISH-LANGUAGE FOREIGN FILM (MEJOR PELÍCULA EXTRANJERA DE HABLA HISPANA) Un lugar en el mundo (Argentina) Como agua para chocolate (Mexico) Disparen a matar (Venezuela) BEST EUROPEAN FILM (MEJOR PELÍCULA EUROPEA) Indochine (France) Hidden Agenda (United Kingdom) Riff-Raff (United Kingdom) HONORARY GOYA Manuel Mur Oti (Director and Screenwriter)

1994

BEST FILM (MEJOR PELÍCULA) Todos a la cárcel Intruso Sombras en una batalla

460     APPENDIX B

BEST DIRECTOR (MEJOR DIRECTOR) Luis García Berlanga, Todos a la cárcel Vicente Aranda, Intruso Juanma Bajo Ulloa, La madre muerta BEST NEW DIRECTOR (MEJOR DIRECTOR NOVEL) Mariano Barroso, Mi hermano del alma José Ángel Bohollo, Ciénaga Arantxa Lazcano, Urte ilunak BEST LEAD ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR PRINCIPAL) Juan Echanove, Madregilda Javier Bardem, Huevos de oro Imanol Arias, Intruso BEST LEAD ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ PRINCIPAL) Verónica Forqué, Kika Emma Suárez, La ardilla roja Carmen Maura, Sombras en una batalla BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR DE REPARTO) Fernando Valverde, Sombras en una batalla Juan Echanove, Mi hermano del alma Javier Gurruchaga, Tirano Banderas BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ DE REPARTO) Rosa Maria Sardá, ¿Por que lo llaman amor cuando quieren decir sexo? María Barranco, La ardilla roja Rossy de Palma, Kika BEST SCREENPLAY, ORIGINAL (MEJOR GUIÓN ORIGINAL) Mario Camus, Sombras en una batalla Ángel Fernández Santos and Francisco Regueiro, Madregilda Jorge García Berlanga and Luis García Berlanga, Todos a la cárcel BEST SCREENPLAY, ADAPTED (MEJOR GUIÓN ADAPTADO) José Luis García Sánchez and Rafael Azcona, Tirano Banderas Vicente Aranda, El amante bilingüe Guillem-Jordi Graells and Gonzalo Herralde, La febre d’or BEST CINEMATOGRAPHY (MEJOR FOTOGRAFIA) El pájaro de la felicidad La madre muerta Madregilda

GOYA AWARDS (PREMIOS GOYA)     461

BEST COSTUME DESIGN (MEJOR DISEÑO DE VESTUARIO) Tirano Banderas Kika Madregilda BEST SOUND (MEJOR SONIDO) Todos a la cárcel Kika El pájaro de la felicidad BEST EDITING (MEJOR MONTAJE) Tirano Banderas Intruso La madre muerta BEST SPECIAL EFFECTS (MEJORES EFECTOS ESPECIALES) La madre muerta Kika Madregilda BEST ORIGINAL SCORE (MEJOR MÚSICA ORIGINAL) La ardilla roja Intruso ¿Por que lo llaman amor cuando quieren decir sexo? BEST PRODUCTION SUPERVISION (MEJOR DIRECCIÓN DE PRODUCCIÓN) Tirano Banderas Kika Todos a la cárcel BEST PRODUCTION DESIGN (MEJOR DIRECCIÓN ARTÍSTICA) Tirano Banderas Kika Madregilda BEST MAKEUP AND HAIRSTYLES (MEJOR MAQUILLAJE Y/O PELUQUERÍA) Tirano Banderas Kika Madregilda BEST SPANISH-LANGUAGE FOREIGN FILM (MEJOR PELÍCULA EXTRANJERA DE HABLA HISPANA) Gatica, el mono (Argentina) Golpes a mi puerta (Venezuela) Johnny cien pesos (Chile)

462     APPENDIX B

BEST EUROPEAN FILM (MEJOR PELÍCULA EUROPEA) Trois couleurs: Bleu (Poland/France) The Crying Game (United Kingdom) Peter’s Friends (United Kingdom) HONORARY GOYA Tony Leblanc (Actor)

1995

BEST FILM (MEJOR PELÍCULA) Días contados Canción de cuna La pasión turca BEST DIRECTOR (MEJOR DIRECTOR) Imanol Uribe, Días contados José Luis Garci, Cancion de cuna Vicente Aranda, La pasión turca BEST NEW DIRECTOR (MEJOR DIRECTOR NOVEL) Santiago Aguilar, Justino, un asesino de la tercera edad Héctor Carré, Dame fuego Álvaro Fernández Armero, Todo es mentira BEST LEAD ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR PRINCIPAL) Carmelo Gómez, Días contados Alfredo Landa, Canción de cuna Gabino Diego, Los peores años de nuestra vida BEST LEAD ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ PRINCIPAL) Cristina Marcos, Todos los hombres sois iguales Ruth Gabriel, Días contados Ana Belén, La pasión turca BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR DE REPARTO) Javier Bardem, Días contados Óscar Ladoire, Alegre ma non troppo Agustín González, Los peores años de nuestra vida BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ DE REPARTO) María Luisa Ponte, Canción de cuna Candela Peña, Días contados Silvia Munt, La pasión turca

GOYA AWARDS (PREMIOS GOYA)     463

BEST NEW ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR REVELACIÓN) Saturnino García, Justino, un asesino de la tercera edad Pepón Nieto, Días contados Coque Malla, Todo es mentira BEST NEW ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ REVELACIÓN) Ruth Gabriel, Días contados Elvira Mínguez Días contados Candela Peña, Días contados BEST SCREENPLAY, ORIGINAL (MEJOR GUIÓN ORIGINAL) Joaquín Oristrell, Yolanda García Serrano, Juan Luis Iborra, and Manuel Gómez Pereira, Todos los hombres sois iguales Gonzalo Suárez, El detective y la muerte David Trueba, Los peores años de nuestra vida BEST SCREENPLAY, ADAPTED (MEJOR GUIÓN ADAPTADO) Imanol Uribe, Días contados José Luis Garci and Horacio Valcárcel, Cancion de cuna Vicente Aranda, La pasión turca BEST CINEMATOGRAPHY (MEJOR FOTOGRAFIA) Cancion de cuna Días contados La pasión turca BEST COSTUME DESIGN (MEJOR DISEÑO DE VESTUARIO) Cancion de cuna Días contados La pasión turca BEST SOUND (MEJOR SONIDO) Los peores años de nuestra vida Días contados La pasión turca BEST EDITING (MEJOR MONTAJE) Días contados Cancion de cuna El detective y la muerte BEST SPECIAL EFFECTS (MEJORES EFECTOS ESPECIALES) Días contados Desvío al paraiso El detective y la muerte

464     APPENDIX B

BEST ORIGINAL SCORE (MEJOR MÚSICA ORIGINAL) La pasión turca Cancion de cuna El detective y la muerte BEST PRODUCTION SUPERVISION (MEJOR DIRECCIÓN DE PRODUCCIÓN) La pasión turca El detective y la muerte Días contados BEST PRODUCTION DESIGN (MEJOR DIRECCIÓN ARTÍSTICA) Cancion de cuna Días contados La pasión turca BEST MAKEUP AND HAIRSTYLES (MEJOR MAQUILLAJE Y/O PELUQUERÍA) Días contados Cancion de cuna La pasión turca BEST SPANISH-LANGUAGE FOREIGN FILM (MEJOR PELÍCULA EXTRANJERA DE HABLA HISPANA) Fresa y chocolate (Cuba) La estrategia del caracol (Colombia) Sin compasión (Peru) BEST EUROPEAN FILM (MEJOR PELÍCULA EUROPEA) The Snapper (United Kingdom) Raining Stones (United Kingdom) The Remains of the Day (United Kingdom) HONORARY GOYA José María Forqué (Director and Screenwriter)

1996

BEST FILM (MEJOR PELÍCULA) Nadie hablará de nosotras cuando hayamos muerto Boca a boca El día de la bestia

GOYA AWARDS (PREMIOS GOYA)     465

BEST DIRECTOR (MEJOR DIRECTOR) Álex de la Iglesia, El día de la bestia Manuel Gómez Pereira, Boca a boca Pedro Almodóvar, La flor de mi secreto BEST NEW DIRECTOR (MEJOR DIRECTOR NOVEL) Agustin Díaz Yánez, Nadie hablará de nosotras cuando hayamos muerto Manuel Huerga, Antártida Icíar Bollaín, Hola, ¿estás sola? BEST LEAD ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR PRINCIPAL) Javier Bardem, Boca a boca Álex Angulo, El día de la bestia Federico Luppi, Nadie hablará de nosotras cuando hayamos muerto BEST LEAD ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ PRINCIPAL) Victoria Abril, Nadie hablará de nosotras cuando hayamos muerto Ariadna Gil, Antártida Marisa Paredes, La flor de mi secreto BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR DE REPARTO) Luis Ciges, Así en el cielo como en la tierra Fernando Guillén Cuervo, Boca a boca Federico Luppi, La ley de la frontera BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ DE REPARTO) Pilar Bardem, Nadie hablará de nosotras cuando hayamos muerto Chus Lampreave, La flor de mi secreto Rossy de Palma, La flor de mi secreto BEST NEW ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR REVELACIÓN) Santiago Segura, El día de la bestia Carlos Fuentes, Antártida Juan Diego Botto, Historias del Kronen BEST NEW ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ REVELACIÓN) Rosana Pastor, Land and Freedom Amara Carmona, Alma gitana María Pujalte, Entre rojas BEST SCREENPLAY, ORIGINAL (MEJOR GUIÓN ORIGINAL) Agustin Díaz Yánez, Nadie hablará de nosotras cuando hayamos muerto Joaquín Oristrell, Naomi Wise, Juan Luis Iborra, and Manuel Gómez Pereira, Boca a boca Jorge Guerricaechevarría, Álex de la Iglesia, and Manuel Gómez Pereira, El día de la bestia

466     APPENDIX B

BEST SCREENPLAY, ADAPTED (MEJOR GUIÓN ADAPTADO) Montxo Armendáriz and Jose Ángel Mañas, Historias del Kronen Jaime de Armiñán, El palomo cojo Ventura Pons, El perquè de tot plegat BEST CINEMATOGRAPHY (MEJOR FOTOGRAFIA) Antártida El día de la bestia Flamenco (de Carlos Saura) BEST COSTUME DESIGN (MEJOR DISEÑO DE VESTUARIO) La leyenda de Balthasar el castrado El día de la bestia La ley de la frontera BEST SOUND (MEJOR SONIDO) El día de la bestia Boca a boca La flor de mi secreto BEST EDITING (MEJOR MONTAJE) Nadie hablará de nosotras cuando hayamos muerto Boca a boca El día de la bestia BEST SPECIAL EFFECTS (MEJORES EFECTOS ESPECIALES) El día de la bestia La cité des enfants perdus El niño invisible BEST ORIGINAL SCORE (MEJOR MÚSICA ORIGINAL) Nadie hablará de nosotras cuando hayamos muerto El día de la bestia El perquè de tot plegat BEST PRODUCTION SUPERVISION (MEJOR DIRECCIÓN DE PRODUCCIÓN) Nadie hablará de nosotras cuando hayamos muerto Boca a boca El día de la bestia BEST PRODUCTION DESIGN (MEJOR DIRECCIÓN ARTÍSTICA) El día de la bestia La flor de mi secreto La leyenda de Balthasar el castrado

GOYA AWARDS (PREMIOS GOYA)     467

BEST MAKEUP AND HAIRSTYLES (MEJOR MAQUILLAJE Y/O PELUQUERÍA) El día de la bestia La flor de mi secreto Nadie hablará de nosotras cuando hayamos muerto BEST SPANISH-LANGUAGE FOREIGN FILM (MEJOR PELÍCULA EXTRANJERA DE HABLA HISPANA) El callejón de los milagros (Mexico) El elefante y la bicicleta (Cuba) Sicario (Venezuela) BEST EUROPEAN FILM (MEJOR PELÍCULA EUROPEA) Lamerica (Italy) Carrington (France/United Kingdom) The Madness of King George (United Kingdom) HONORARY GOYA Federico G. Larraya (Cinematographer)

1997

BEST FILM (MEJOR PELÍCULA) Tesis Bwana El perro del hortelano BEST DIRECTOR (MEJOR DIRECTOR) Pilar Miró, El perro del hortelano Imanol Uribe, Bwana Julio Medem, Tierra BEST NEW DIRECTOR (MEJOR DIRECTOR NOVEL) Alejandro Amenábar, Tesis David Trueba, La buena vida Alfonso Albacete, Miguel Bardem, and David Menkes, Más que amor, frenesí BEST LEAD ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR PRINCIPAL) Santiago Ramos, Como un relámpago Carmelo Gómez, El perro del hortelano Antonio Banderas, Two Much

468     APPENDIX B

BEST LEAD ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ PRINCIPAL) Emma Suárez, El perro del hortelano Concha Velasco, Más allá del jardín Ana Torrent, Tesis BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR DE REPARTO) Luis Cuenca, La buena vida Jordi Mollà, La Celestina Nancho Novo, La Celestina BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ DE REPARTO) Mary Carillo, Más allá del jardín Maribel Verdú, La Celestina Loles León, Libertarias BEST NEW ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR REVELACIÓN) Fele Martínez, Tesis Emilio Buale, Bwana Liberto Rabal, Tranvía a la Malvarrosa BEST NEW ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ REVELACIÓN) Ingrid Rubio, Más allá del jardín Lucía Jiménez, La buena vida Silke, Tierra BEST SCREENPLAY, ORIGINAL (MEJOR GUIÓN ORIGINAL) Alejandro Amenábar, Tesis David Trueba, La buena vida Isabel Coixet, Cosas que nunca te dije BEST SCREENPLAY, ADAPTED (MEJOR GUIÓN ADAPTADO) Pilar Miró and Rafael Pérez, El perro del hortelano Mario Camus, Más allá del jardín Rafael Azcona and José Luis García Sánchez, Tranvía a la Malvarrosa BEST CINEMATOGRAPHY (MEJOR FOTOGRAFIA) El perro del hortelano La Celestina Tranvía a la Malvarrosa BEST COSTUME DESIGN (MEJOR DISEÑO DE VESTUARIO) El perro del hortelano La Celestina Libertarias

GOYA AWARDS (PREMIOS GOYA)     469

BEST SOUND (MEJOR SONIDO) Tesis Libertarias El perro del hortelano BEST EDITING (MEJOR MONTAJE) Tesis Asaltar los cielos El perro del hortelano BEST SPECIAL EFFECTS (MEJORES EFECTOS ESPECIALES) Tierra La lengua asesina Libertarias BEST ORIGINAL SCORE (MEJOR MÚSICA ORIGINAL) Tierra El perro del hortelano El último viaje de Robert Rylands BEST PRODUCTION SUPERVISION (MEJOR DIRECCIÓN DE PRODUCCIÓN) Tesis Libertarias Más allá del jardín BEST PRODUCTION DESIGN (MEJOR DIRECCIÓN ARTÍSTICA) El perro del hortelano La Celestina Tranvía a la Malvarrosa BEST MAKEUP AND HAIRSTYLES (MEJOR MAQUILLAJE Y/O PELUQUERÍA) El perro del hortelano La Cestina Libertarias BEST SPANISH-LANGUAGE FOREIGN FILM (MEJOR PELÍCULA EXTRANJERA DE HABLA HISPANA) Sol de otoño (Argentina) Pon tu pensamiento en mí (Cuba) Sin remitente (Mexico)

470     APPENDIX B

BEST EUROPEAN FILM (MEJOR PELÍCULA EUROPEA) Secrets & Lies (United Kingdom) Breaking the Waves (Denmark/Sweden/France/Netherlands/Norway) To Vlemma tou Odyssea (Greece/France/Italy) HONORARY GOYA Miguel Picazo (Director and Screenwriter)

1998

BEST FILM (MEJOR PELÍCULA) La buena estrella Martín (Hache) Secretos del corazón BEST DIRECTOR (MEJOR DIRECTOR) Ricardo Franco, La buena estrella Adolfo Aristarain, Martín (Hache) Montxo Armendáriz, Secretos del corazón BEST NEW DIRECTOR (MEJOR DIRECTOR NOVEL) Fernando León de Aranoa, Familia David Alonso and Fernando Cámara, Memorias del ángel caido Mireia Ros, La Moños BEST LEAD ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR PRINCIPAL) Antonio Resines, La buena estrella Jordi Mollà, La buena estrella Javier Bardem, Carne trémula BEST LEAD ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ PRINCIPAL) Cecilia Roth, Martín (Hache) Maribel Verdú, La buena estrella Julia Gutiérrez Caba, El color de las nubes BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR DE REPARTO) José Sancho, Carne trémula Antonio Valero, El color de las nubes Juan Jesús Valverde, Las ratas BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ DE REPARTO) Charo López, Secretos del corazón Ángela Molina, Carne trémula Vicky Peña, Secretos del corazón

GOYA AWARDS (PREMIOS GOYA)     471

BEST NEW ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR REVELACIÓN) Andoni Erburu, Secretos del corazón Manuel Manquiña, Airbag Fernando Ramallo, Carreteras secundarias BEST NEW ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ REVELACIÓN) Isabel Ordaz, Chevrolet Blanca Portillo, El color de las nubes Paulina Gálvez, Retrato de mujer con hombre al fondo BEST SCREENPLAY, ORIGINAL (MEJOR GUIÓN ORIGINAL) Ricardo Franco and Ángeles González Sinde, La buena estrella Fernando León de Aranoa, Familia Montxo Armendáriz, Secretos del corazón BEST SCREENPLAY, ADAPTED (MEJOR GUIÓN ADAPTADO) Jean-Louis Benoît, Josep Joan Bigas Luna, and Cuca Canals, La camarera del Titanic Josep Maria Benet i Jornet and Ventura Pons, Actrius Ignacio Martínez de Pisón, Carreteras secundarias BEST CINEMATOGRAPHY (MEJOR FOTOGRAFIA) El color de las nubes En brazos de la mujer madura La camarera del Titanic BEST COSTUME DESIGN (MEJOR DISEÑO DE VESTUARIO) La camarera del Titanic The Disappearance of García Lorca Perdita Durango BEST SOUND (MEJOR SONIDO) Secretos del corazón Martín (Hache) El tiempo de la felicidad BEST EDITING (MEJOR MONTAJE) Airbag El color de las nubes Secretos del corazón BEST SPECIAL EFFECTS (MEJORES EFECTOS ESPECIALES) Airbag La camarera del Titanic Territorio Comanche

472     APPENDIX B

BEST ORIGINAL SCORE (MEJOR MÚSICA ORIGINAL) La buena estrella Perdita Durango Tic Tac BEST PRODUCTION SUPERVISION (MEJOR DIRECCIÓN DE PRODUCCIÓN) Perdita Durango La camarera del Titanic Territorio Comanche BEST PRODUCTION DESIGN (MEJOR DIRECCIÓN ARTÍSTICA) Secretos del corazón El color de las nubes En brazos de la mujer madura BEST MAKEUP AND HAIRSTYLES (MEJOR MAQUILLAJE Y/O PELUQUERÍA) Perdita Durango The Disappearance of García Lorca La herida luminosa BEST SPANISH-LANGUAGE FOREIGN FILM (MEJOR PELÍCULA EXTRANJERA DE HABLA HISPANA) Cenizas del paraíso (Argentina) Amor vertical (Cuba) Última llamada (Mexico) BEST EUROPEAN FILM (MEJOR PELÍCULA EUROPEA) The Full Monty (United Kingdom) Brassed Off (United Kingdom) The English Patient (United States) HONORARY GOYA Rafael Azcona (Screenwriter)

1999

BEST FILM (MEJOR PELÍCULA) La niña de tus ojos Abre los ojos El abuelo Barrio

GOYA AWARDS (PREMIOS GOYA)     473

BEST DIRECTOR (MEJOR DIRECTOR) Fernando León de Aranoa, Barrio Alejandro Amenábar, Abre los ojos José Luis Garci, El abuelo Fernando Trueba, La niña de tus ojos BEST NEW DIRECTOR (MEJOR DIRECTOR NOVEL) Santiago Segura, Torrente, el brazo tonto de la ley Salvador García Ruiz, Mensaka Javier Fesser, El milagro de P. Tinto Miguel Albaladejo, La primera noche de mi vida BEST LEAD ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR PRINCIPAL) Fernando Fernán-Gómez, El abuelo Eduardo Noriega, Abre los ojos Gabino Diego, La hora de los valientes Antonio Resines, La niña de tus ojos BEST LEAD ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ PRINCIPAL) Penélope Cruz, La niña de tus ojos Cayetana Guillén Cuervo, El abuelo Najwa Nimri, Los amantes del círculo polar Leonor Watling, La hora de los valientes BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR DE REPARTO) Tony Leblanc, Torrente, el brazo tonto de la ley Agustín González, El abuelo Francisco Algora, Barrio Jorge Sanz, La niña de tus ojos BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ DE REPARTO) Adriana Ozores, La hora de los valientes Alicia Sánchez, Barrio Loles León, La niña de tus ojos Rosa Maria Sardà, La niña de tus ojos BEST NEW ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR REVELACIÓN) Miróslav Taborsky, La niña de tus ojos Ernesto Alterio, Los años bárbaros Tristán Ulloa, Mensaka Javier Cámara, Torrente, el brazo tonto de la ley BEST NEW ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ REVELACIÓN) Marieta Orozco, Barrio Violeta Rodríguez, Cosas que deje en La Habana Goya Toledo, Mararía María Esteve, Nada en el nevera

474     APPENDIX B

BEST SCREENPLAY, ORIGINAL (MEJOR GUIÓN ORIGINAL) Fernando León de Aranoa, Barrio Julio Medem, Los amantes del círculo polar Alejandro Amenábar and Mateo Gil, Abre los ojos Miguel Ángel Egea and Carlos López, La niña de tus ojos BEST SCREENPLAY, ADAPTED (MEJOR GUIÓN ADAPTADO) Salvador García Ruiz, Mensaka José Luis Garci and Horacio Valcárcel, El abuelo Fernando Colomo, José Ángel Esteban, Carlos López, and Nicolás Sánchez Albornoz, Los años bárbaros Antonio José Betancor and Carlos Álvarez, Mararía BEST CINEMATOGRAPHY (MEJOR FOTOGRAFIA) Mararía El abuelo La niña de tus ojos Tango, no me dejes nunca BEST COSTUME DESIGN (MEJOR DISEÑO DE VESTUARIO) La niña de tus ojos A los que tus ojos El abuelo La hora de los valientes BEST SOUND (MEJOR SONIDO) Tango, no me dejes nunca Abre los ojos El abuelo Los años bárbaros La niña de tus ojos BEST EDITING (MEJOR MONTAJE) Los amantes del círculo polar Abre los ojos El abuelo La niña de tus ojos BEST SPECIAL EFFECTS (MEJORES EFECTOS ESPECIALES) El milagro de P. Tinto Abre los ojos La hora de los valientes La niña de tus ojos

GOYA AWARDS (PREMIOS GOYA)     475

BEST ORIGINAL SCORE (MEJOR MÚSICA ORIGINAL) Los amantes del círculo polar Los años bárbaros Mararía La niña de tus ojos BEST PRODUCTION SUPERVISION (MEJOR DIRECCIÓN DE PRODUCCIÓN) La niña de tus ojos Abre los ojos El abuelo La hora de los valientes BEST PRODUCTION DESIGN (MEJOR DIRECCIÓN ARTÍSTICA) La niña de tus ojos Abre los ojos El abuelo Mararía BEST MAKEUP AND HAIRSTYLES (MEJOR MAQUILLAJE Y/O PELUQUERÍA) La niña de tus ojos Abre los ojos El abuelo Los años bárbaros BEST SPANISH-LANGUAGE FOREIGN FILM (MEJOR PELÍCULA EXTRANJERA DE HABLA HISPANA) El faro (Argentina) Amaneció de golpe (Venezuela) Esmeralda de noche vienes (Mexico) Kleines Tropicana (Cuba/Spain/Germany) BEST EUROPEAN FILM (MEJOR PELÍCULA EUROPEA) The Boxer (Ireland/United States) Aprile (France/Italy) Marius et Jeannette (France) Vor (Russia/France) HONORARY GOYA Rafael Alonso (Actor)

476     APPENDIX B

2000

BEST FILM (MEJOR PELÍCULA) Todo sobre mi madre Cuando vuelvas a mi lado La lengua de las mariposas Solas BEST DIRECTOR (MEJOR DIRECTOR) Pedro Almodóvar, Todo sobre mi madre Gracia Querejeta, Cuando vuelvas a mi lado José Luis Cuerda, La lengua de las mariposas Benito Zambrano, Solas BEST NEW DIRECTOR (MEJOR DIRECTOR NOVEL) Benito Zambrano, Solas María Ripoll, The Man with Rain in His Shoes Miguel Bardem, La mujer más fea del mundo Mateo Gil, Nadie conoce a nadie BEST LEAD ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR PRINCIPAL) Francisco Rabal, Goya en Burdeos José María Pou, Amic/Amat Fernando Fernán-Gómez, La lengua de las mariposas Jordi Mollà, Segunda piel BEST LEAD ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ PRINCIPAL) Cecilia Roth, Todo sobre mi madre Mercedes Sampietro, Cuando vuelvas a mi lado Carmen Maura, Lisboa Ariadna Gil, Lágrimas negras BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR DE REPARTO) Juan Diego, París Tombuctú Mario Gas, Amic/Amat José Coronado, Goya en Burdeos Álex Angulo, Muertos de risa BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ DE REPARTO) María Galiana, Solas Adriana Ozores, Cuando vuelvas a mi lado Julieta Serrano, Cuando vuelvas a mi lado Candela Peña, Todo sobre mi madre

GOYA AWARDS (PREMIOS GOYA)     477

BEST NEW ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR REVELACIÓN) Carlos Álvarez-Novoa, Solas Luis Tosar, Flores de otro mundo Manuel Lozano, La lengua de las mariposas Eduard Fernández, Los lobos de Washington BEST NEW ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ REVELACIÓN) Ana Fernández, Solas María Botto, Celos Silvia Abascal, La fuente amarilla Antonia San Juan, Todo sobre mi madre BEST SCREENPLAY, ORIGINAL (MEJOR GUIÓN ORIGINAL) Benito Zambrano, Solas Icíar Bollaín and Julio Llamazares, Flores de otro mundo Elías Querejeta, Gracia Querejeta, and Manuel Gutiérrez Aragón, Cuando vuelvas a mi lado Pedro Almodóvar, Todo sobre mi madre BEST SCREENPLAY, ADAPTED (MEJOR GUIÓN ADAPTADO) Rafael Azcona, José Luis Cuerda, and Manuel Rivas, La lengua de las mariposas Josep Maria Benet i Jornet, Amic/Amat Paz Alicia Garcíadiego, El coronel no tiene quien le escriba Miguel Albaladejo and Elvira Lindo, Manolito Gafotas BEST CINEMATOGRAPHY (MEJOR FOTOGRAFIA) Goya en Burdeos La lengua de las mariposas Todo sobre mi madre Volavérunt BEST COSTUME DESIGN (MEJOR DISEÑO DE VESTUARIO) Goya en Burdeos La lengua de las mariposas Todo sobre mi madre Volavérunt BEST SOUND (MEJOR SONIDO) Todo sobre mi madre Goya en Burdeos La lengua de las mariposas Solas

478     APPENDIX B

BEST EDITING (MEJOR MONTAJE) Todo sobre mi madre Goya en Burdeos La lengua de las mariposas Solas BEST SPECIAL EFFECTS (MEJORES EFECTOS ESPECIALES) Nadie conoce a nadie La ciudad de los prodigios Goya en Burdeos La mujer más fea del mundo BEST ORIGINAL SCORE (MEJOR MÚSICA ORIGINAL) Todo sobre mi madre Cuando vuelvas a mi lado La lengua de las mariposas Solas BEST PRODUCTION SUPERVISION (MEJOR DIRECCIÓN DE PRODUCCIÓN) Todo sobre mi madre Goya en Burdeos La lengua de las mariposas Solas BEST PRODUCTION DESIGN (MEJOR DIRECCIÓN ARTÍSTICA) Goya en Burdeos La lengua de las mariposas Todo sobre mi madre Volavérunt BEST MAKEUP AND HAIRSTYLES (MEJOR MAQUILLAJE Y/O PELUQUERÍA) Goya en Burdeos La lengua de las mariposas Todo sobre mi madre Volavérunt BEST SPANISH-LANGUAGE FOREIGN FILM (MEJOR PELÍCULA EXTRANJERA DE HABLA HISPANA) La vida es silbar (Cuba/Spain) Del olvido al no me acuerdo (Mexico) Golpe de estadio (Colombia/Spain) Mundo grúa (Argentina)

GOYA AWARDS (PREMIOS GOYA)     479

BEST EUROPEAN FILM (MEJOR PELÍCULA EUROPEA) La vita è bella (Italy) Crna macka, beli macor (France/Germany) Le dîner de cons (France) Ça commence aujourd’hui (France) HONORARY GOYA Antonio Isasi-Isasmendi (Director and Screenwriter)

2001

BEST FILM (MEJOR PELÍCULA) El Bola La comunidad Leo You’re the One (una historia de entonces) BEST DIRECTOR (MEJOR DIRECTOR) José Luis Borau, Leo Jaime Chávarri, Besos para todos Álex de la Iglesia, La comunidad José Luis Garci, You’re the One (una historia de entonces) BEST NEW DIRECTOR (MEJOR DIRECTOR NOVEL) Achero Mañas, El Bola Daniel Monzón, El corazón del guerrero Cesc Gay, Krámpack (Nico and Dani) Patricia Ferreira, Sé quién eres BEST LEAD ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR PRINCIPAL) Juan Luis Galiardo, Adiós con el corazón Juan Diego Botto, Plenilunio Carmelo Gómez, El portero Miguel Ángel Solá, Sé quién eres BEST LEAD ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ PRINCIPAL) Carmen Maura, La comunidad Icíar Bollaín, Leo Adriana Ozores, Plenilunio Lydia Bosch, You’re the One (una historia de entonces) BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR DE REPARTO) Emilio Gutiérrez Caba, La comunidad Luis Cuenca, Obra maestro Juan Diego, You’re the One (una historia de entonces) Iñaki Miramón, You’re the One (una historia de entonces)

480     APPENDIX B

BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ DE REPARTO) Julia Gutiérrez Caba, You’re the One (una historia de entonces) Chusa Barbero, Besos para todos Terele Pávez, La comunidad Ana Fernández, You’re the One (una historia de entonces) BEST NEW ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR REVELACIÓN) Juan José Ballesta, El Bola Jordi Vilches, Krámpack (Nico and Dani) Javier Batanero, Leo Pablo Carbonell, Obra maestra BEST NEW ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ REVELACIÓN) Laia Marull, Fugitivas Pilar López de Ayala, Besos para todos Antònia Torrens, El mar Luisa Martín, Terca vida BEST SCREENPLAY, ORIGINAL (MEJOR GUIÓN ORIGINAL) Achero Mañas and Verónica Fernández, El Bola Jorge Guerricaechevarría and Álex de la Iglesia, La comunidad José Luis Borau, Leo José Luis Garci and Horacio Valcárcel, You’re the One (una historia de entonces) BEST SCREENPLAY, ADAPTED (MEJOR GUIÓN ADAPTADO) Fernando Fernán-Gómez, Lázaro de Tormes Cesc Gay and Tomás Aragay, Krámpack (Nico and Dani) Salvador García Ruiz, El otro barrio Manuel Hidalgo and Gonzalo Suárez, El portero BEST CINEMATOGRAPHY (MEJOR FOTOGRAFIA) You’re the One (una historia de entonces) Calle 54 La comunidad El mar Plenilunio BEST COSTUME DESIGN (MEJOR DISEÑO DE VESTUARIO) Lázaro de Tormes Besos para todos La comunidad You’re the One (una historia de entonces)

GOYA AWARDS (PREMIOS GOYA)     481

BEST SOUND (MEJOR SONIDO) Calle 54 El Bola La comunidad Plenilunio BEST EDITING (MEJOR MONTAJE) You’re the One (una historia de entonces) Calle 54 La comunidad Leo BEST SPECIAL EFFECTS (MEJORES EFECTOS ESPECIALES) La comunidad El arte de morir Año Mariano Obra maestra BEST ORIGINAL SCORE (MEJOR MÚSICA ORIGINAL) Sé quién eres Asfalto La comunidad Plenilunio BEST ORIGINAL SONG (MEJOR CANCIÓN ORIGINAL) “Fugitivas,” Fugitivas “El arte de morir,” El arte de morir “Gitano,” Gitano “Kilómetro cero,” Km. 0 BEST PRODUCTION SUPERVISION (MEJOR DIRECCIÓN DE PRODUCCIÓN) You’re the One (una historia de entonces) La comunidad El corazón del guerrero Lázaro de Tormes BEST PRODUCTION DESIGN (MEJOR DIRECCIÓN ARTÍSTICA) You’re the One (una historia de entonces) Besos para todos La comunidad Lázaro de Tormes

482     APPENDIX B

BEST MAKEUP AND HAIRSTYLES (MEJOR MAQUILLAJE Y/O PELUQUERÍA) Besos para todos La comunidad Lázaro de Tormes You’re the One (una historia de entonces) BEST SPANISH-LANGUAGE FOREIGN FILM (MEJOR PELÍCULA EXTRANJERA DE HABLA HISPANA) Plata quemada (Argentina) Lista de espera (Cuba) Pantaleón y las visitadoras (Peru) Ratas, ratones, rateros (Ecuador) BEST EUROPEAN FILM (MEJOR PELÍCULA EUROPEA) Dancer in the Dark (Denmark/Sweden) Chicken Run (United Kingdom) East Is East (United Kingdom) Trolösa (Sweden) HONORARY GOYA José Luis Dibildos (Screenwriter and Producer)

2002

BEST FILM (MEJOR PELÍCULA) The Others Juana la Loca Lucía y el sexo Sin noticias de Dios BEST DIRECTOR (MEJOR DIRECTOR) Alejandro Amenábar, The Others Vicente Aranda, Juana la Loca Julio Medem, Lucía y el sexo Agustín Díaz Yánez, Sin noticias de Dios BEST NEW DIRECTOR (MEJOR DIRECTOR NOVEL) Juan Carlos Fresnadillo, Intacto Víctor García León, Más pena que Gloria Carlos Molinero, Salvajes Javier Balaguer, Sólo mía

GOYA AWARDS (PREMIOS GOYA)     483

BEST LEAD ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR PRINCIPAL) Eduard Fernández, Fausto 5.0 Eusebio Poncela, Intacto Tristán Ulloa, Lucía y el sexo Sergi Lopez, Sólo mía BEST LEAD ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ PRINCIPAL) Pilar López de Ayala, Juana la Loca Nicole Kidman, The Others Victoria Abril, Sin noticias de Dios Paz Vega, Sólo mía BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR DE REPARTO) Emilio Gutiérrez Caba, El cielo abierto Antonio Dechent, Intacto Gael García Bernal, Sin noticias de Dios Eduard Fernández, Son de mar BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ DE REPARTO) Rosa Maria Sardà, Sin vergüenza Rosana Pastor, Juana la Loca Elena Anaya, Lucía y el sexo Najwa Nimri, Lucía y el sexo BEST NEW ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR REVELACIÓN) Leonardo Sbaraglia, Intacto Biel Durán, Más pena que Gloria James Bentley, The Others Rubén Ochandiano, Silencio roto BEST NEW ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ REVELACIÓN) Paz Vega, Lucía y el sexo Alakina Mann, The Others Malena Alterio, El palo María Isasi, Salvajes BEST SCREENPLAY, ORIGINAL (MEJOR GUIÓN ORIGINAL) Alejandro Amenábar, The Others Julio Medem, Lucía y el sexo Agustín Díaz Yánez, Sin noticias de Dios Dominic Harari, Joaquin Oristrell, Teresa Pelegri, and Cristina Rota, Sin vergüenza

484     APPENDIX B

BEST SCREENPLAY, ADAPTED (MEJOR GUIÓN ADAPTADO) Jorge Juan Martínez, Carlos Molinero, Clara Pérez Escrivá, and Lola Salvado, Salvajes Lluís-Anton Baulenas and Ventura Pons, Anita no pierde el tren Sigfrid Monleón, Ferran Torrent, Dominic Harari, and Teresa Pelegri, L’illa de l’holandes Rafael Azcona, Son de mar BEST CINEMATOGRAPHY (MEJOR FOTOGRAFIA) The Others Intacto Juana la Loca Lucía y el sexo BEST COSTUME DESIGN (MEJOR DISEÑO DE VESTUARIO) Juana la Loca El espinazo del diablo Off Key The Others BEST SOUND (MEJOR SONIDO) The Others Juana la Loca Lucía y el sexo Sin noticias de Dios BEST EDITING (MEJOR MONTAJE) The Others Juana la Loca Lucía y el sexo Sin noticias de Dios BEST SPECIAL EFFECTS (MEJORES EFECTOS ESPECIALES) Buñuel y la mesa del rey Salomón El espinazo del diablo Intacto The Others BEST ORIGINAL SCORE (MEJOR MÚSICA ORIGINAL) Lucía y el sexo Juana la Loca The Others Sin noticias de Dios

GOYA AWARDS (PREMIOS GOYA)     485

BEST ORIGINAL SONG (MEJOR CANCIÓN ORIGINAL) “Tu bosque animado,” El bosque animado “Again,” El cielo abierto “Semos diferentes,” Misión en Marbella “Sólo mía,” Sólo mía BEST PRODUCTION SUPERVISION (MEJOR DIRECCIÓN DE PRODUCCIÓN) The Others Intacto Juana la Loca Sin noticias de Dios BEST PRODUCTION DESIGN (MEJOR DIRECCIÓN ARTÍSTICA) The Others Intacto Juana la Loca Sin noticias de Dios BEST MAKEUP AND HAIRSTYLES (MEJOR MAQUILLAJE Y/O PELUQUERÍA) Juana la Loca Buñuel y la mesa del rey Salomón The Others Sin noticias de Dios BEST SPANISH-LANGUAGE FOREIGN FILM (MEJOR PELÍCULA EXTRANJERA DE HABLA HISPANA) La fuga (Argentina) Miel para Oshún (Cuba) Nadie te oye: Perfume de violetas (Mexico) Taxi para tres (Chile) BEST EUROPEAN FILM (MEJOR PELÍCULA EUROPEA) Le fabuleux destin d’Amelie Poulain (France) Billy Elliot (United Kingdom) Bridget Jones’s Diary (United Kingdom) Chocolat (United Kingdom) HONORARY GOYA Juan Antonio Bardem (Director and Screenwriter)

486     APPENDIX B

2003

BEST FILM (MEJOR PELÍCULA) Los lunas al sol En la ciudad sin límites Hable con ella El otro lado de la cama BEST DIRECTOR (MEJOR DIRECTOR) Fernando León de Aranoa, Los lunas al sol Antonio Hernández, En la ciudad sin límites Pedro Almodóvar, Hable con ella Emilio Martínez Lázaro, El otro lado de la cama BEST NEW DIRECTOR (MEJOR DIRECTOR NOVEL) Julio D. Wallovits and Roger Gual, Smoking Room Inés París and Daniela Féjerman, A mi madre le gustan las mujeres Ramón Salazar, Piedras Eduard Cortés, La vida de nadie BEST LEAD ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR PRINCIPAL) Javier Bardem, Los lunas al sol Sancho García, 800 balas Juan Luis Galiardo, El caballero Don Quijote Javier Cámara, Hable con ella BEST LEAD ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ PRINCIPAL) Mercedes Sampietro, Lugares communes Leonor Watling, A mi madre le gustan las mujeres Ana Fernández, Historia de un beso Adriana Ozores, La vida de nadie BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR DE REPARTO) Luis Tosar, Los lunas al sol José Coronado, La caja 507 Carlos Hipólito, Historia de un beso Alberto San Juan, El otro lado de la cama BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ DE REPARTO) Geraldine Chaplin, En la ciudad sin límites Tina Sáinz, Historia de un beso María Esteve, El otro lado de la cama Mar Regueras, Rencor

GOYA AWARDS (PREMIOS GOYA)     487

BEST NEW ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR REVELACIÓN) José Ángel Egido, Los lunas al sol Roberto Enríquez, El alquimista impaciente Carlos Iglesias, El caballero Don Quijote Guillermo Toledo, Los lunas al sol BEST NEW ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ REVELACIÓN) Lolita Flores, Rencor Nieve de Medina, Los lunas al sol Clara Lago, El viaje de Carol Marta Etura, La vida de nadie BEST SCREENPLAY, ORIGINAL (MEJOR GUIÓN ORIGINAL) Antonio Hernández and Enrique Brasó, En la ciudad sin límites Pedro Almodóvar, Hable con ella Fernando León de Aranoa and Ignacio del Moral, Los lunas al sol Julio D. Wallovits and Roger Gual, Smoking Room BEST SCREENPLAY, ADAPTED (MEJOR GUIÓN ADAPTADO) Adolfo Aristarain and Kathy Saavedra, Lugares comunes Manuel Gutiérrez Aragón, El caballero Don Quijote Fernando Trueba, El embrujo de Shanghai Antonio Chavarrías, Volverás BEST CINEMATOGRAPHY (MEJOR FOTOGRAFIA) El caballero Don Quijote El embrujo de Shanghai Historia de un beso Nos miran BEST COSTUME DESIGN (MEJOR DISEÑO DE VESTUARIO) El embrujo de Shanghai Callas Forever Historia de un beso El viaje de Carol BEST SOUND (MEJOR SONIDO) El otro lado de la cama La caja 507 Darkness Hable con ella

488     APPENDIX B

BEST EDITING (MEJOR MONTAJE) La caja 507 800 balas Aro Tolbukhin: En la mente del asesino Los lunas al sol BEST SPECIAL EFFECTS (MEJORES EFECTOS ESPECIALES) 800 balas Guerreros Hable con ella El robo más grande jamás contado BEST ORIGINAL SCORE (MEJOR MÚSICA ORIGINAL) Hable con ella 800 balas A mi madre le gustan las mujeres En la ciudad sin límites BEST ORIGINAL SONG (MEJOR CANCIÓN ORIGINAL) “Sevillana para Carlos,” Salomé “Ojos de gracela,” Arderás conmigo “Un lugar más allá,” Dragon Hill: La colina del dragon “Human Monkeys,” Guerreros BEST PRODUCTION SUPERVISION (MEJOR DIRECCIÓN DE PRODUCCIÓN) La caja 507 El embrujo de Shanghai Guerreros El viaje de Carol BEST PRODUCTION DESIGN (MEJOR DIRECCIÓN ARTÍSTICA) El embrujo de Shanghai El alquimista impaciente El caballero Don Quijote Historia de un beso BEST MAKEUP AND HAIRSTYLES (MEJOR MAQUILLAJE Y/O PELUQUERÍA) El embrujo de Shanghai Historia de un beso Lisístrata Trece campanadas

GOYA AWARDS (PREMIOS GOYA)     489

BEST SPANISH-LANGUAGE FOREIGN FILM (MEJOR PELÍCULA EXTRANJERA DE HABLA HISPANA) El último tren (Uruguay) El crimen del padre Amaro (Mexico) Un dia de suerte (Argentina) Nada (Cuba) BEST EUROPEAN FILM (MEJOR PELÍCULA EUROPEA) The Pianist (United Kingdom/Poland) Bella Martha (Germany) Gosford Park (United Kingdom) Italiesnk for begyndere (Denmark) HONORARY GOYA Manuel Alexandre (Actor)

2004

BEST FILM (MEJOR PELÍCULA) Te doy mis ojos My Life without Me Planta 4 Soldados de Salamina BEST DIRECTOR (MEJOR DIRECTOR) Cesc Gay, En la ciudad Icíar Bollaín, Te doy mis ojos Isabel Coixet, My Life without Me David Trueba, Soldados de Salamina BEST NEW DIRECTOR (MEJOR DIRECTOR NOVEL) Ángeles González Sinde, La suerte dormida David Serrano, Días de fútbol Jaime Rosales, Las horas del día Pablo Berger, Torremolinos 73 BEST LEAD ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR PRINCIPAL) Luis Tojar, Te doy mis ojos Ernesto Alterio, Días de fútbol Alfredo Landa, La luz prodigiosa Javier Cámara, Torremolinos 73 BEST LEAD ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ PRINCIPAL) Laia Marull, Te doy mis ojos Sarah Polley, My Life without Me

490     APPENDIX B

Ariadna Gil, Soldados de Salamina Adriana Ozores, La suerte dormida BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR DE REPARTO) Eduard Fernández, En la ciudad José Luis Gómez, La luz prodigiosa Joan Dalmau, Soldados de Salamina Juan Diego, Torremolinos 73 BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ DE REPARTO) Candela Peña, Te doy mis ojos Mónica López, En la ciudad María Botto, Soldados de Salamina María Pujalte, El lápiz del carpintero BEST NEW ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR REVELACIÓN) Fernando Tejero, Días de fútbol Óscar Jaenada, Noviembre Víctor Clavijo, El regalo de Silvia Juan Sanz, La vida mancha BEST NEW ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ REVELACIÓN) María Valverde, La flaqueza del bolchevique Verónica Sánchez, Al sur de granada Elisabet Gelabert, Te doy mis ojos Nathalie Poza, Días de fútbol BEST SCREENPLAY, ORIGINAL (MEJOR GUIÓN ORIGINAL) Icíar Bollaín, Te doy mis ojos Tomás Aragay and Cesc Gay, En la ciudad Jaime Rosales and Enric Rufas, Las horas del día Pablo Berger, Torremolinos 73 BEST SCREENPLAY, ADAPTED (MEJOR GUIÓN ADAPTADO) Isabel Coixet, My Life without Me Lorenzo Silva and Manuel Martín Cuenca, La flaqueza del bolchevique Fernando Marías, La luz prodigiosa David Trueba, Soldados de Salamina BEST CINEMATOGRAPHY (MEJOR FOTOGRAFIA) Soldados de Salamina Carmen El misterio Galíndez Al sur de granada

GOYA AWARDS (PREMIOS GOYA)     491

BEST COSTUME DESIGN (MEJOR DISEÑO DE VESTUARIO) Carmen La gran aventura de Mortadelo y Filemón Hotel Danubio Noviembre BEST SOUND (MEJOR SONIDO) Te doy mis ojos Más de mil cámaras velan por tu seguridad A selva La vida mancha BEST EDITING (MEJOR MONTAJE) La gran aventura de Mortadelo y Filemón Carmen Días de fútbol Te doy mis ojos BEST SPECIAL EFFECTS (MEJORES EFECTOS ESPECIALES) La gran aventura de Mortadelo y Filemón Al sur de Granada El refugio del mal Soldados de Salamina BEST ORIGINAL SCORE (MEJOR MÚSICA ORIGINAL) Al sur de Granada Eyengui, el dios del sueño Hotel Danubio Valentín BEST ORIGINAL SONG (MEJOR CANCIÓN ORIGINAL) “Humans Like You,” My Life without Me “Atracto a tu Corazón,” Atraco a las 3 . . . y media “Cuando me Maten” Carmen “Just Sorcery” Cosa de brujas BEST PRODUCTION SUPERVISION (MEJOR DIRECCIÓN DE PRODUCCIÓN) La gran aventura de Mortadelo y Filemón Al sur de Granada Carmen El misterio Galíndez

492     APPENDIX B

BEST PRODUCTION DESIGN (MEJOR DIRECCIÓN ARTÍSTICA) La gran aventura de Mortadelo y Filemón Carmen La luz prodigiosa El lápiz del carpintero BEST MAKEUP AND HAIRSTYLES (MEJOR MAQUILLAJE Y/O PELUQUERÍA) La gran aventura de Mortadelo y Filemón Carmen Hotel Danubio Noviembre BEST SPANISH-LANGUAGE FOREIGN FILM (MEJOR PELÍCULA EXTRANJERA DE HABLA HISPANA) Historias minimas (Argentina) El misterio del Trinidad (Mexico) Suite Habana (Cuba) El viaje hacia el mar (Uruguay) BEST EUROPEAN FILM (MEJOR PELÍCULA EUROPEA) Good Bye Lenin! (Germany) Dogville (Denmark) The Dreamers (United Kingdom/France/Italy) La fleur du mal (France) HONORARY GOYA Héctor Alterio (Actor)

2005

BEST FILM (MEJOR PELICULA) Mar adentro La mala educación Roma Tiovivo c.1950 BEST DIRECTOR (MEJOR DIRECTOR) Alejandro Amenábar, Mar adentro Pedro Almodóvar, La mala educación Aldolfo Aristarain, Roma Carlos Saura, El 7˚ día

GOYA AWARDS (PREMIOS GOYA)     493

BEST NEW DIRECTOR (MEJOR DIRECTOR NOVEL) Pablo Malo, Frío sol de invierno Santi Amodeo, Astronautas Vicente Peñarrocha, Fuera del cuerpo Ramón De Espana, Haz conmigo lo que quieras BEST LEAD ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR PRINCIPAL) Javier Bardem, Mar adentro Eduard Fernández, Cosas que hacen que la vida valga la pena Guillermo Toledo, Crimen ferpecto Eduardo Noriega, El lobo BEST LEAD ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ PRINCIPAL) Lola Dueñas, Mar adentro Ana Belén, Cosas que hacen que la vida valga la pena Pilar Bardem, María querida Penélope Cruz, Non ti muovere BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR DE REPARTO) Celso Bugallo, Mar adentro Luis Varela, Crimen ferpecto Unax Ugalde, Héctor Juan Diego, El 7˚ día BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ DE REPARTO) Mabel Rivera, Mar adentro Mercedes Sampietro, Inconscientes Silvia Abascal, El lobo Victoria Abril, El 7˚ día BEST NEW ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR REVELACIÓN) Tamar Novas, Mar adentro José Luis García Pérez, Cachorro Nilo Mur, Héctor Jorge Roelas, Tiovivo c.1950 BEST NEW ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ REVELACIÓN) Belén Rueda, Mar adentro Teresa Hurtado de Ory, Astronautas Monica Cervera, Crimen ferpecto Núria Gago, Héctor BEST SCREENPLAY, ORIGINAL (MEJOR GUIÓN ORIGINAL) Alejandro Amenábar and Mateo Gil, Mar adentro José Ángel Esteban and Carlos López, Horas de luz

494     APPENDIX B

Joaquín Oristrell, Dominic Harari, and Teresa Pelegri, Inconscientes Aldolfo Aristarain, Mario Camus, and Kathy Saavedera, Roma BEST SCREENPLAY, ADAPTED (MEJOR GUIÓN ADAPTADO) José Rivera, Diarios de motocicleta Jaime Chávarri and Eduardo Mendoza, El año del diluvio Margaret Mazzantini and Sergio Castellitto, Non ti muovere Salavado García Ruiz, Las voces de la noche BEST CINEMATOGRAPHY (MEJOR FOTOGRAFIA) Mar adentro Roma Romasanta Tiovivo c.1950 BEST COSTUME DESIGN (MEJOR DISEÑO DE VESTUARIO) The Bridge of San Luis Rey Inconscientes La puta y la ballena Tiovivo c.1950 BEST SOUND (MEJOR SONIDO) Mar adentro Crimen ferpecto Incautos Isi/Disi: Amor a lo bestia BEST EDITING (MEJOR MONTAJE) El lobo Frío sol de invierno Horas de luz Incautos BEST SPECIAL EFFECTS (MEJORES EFECTOS ESPECIALES) El lobo Crimen ferpecto Romasanta Torapia BEST ORIGINAL SCORE (MEJOR MÚSICA ORIGINAL) Mar adentro Héctor Inconscientes El maquinista

GOYA AWARDS (PREMIOS GOYA)     495

BEST ORIGINAL SONG (MEJOR CANCIÓN ORIGINAL) “Zambie mameto,” El milagro de Candeal “Atunes en el paraíso,” Atún y chocolate “Corre,” Incautos “La rubia de la cuarta fila,” Isi/Disi: Amor a lo bestia BEST PRODUCTION SUPERVISION (MEJOR DIRECCIÓN DE PRODUCCIÓN) Mar adentro Crimen ferpecto El lobo La mala educación BEST PRODUCTION DESIGN (MEJOR DIRECCIÓN ARTÍSTICA) Tiovivo c.1950 La mala educación Mar adentro El 7˚ día BEST MAKEUP AND HAIRSTYLES (MEJOR MAQUILLAJE Y/O PELUQUERÍA) Mar adentro Inconscientes Seres queridos Tiovivo c.1950 BEST SPANISH-LANGUAGE FOREIGN FILM (MEJOR PELÍCULA EXTRANJERA DE HABLA HISPANA) Whiskey (Uruguay) Luna de Avellaneda (Argentina) Machuca (Chile) El rey (Colombia) BEST EUROPEAN FILM (MEJOR PELÍCULA EUROPEA) Gegen die Wand (Germany) Being Julia (United Kingdom) Girl with the Pearl Earring (United Kingdom) Monsieur Ibrahim et les fleurs du Coran (France) HONORARY GOYA José Luis López Vázquez (Actor)

496     APPENDIX B

2006

BEST FILM (MEJOR PELÍCULA) Vida secreta de las palabras 7 vírgenes Obaba Princesas BEST DIRECTOR (MEJOR DIRECTOR) Isabel Coixet, Vida secreta de las palabras Alberto Rodriguez, 7 vírgenes Benito Zambrano, Habana blues Montxo Armendáriz, Obaba BEST NEW DIRECTOR (MEJOR DIRECTOR NOVEL) José Corbacho and Juan Cruz, Tapas Asier Altuna and Telmo Esnal, ¡Aupa Etxebeste! Guillem Morales, El habitante incierto Santiago Tabernero, Vida y color BEST LEAD ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR PRINCIPAL) Óscar Jaenada, Camarón Juan José Ballesta, 7 vírgenes Manuel Alexandre, Elsa y Fred Eduard Fernández, El método BEST LEAD ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ PRINCIPAL) Candela Peña, Princesas Adriana Ozores, Heroína Nathalie Poza, Malas temporadas Emma Vilarasau, Para que no me olvidos BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR DE REPARTO) Carmelo Gómez, El método Enrique Villén, Ninette Fernando Guillén, Otros días vendrán Javier Cámara, Vida secreta de las palabras BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ DE REPARTO) Elvira Mínguez, Tapas Verónica Sánchez, Camarón Pilar López de Ayala, Obaba Marta Etura, Para que no me olvidos

GOYA AWARDS (PREMIOS GOYA)     497

BEST NEW ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR REVELACIÓN) Jesús Carroza, 7 vírgenes Pablo Echarri, El método Luis Callejo, Princesas Álex González, Segundo asalto BEST NEW ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ REVELACIÓN) Micaela Nevárez, Princesas Isabel Ampudia, 15 días contigo Alba Rodríguez, 7 virgenes Bárbara Lennie, Obaba BEST SCREENPLAY, ORIGINAL (MEJOR GUIÓN ORIGINAL) Isabel Coixet, Vida secreta de las palabras Alberto Rodriguez and Rafael Cobos, 7 vírgenes Eduard Cortés and Piti Español, Otros días vendrán Fernando León de Aranoa, Princesas BEST SCREENPLAY, ADAPTED (MEJOR GUIÓN ADAPTADO) Marcelo Piñeyro and Mateo Gil, El método José Luis Garci and Horacio Valcárcel, Ninette Montxo Armendáriz, Obaba Roberto Santiago, El penalti más largo del mundo BEST CINEMATOGRAPHY (MEJOR FOTOGRAFIA) Iberia Ninette Obaba Otros días vendrán BEST COSTUME DESIGN (MEJOR DISEÑO DE VESTUARIO) Camarón Hormigas en la boca Kingdom of Heaven Princesas BEST SOUND (MEJOR SONIDO) Obaba Ninette Los nombres de Alicia Princesas BEST EDITING (MEJOR MONTAJE) Habana blues Iberia

498     APPENDIX B

El método Ninette BEST SPECIAL EFFECTS (MEJORES EFECTOS ESPECIALES) Frágiles Las llaves de la independencia Obaba Un rey en La Habana BEST ORIGINAL SCORE (MEJOR MÚSICA ORIGINAL) Habana blues Frágiles Ninette La noche del hermano BEST ORIGINAL SONG (MEJOR CANCIÓN ORIGINAL) “Me llaman calle,” Princesas “Llora por tus miseries,” Bagdad Rap “Los malos amores,” La noche del hermano “Laura,” Sinfín BEST PRODUCTION SUPERVISION (MEJOR DIRECCIÓN DE PRODUCCIÓN) Vida secreta de las palabras Camarón Habana blues Obaba BEST PRODUCTION DESIGN (MEJOR DIRECCIÓN ARTÍSTICA) Ninette Obaba Para que no me olvidos Segundo asalto BEST MAKEUP AND HAIRSTYLES (MEJOR MAQUILLAJE Y/O PELUQUERÍA) Camarón El Calentito Les Dalton Princesas BEST SPANISH-LANGUAGE FOREIGN FILM (MEJOR PELÍCULA EXTRANJERA DE HABLA HISPANA) Iluminados por el fuego (Argentina) Alma mater (Uruguay)

GOYA AWARDS (PREMIOS GOYA)     499

Mi mejor enemigo (Chile) Rosario Tijeras (Colombia) BEST EUROPEAN FILM (MEJOR PELÍCULA EUROPEA) Match Point (United Kingdom) Les choristes (France) The Constant Gardener (United Kingdom) Der Untergang (Germany) HONORARY GOYA Pedro Masó (Screenwriter)

2007

BEST FILM (MEJOR PELÍCULA) Volver Alatriste El laberinto del fauno Salvador (Puig Antich) BEST DIRECTOR (MEJOR DIRECTOR) Pedro Almodóvar, Volver Agustín Díaz Yánez, Alatriste Guillermo del Toro, El laberinto del fauno Manuel Huerga, Salvador (Puig Antich) BEST NEW DIRECTOR (MEJOR DIRECTOR NOVEL) Daniel Sánchez Arévalo, Azuloscurocasinegro Carlos Iglesias, Un franco, 14 pesetas Javier Rebollo, Lo que sé de Lola Jorge Sánchez-Cabezudo, La noche de los girasoles BEST LEAD ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR PRINCIPAL) Juan Diego, Vete de mí Viggo Mortensen, Alatriste Sergi López, El laberinto del fauno Daniel Bruhl, Salvador (Puig Antich) BEST LEAD ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ PRINCIPAL) Penélope Cruz, Volver Marta Etura, Azuloscurocasinegro Silvia Abascal, La dama boba Maribel Verdú, El laberinto del fauno

500     APPENDIX B

BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR DE REPARTO) Antonio de la Torre, Azuloscurocasinegro Juan Echanove, Alatriste Leonardo Sbaraglia, Salvador (Puig Antich) Juan Diego Botto, Vete de mí BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ DE REPARTO) Carmen Maura, Volver Ariadna Gil, Alatriste Lola Dueñas, Volver Blanca Portillo, Volver BEST NEW ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR REVELACIÓN) Quim Gutiérrez, Azuloscurocasinegro Alberto Amarilla, El camino de los ingleses Walter Vidarte, La noche de los girasoles Javier Cifrián, El próximo oriente BEST NEW ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ REVELACIÓN) Ivana Baquero, El laberinto del fauno Adriana Ugarte, Cabeza de perro Bebe, La educación de las hadas Verónica Echegui, Yo soy la Juani BEST SCREENPLAY, ORIGINAL (MEJOR GUIÓN ORIGINAL) Guillermo del Toro, El laberinto del fauno Pedro Almodóvar, Volver Daniel Sánchez Arévalo, Azuloscurocasinegro Jorge Sánchez-Cabezudo, La noche de los girasoles BEST SCREENPLAY, ADAPTED (MEJOR GUIÓN ADAPTADO) Lluis Arcarazo, Salvador (Puig Antich) Agustín Díaz Yánez, Alatriste Antonio Soler, El camino de los ingleses José Luis Cuerda, La educación de las hadas BEST CINEMATOGRAPHY (MEJOR FOTOGRAFIA) El laberinto del fauno Alatriste Salvador (Puig Antich) Volver BEST COSTUME DESIGN (MEJOR DISEÑO DE VESTUARIO) Alatriste Los Borgia

GOYA AWARDS (PREMIOS GOYA)     501

Goya’s Ghosts Volver BEST SOUND (MEJOR SONIDO) El laberinto del fauno Alatriste Salvador (Puig Antich) Volver BEST EDITING (MEJOR MONTAJE) El laberinto del fauno Alatriste Los Borgia Salvador (Puig Antich) BEST SPECIAL EFFECTS (MEJORES EFECTOS ESPECIALES) El laberinto del fauno Alatriste Goya’s Ghosts Salvador (Puig Antich) BEST ORIGINAL SCORE (MEJOR MÚSICA ORIGINAL) Volver Alatriste El laberinto del fauno Salvador (Puig Antich) BEST ORIGINAL SONG (MEJOR CANCIÓN ORIGINAL) “Tiempo pequeño,” La educación de las hadas “Imaginarte,” Azuloscurocasinegro “Duermen los niños,” Bienvenido a casa “Shockal fire ashe,” El próximo oriente BEST PRODUCTION SUPERVISION (MEJOR DIRECCIÓN DE PRODUCCIÓN) Alatriste Los Borgia Salvador (Puig Antich) Volver BEST PRODUCTION DESIGN (MEJOR DIRECCIÓN ARTÍSTICA) Alatriste Los Borgia El laberinto del fauno Volver

502     APPENDIX B

BEST MAKEUP AND HAIRSTYLES (MEJOR MAQUILLAJE Y/O PELUQUERÍA) El laberinto del fauno Alatriste Goya’s Ghosts Volver BEST SPANISH-LANGUAGE FOREIGN FILM (MEJOR PELÍCULA EXTRANJERA DE HABLA HISPANA) Las Manos (Argentina) American Visa (Bolivia) En la cama (Chile) Soñar no cuesta nada (Colombia) BEST EUROPEAN FILM (MEJOR PELÍCULA EUROPEA) The Queen (United Kingdom) Copying Beethoven (United States) Scoop (United Kingdom) The Wind That Shakes the Barley (United Kingdom) HONORARY GOYA Teddy Villalba (Set Decorator)

2008

BEST FILM (MEJOR PELÍCULA) La soledad Las 13 rosas El orfanato Siete mesas de billar francés BEST DIRECTOR (MEJOR DIRECTOR) Jaime Rosales, La Soledad Emilio Martínez Lázaro, Las 13 rosas Icíar Bollaín, Mataharis Gracia Querejeta, Siete mesas de billar francés BEST NEW DIRECTOR (MEJOR DIRECTOR NOVEL) Juan Antonio Bayona, El orfanato Félix Viscarret, Bajo las estrellas David and Tristán Ulloa, Pudor Tom Fernández, La torre de Suso

GOYA AWARDS (PREMIOS GOYA)     503

BEST ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR PRINCIPAL) Alberto San Juan, Bajo las estrellas Alfredo Landa, Luz de domingo Álvaro de Luna, El prado de las estrellas Tristán Ulloa, Mataharis BEST ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ PRINCIPAL) Maribel Verdú, Siete mesas de billar francés Blanca Portillo, Siete mesas de billar francés Belén Rueda, El orfanato Emma Suárez, Bajo las estrellas BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR SECUNDARIO) José Manuel Cervino, Las 13 rosas Raúl Arévalo, Siete mesas de billar francés Emilio Gutiérrez Caba, La torre de Suso Carlos Larrañaga, Luz de domingo Julián Villagrán, Bajo las estrellas BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ SECUNDARIA) Amparo Baró, Siete mesas de billar francés Geraldine Chaplin, El orfanato Nuria González, Mataharis María Vásquez, Mataharis BEST NEW ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR REVELACIÓN) José Luis Torrijo, La soledad Óscar Abad, El prado de las estrellas Gonzalo de Castro, La torre de Suso Roger Príncep, El orfanato BEST NEW ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ REVELACIÓN) Manuela Velasco, [Rec] Gala Évora, Lola, la película Bárbara Goenaga, Oviedo Express Nadia de Santiago, Las 13 rosas BEST SCREENPLAY, ORIGINAL (MEJOR GUIÓN ORIGINAL) Sergio G. Sánchez, El orfanato Icíar Bollaín and Tatiana Rodríguez, Mataharis Ignacio Martínez de Pisón, Las 13 rosas David Planell and Gracia Querejeta, Siete mesas de billar francés Gonzalo Suárez, Oviedo Express

504     APPENDIX B

BEST SCREENPLAY, ADAPTED (MEJOR GUIÓN ADAPTADO) Félix Viscarret, Bajo las estrellas Ventura Pons, Barcelona (un mapa) Laura Santullo, La zona Tristán Ulloa, Pudor Imanol Uribe, La carta esférica BEST CINEMATOGRAPHY (MEJOR FOTOGRAFÍA) Las 13 rosas Bajo las estrellas Siete mesas de billar francés BEST COSTUME DESIGN (MEJOR DISEÑO DE VESTUARIO) Las 13 rosas Lola, la película Luz de domingo El orfanato BEST SOUND (MEJOR SONIDO) El orfanato Las 13 rosas Siete mesas de billar francés Tuya siempre BEST EDITING (MEJOR MONTAJE) [Rec] Las 13 rosas El orfanato Siete mesas de billar francés BEST SPECIAL EFFECTS (MEJORES EFECTOS ESPECIALES) El orfanato Las 13 rosas El corazón de la tierra [Rec] BEST ORIGINAL SCORE (MEJOR MÚSICA) Las 13 rosas Bajo las estrellas El orfanato Oviedo Express BEST ORIGINAL SONG (MEJOR CANCIÓN ORIGINAL) “Fado da saudade,” Fados “Circus Honey Blues,” Concursante

GOYA AWARDS (PREMIOS GOYA)     505

“Pequeño paria,” El niño de barro “La vida secreta de las pequeñas cosas,” Cándida BEST PRODUCTION SUPERVISION (MEJOR DIRECCIÓN DE PRODUCCIÓN) El orfanato Las 13 rosas Luz de domingo Oviedo Express BEST PRODUCTION DESIGN (MEJOR DIRECCIÓN ARTÍSTICA) El orfanato Las 13 rosas Luz de domingo Oviedo Express BEST MAKEUP AND HAIRSTYLES (MEJOR MAQUILLAJE Y/O PELUQUERÍA) El orfanato Las 13 rosas El corazón de la tierra Oviedo Express BEST SPANISH-LANGUAGE FOREIGN FILM (MEJOR PELÍCULA EXTRANJERA DE HABLA HISPANA) XXY (Argentina) La edad de la peseta (Cuba) Mariposa negra (Peru) Padre Nuestro (United States) HONORARY GOYA Alfredo Landa (Actor)

2009

BEST FILM (MEJOR PELÍCULA) Camino Los crímenes de Oxford Los girasoles ciegos Solo quiero caminar BEST DIRECTOR (MEJOR DIRECTOR) Javier Fesser, Camino Álex de la Iglesia, Los crímenes de Oxford José Luis Cuerda, Los girasoles ciegos Agustín Díaz Yanes, Solo quiero caminar

506     APPENDIX B

BEST NEW DIRECTOR (MEJOR DIRECTOR NOVEL) Santiago A. Zannou, El truco del manco Belén Macías, El patio de mi cárcel Nacho Vigalondo, Los cronocrímenes Irene Cardona, Un novio para Yasmina BEST ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR PRINCIPAL) Benicio del Toro, Che: El argentine Javier Cámara, Fuera de carta Raúl Arévalo, Los girasoles ciegos Diego Luna, Solo quiero caminar BEST ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ PRINCIPAL) Carme Elías, Camino Verónica Echegui, El patio de mi cárcel Maribel Verdú, Los girasoles ciegos Ariadna Gil, Solo quiero caminar BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR SECUNDARIO) Jordi Dauder, Camino Fernando Tejero, Fuera de carta José Ángel Egido, Los girasoles ciegos José María Yazpik, Solo quiero caminar BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ SECUNDARIA) Penélope Cruz, Vicky Cristina Barcelona Elvira Mínguez, Cobardes Rosana Pastor, La conjura de El Escorial Tina Sáinz, Sangre de mayo BEST NEW ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR REVELACIÓN) Juan Manuel Montilla “Langui,” El truco del manco Álvaro Cervantes, El juego del ahorcado Martín Rivas, Los girasoles ciegos Luis Bermejo, Una palabra tuya BEST NEW ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ REVELACIÓN) Nerea Camacho, Camino Ana Wagener, El patio de mi cárcel Farah Hamed, Retorno a Hansala Esperanza Pedreño, Una palabra tuya BEST SCREENPLAY, ORIGINAL (MEJOR GUIÓN ORIGINAL) Javier Fesser, Camino Dionisio Pérez, José Antonio Quirós, and Ignacio del Moral, Cenizas del cielo

GOYA AWARDS (PREMIOS GOYA)     507

Chus Gutiérrez and Juan Carlos Rubio, Retorno a Hansala Agustín Díaz Yanes, Solo quiero caminar BEST SCREENPLAY, ADAPTED (MEJOR GUIÓN ADAPTADO) Rafael Azcona and José Luis Cuerda, Los girasoles ciegos Peter Buchman, Che, el argentine Jorge Guerricaechevarría and Álex de la Iglesia, Los crímenes de Oxford Ángeles González-Sinde, Una palabra tuya BEST CINEMATOGRAPHY (MEJOR FOTOGRAFÍA) Solo quiero caminar La conjura de El Escorial Los girasoles ciegos Sangre de mayo BEST COSTUME DESIGN (MEJOR DISEÑO DE VESTUARIO) El Greco La conjura de El Escorial Los girasoles ciegos Sangre de mayo BEST SOUND (MEJOR SONIDO) 3 días Los girasoles ciegos Sangre de mayo Solo quiero caminar BEST EDITING (MEJOR MONTAJE) Los crímenes de Oxford Mortadelo y Filemón: Misión salvar la Tierra Los girasoles ciegos Solo quiero caminar BEST SPECIAL EFFECTS (MEJORES EFECTOS ESPECIALES) Mortadelo y Filemón: Misión salvar la Tierra Camino Sangre de mayo Solo quiero caminar BEST ORIGINAL SCORE (MEJOR MÚSICA) Los crímenes de Oxford Los girasoles ciegos Che, el argentine El juego del ahorcado

508     APPENDIX B

BEST ORIGINAL SONG (MEJOR CANCIÓN ORIGINAL) “A tientas,” El truco del manco “Podemos volar juntos,” El patio de mi cárcel “Manousal,” Retorno a Hansala “Entre tu balcón y mi ventana,” Una palabra tuya BEST PRODUCTION SUPERVISION (MEJOR DIRECCIÓN DE PRODUCCIÓN) Los crímenes de Oxford Che, el argentine Los girasoles ciegos Solo quiero caminar BEST PRODUCTION DESIGN (MEJOR DIRECCIÓN ARTÍSTICA) Che, el argentine Los girasoles ciegos Sangre de mayo La conjura de El Escorial BEST MAKEUP AND HAIRSTYLES (MEJOR MAQUILLAJE Y/O PELUQUERÍA) Mortadelo y Filemón: Misión salvar la Tierra La conjura de El Escorial Los girasoles ciegos Sangre de mayo BEST SPANISH LANGUAGE FOREIGN FILM (MEJOR PELÍCULA EXTRANJERA DE HABLA HISPANA) La buena vida (Chile) Acné (Uruguay) Lake Tahoe (Mexico) Perro come perro (Colombia) HONORARY GOYA Jesús Franco (Director, Actor, Screenwriter, Composer, and Producer)

2010

BEST FILM (MEJOR PELÍCULA) Celda 211 Ágora El baile de la Victoria El secreto de sus ojos

GOYA AWARDS (PREMIOS GOYA)     509

BEST DIRECTOR (MEJOR DIRECTOR) Daniel Monzón, Celda 211 Alejandro Amenábar, Ágora Fernando Trueba, El baile de la Victoria Juan José Campanella, El secreto de sus ojos BEST NEW DIRECTOR (MEJOR DIRECTOR NOVEL) Mar Coll, Tres días con la familia David Planell, La vergüenza Borja Cobeaga, Pagafantas Antonio Naharro y Álvaro Pastor, Yo, también BEST ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR PRINCIPAL) Luis Tosar, Celda 211 Ricardo Darín, El secreto de sus ojos Jordi Mollà, El cónsul de Sodoma Antonio de la Torre, Gordos BEST ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ PRINCIPAL) Lola Dueñas, Yo, también Penélope Cruz, Los abrazos rotos Maribel Verdú, Tetro Rachel Weisz, Ágora BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR SECUNDARIO) Raúl Arévalo, Gordos Carlos Bardem, Celda 211 Ricardo Darín, El baile de la Victoria Antonio Resines, Celda 211 BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ SECUNDARIA) Marta Etura, Celda 211 Pilar Castro, Gordos Vicky Peña, El cónsul de Sodoma Verónica Sánchez, Gordos BEST NEW ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR REVELACIÓN) Alberto Ammann, Celda 211 Fernando Albizu, Gordos Gorka Otxoa, Pagafantas Pablo Pineda, Yo, también BEST NEW ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ REVELACIÓN) Soledad Villamil, El secreto de sus ojos Nausicaa Bonnín, Tres días con la familia

510     APPENDIX B

Leticia Herrero, Gordos Blanca Romero, After BEST SCREENPLAY, ORIGINAL (MEJOR GUIÓN ORIGINAL) Alejandro Amenábar and Mateo Gil, Ágora Alberto Rodríguez and Rafael Cobos, After Daniel Sánchez Arévalo, Gordos Pedro Almodóvar, Los abrazos rotos BEST SCREENPLAY, ADAPTED (MEJOR GUIÓN ADAPTADO) Daniel Monzón and Jorge Guerricaechevarría, Celda 211 Fernando Trueba, Jonás Trueba, and Antonio Skármeta, El baile de la Victoria Joaquín Górriz, Miguel Dalmau, Sigfrid Monleón, and Miguel Ángel Fernández, El cónsul de Sodoma Eduardo Sacheri and Juan José Campanella, El secreto de sus ojos BEST CINEMATOGRAPHY (MEJOR FOTOGRAFÍA) Ágora After Celda 211 El secreto de sus ojos BEST COSTUME DESIGN (MEJOR DISEÑO DE VESTUARIO) Ágora El baile de la Victoria El cónsul de Sodoma Los abrazos rotos BEST SOUND (MEJOR SONIDO) Celda 211 Ágora El baile de la Victoria Mapa de los sonidos de Tokio BEST EDITING (MEJOR MONTAJE) Celda 211 Ágora El baile de la Victoria Gordos BEST SPECIAL EFFECTS (MEJORES EFECTOS ESPECIALES) Ágora Celda 211 [Rec] 2 Spanish Movie

GOYA AWARDS (PREMIOS GOYA)     511

BEST ORIGINAL SCORE (MEJOR MÚSICA) Los abrazos rotos Ágora Celda 211 El secreto de sus ojos BEST ORIGINAL SONG (MEJOR CANCIÓN ORIGINAL) “Yo también,” Yo, también “Agallas vs. Escamas,” Agallas “Stick to the man,” Planet 51 “Spanish Song,” Spanish Movie BEST PRODUCTION SUPERVISION (MEJOR DIRECCIÓN DE PRODUCCIÓN) Ágora Celda 211 Che. Guerrilla El baile de la Victoria BEST PRODUCTION DESIGN (MEJOR DIRECCIÓN ARTÍSTICA) Ágora Celda 211 El baile de la Victoria El secreto de sus ojos BEST MAKEUP AND HAIRSTYLES (MEJOR MAQUILLAJE Y/O PELUQUERÍA) Ágora Celda 211 El cónsul de Sodoma Los abrazos rotos BEST SPANISH-LANGUAGE FOREIGN FILM (MEJOR PELÍCULA EXTRANJERA DE HABLA HISPANA) El secreto de sus ojos (Argentina) Dawson. Isla 10 (Chile) Gigante (Uruguay) La teta asustada (Perú) HONORARY GOYA Antonio Mercero (Director and Screenwriter)

512     APPENDIX B

2011

BEST FILM (MEJOR PELÍCULA) Pan negro (Pa negre) Balada triste de trompeta Enterrado (Buried) También la lluvia BEST DIRECTOR (MEJOR DIRECTOR) Agustí Villaronga, Pan negro (Pa negre) Álex de la Iglesia, Balada triste de trompeta Rodrigo Cortés, Enterrado (Buried) Icíar Bollaín, También la lluvia BEST NEW DIRECTOR (MEJOR DIRECTOR NOVEL) David Pinillos, Bon appétit Emilio Aragón, Pájaros de papel Juana Macías, Planes para mañana Jonás Trueba, Todas las canciones hablan de mí BEST ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR PRINCIPAL) Javier Bardem, Biutiful Antonio de la Torre, Balada triste de trompeta Ryan Reynolds, Enterrado (Buried) Luis Tosar, También la lluvia BEST ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ PRINCIPAL) Nora Navas, Pan negro (Pa negre) Belén Rueda, Los ojos de Julia Emma Suárez, La mosquitera Elena Anaya, Habitación en Roma BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR SECUNDARIO) Karra Elejalde, También la lluvia Eduard Fernández, Biutiful Álex Angulo, El gran Vázquez Sergi López, Pan negro (Pa negre) BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ SECUNDARIA) Laia Marull, Pan negro (Pa negre) Terele Pávez, Balada triste de trompeta Ana Wagener, Biutiful Pilar López de Ayala, Lope

GOYA AWARDS (PREMIOS GOYA)     513

BEST NEW ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR REVELACIÓN) Francesc Colomer, Pan negro (Pa negre) Manuel Camacho, Entrelobos Juan Carlos Aduviri, También la lluvia Oriol Vila, Todas las canciones hablan de mí BEST NEW ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ REVELACIÓN) Marina Comas, Pan negro (Pa negre) Carolina Bang, Balada triste de trompeta Natasha Yarovenko, Habitación en Roma Aura Garrido, Planes para mañana BEST SCREENPLAY, ORIGINAL (MEJOR GUIÓN ORIGINAL) Chris Sparling, Enterrado (Buried) Álex de la Iglesia, Balada triste de trompeta Alejandro González Iñárritu, Armando Bó Jr., and Nicolás Giacobone, Biutiful Paul Laverty, También la lluvia BEST SCREENPLAY, ADAPTED (MEJOR GUIÓN ADAPTADO) Agustí Villaronga, Pan negro (Pa negre) Jordi Cadena, Elisa K Julio Medem, Habitación en Roma Ramón Salazar, Tres metros sobre el cielo BEST CINEMATOGRAPHY (MEJOR FOTOGRAFÍA) Pan negro (Pa negre) Balada triste de trompeta Biutiful Enterrado (Buried) BEST COSTUME DESIGN (MEJOR DISEÑO DE VESTUARIO) Lope Balada triste de trompeta Pan negro (Pa negre) También la lluvia BEST SOUND (MEJOR SONIDO) Enterrado (Buried) Balada triste de trompeta Pan negro (Pa negre) También la lluvia BEST EDITING (MEJOR MONTAJE) Enterrado (Buried) Balada triste de trompeta

514     APPENDIX B

Biutiful También la lluvia BEST SPECIAL EFFECTS (MEJORES EFECTOS ESPECIALES) Balada triste de trompeta Enterrado (Buried) Lope También la lluvia BEST ORIGINAL SCORE (MEJOR MÚSICA) También la lluvia Balada triste de trompeta Biutiful Enterrado (Buried) BEST ORIGINAL SONG (MEJOR CANCIÓN ORIGINAL) “Que el soneto nos tome por sorpresa,” Lope “In the Lap of the Mountain,” Enterrado (Buried) “Loving Strangers,” Habitación en Roma “No se puede vivir con un franco,” Pájaros de papel BEST PRODUCTION SUPERVISION (MEJOR DIRECCIÓN DE PRODUCCIÓN) También la lluvia Balada triste de trompeta Lope Pan negro (Pa negre) BEST PRODUCTION DESIGN (MEJOR DIRECCIÓN ARTÍSTICA) Pan negro (Pa negre) Balada triste de trompeta Biutiful Lope BEST MAKEUP AND HAIRSTYLES (MEJOR MAQUILLAJE Y/O PELUQUERÍA) Balada triste de trompeta Lope Pan negro (Pa negre) También la lluvia BEST SPANISH-LANGUAGE FOREIGN FILM (MEJOR PELÍCULA EXTRANJERA DE HABLA HISPANA) La vida de los peces (Chile) El hombre de al lado (Argentina)

GOYA AWARDS (PREMIOS GOYA)     515

Contracorriente (Peru) El infierno (Mexico) HONORARY GOYA Mario Camus (Director and Scriptwriter)

2012

BEST FILM (MEJOR PELÍCULA) No habrá paz para los malvados Blackthorn La piel que habito La voz dormida BEST DIRECTOR (MEJOR DIRECTOR) Enrique Urbizu, No habrá paz para los malvados Mateo Gil, Blackthorn Pedro Almodóvar, La piel que habito Benito Zambrano, La voz dormida BEST NEW DIRECTOR (MEJOR DIRECTOR NOVEL) Kike Maíllo, EVA Paula Ortiz, De tu ventana a la mía Paco Arango, Maktub Eduardo Chapero-Jackson, Verbo BEST ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR PRINCIPAL) José Coronado, No habrá paz para los malvados Daniel Brühl, EVA Antonio Banderas, La piel que habito Luis Tosar, Mientras duermes BEST ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ PRINCIPAL) Elena Anaya, La piel que habito Verónica Echegui, Katmandú, un espejo en el cielo Salma Hayek, La chispa de la vida Inma Cuesta, La voz dormida BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR SECUNDARIO) Lluís Homar, EVA Raúl Arévalo, Primos Juanjo Artero, No habrá paz para los malvados Juan Diego, 23-F: la película

516     APPENDIX B

BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ SECUNDARIA) Ana Wagener, La voz dormida Maribel Verdú, De tu ventana a la mía Goya Toledo, Maktub Pilar López de Ayala, Intruders BEST NEW ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR REVELACIÓN) Jan Cornet, La piel que habito José Mota, La chispa de la vida Marc Clotet, La voz dormida Adrián Lastra, Primos BEST NEW ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ REVELACIÓN) María León, La voz dormida Blanca Suárez, La piel que habito Michelle Jenner, No tengas miedo Alba García, Verbo BEST SCREENPLAY, ORIGINAL (MEJOR GUIÓN ORIGINAL) Enrique Urbizu and Michel Gaztambide, No habrá paz para los malvados Miguel Barros, Blackthorn Martí Roca, Sergi Belbel, Cristina Clemente, and Aintza Serra, EVA Woody Allen, Midnight in Paris BEST SCREENPLAY, ADAPTED (MEJOR GUIÓN ADAPTADO) Ángel de la Cruz, Ignacio Ferreras, Paco Roca, and Rosanna Cecchini, Arrugas Icíar Bollaín, Katmandú, un espejo en el cielo Pedro Almodóvar, La piel que habito Benito Zambrano and Ignacio del Moral, La voz dormida BEST CINEMATOGRAPHY (MEJOR FOTOGRAFÍA) Blackthorn EVA La piel que habito No habrá paz para los malvados BEST COSTUME DESIGN (MEJOR DISEÑO DE VESTUARIO) Blackthorn La piel que habito La voz dormida No habrá paz para los malvados BEST SOUND (MEJOR SONIDO) No habrá paz para los malvados Blackthorn

GOYA AWARDS (PREMIOS GOYA)     517

EVA La piel que habito BEST EDITING (MEJOR MONTAJE) No habrá paz para los malvados Blackthorn EVA La piel que habito BEST SPECIAL EFFECTS (MEJORES EFECTOS ESPECIALES) EVA Intruders La piel que habito No habrá paz para los malvados BEST ORIGINAL SCORE (MEJOR MÚSICA) La piel que habito Blackthorn EVA No habrá paz para los malvados BEST ORIGINAL SONG (MEJOR CANCIÓN ORIGINAL) “Nana de la hierbabuena,” La voz dormida “Debajo del limón,” De tu ventana a la mía “Nuestra playa eres tú,” Maktub “Verbo,” Verbo BEST PRODUCTION SUPERVISION (MEJOR DIRECCIÓN DE PRODUCCIÓN) Blackthorn EVA La piel que habito No habrá paz para los malvados BEST PRODUCTION DESIGN (MEJOR DIRECCIÓN ARTÍSTICA) Blackthorn EVA La piel que habito No habrá paz para los malvados BEST MAKEUP AND HAIRSTYLES (MEJOR MAQUILLAJE Y/O PELUQUERÍA) La piel que habito Blackthorn EVA No habrá paz para los malvados

518     APPENDIX B

BEST SPANISH-LANGUAGE FOREIGN FILM (MEJOR PELÍCULA EXTRANJERA DE HABLA HISPANA) Un cuento chino (Argentina) Boleto al paraíso (Cuba) Miss Bala (Mexico) Violeta se fue a los cielos (Chile) HONORARY GOYA Josefina Molina (Director and Scriptwriter)

2013

BEST FILM (MEJOR PELÍCULA) Blancanieves El artista y la modelo Grupo 7 Lo imposible BEST DIRECTOR (MEJOR DIRECTOR) Juan Antonio Bayona, Lo imposible Pablo Berger, Blancanieves Alberto Rodríguez, Grupo 7 Fernando Trueba, El artista y la modelo BEST NEW DIRECTOR (MEJOR DIRECTOR NOVEL) Enrique Gato, Las aventuras de Tadeo Jones Paco León, Carmina o revienta Isabel de Ocampo, Evelyn Oriol Paulo, El cuerpo BEST ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR PRINCIPAL) José Sacristán, El muerto y ser feliz Daniel Giménez Cacho, Blancanieves Jean Rochefort, El artista y la modelo Antonio de la Torre, Grupo 7 BEST ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ PRINCIPAL) José Sacristán, El muerto y ser feliz Daniel Giménez Cacho, Blancanieves Jean Rochefort, El artista y la modelo Antonio de la Torre, Grupo 7 BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR SECUNDARIO) Julián Villagrán, Grupo 7 Ewan McGregor, Lo imposible

GOYA AWARDS (PREMIOS GOYA)     519

Josep Maria Pou, Blancanieves Antonio de la Torre, Invasor BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ SECUNDARIA) Candela Peña, Una pistola en cada mano Chus Lampreave, El artista y la modelo María León, Carmina o revienta Ángela Molina, Blancanieves BEST NEW ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR REVELACIÓN) Joaquín Núñez, Grupo 7 Emilio Gavira, Blancanieves Tom Holland, Lo imposible Àlex Monner, Els nens salvatges (Los niños salvajes) BEST NEW ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ REVELACIÓN) Macarena García, Blancanieves Carmina Barrios, Carmina o revienta Estefanía de los Santos, Grupo 7 Cati Solivellas, Els nens salvatges (Los niños salvajes) BEST SCREENPLAY, ORIGINAL (MEJOR GUIÓN ORIGINAL) Pablo Berger, Blancanieves Fernando Trueba and Jean-Claude Carrière, El artista y la modelo Alberto Rodríguez and Rafael Cobos, Grupo 7 Sergio G. Sánchez, Lo imposible BEST SCREENPLAY, ADAPTED (MEJOR GUIÓN ADAPTADO) Javier Barreira, Gorka Magallón, Ignacio del Moral, Jordi Gasull, and Neil Landau, Las aventuras de Tadeo Jones Jorge Guerricaechevarría and Sergio G. Sánchez, Fin Javier Gullón and Jorge Arenillas, Invasor Ramón Salazar Hoogers, Tengo ganas de ti Manuel Rivas, Todo es silencio BEST CINEMATOGRAPHY (MEJOR FOTOGRAFÍA) Blancanieves El artista y la modelo Grupo 7 Lo imposible BEST COSTUME DESIGN (MEJOR DISEÑO DE VESTUARIO) Blancanieves El artista y la modelo Grupo 7 La banda Picasso

520     APPENDIX B

BEST SOUND (MEJOR SONIDO) Lo imposible El artista y la modelo Grupo 7 Invasor BEST EDITING (MEJOR MONTAJE) Lo imposible Blancanieves El artista y la modelo Grupo 7 Invasor BEST SPECIAL EFFECTS (MEJORES EFECTOS ESPECIALES) Lo imposible Blancanieves Grupo 7 Invasor BEST ORIGINAL SCORE (MEJOR MÚSICA) Blancanieves Grupo 7 Las aventuras de Tadeo Jones Lo imposible BEST ORIGINAL SONG (MEJOR CANCIÓN ORIGINAL) “No te puedo encontrar,” Blancanieves “Líneas paralelas,” Els nens salvatges (Los niños salvajes) “L’as tu vue?” La banda Picasso “Te voy a esperar,” Las aventuras de Tadeo Jones BEST PRODUCTION SUPERVISION (MEJOR DIRECCIÓN DE PRODUCCIÓN) Lo imposible Blancanieves El artista y la modelo Grupo 7 BEST PRODUCTION DESIGN (MEJOR DIRECCIÓN ARTÍSTICA) Blancanieves El artista y la modelo Grupo 7 Lo imposible

GOYA AWARDS (PREMIOS GOYA)     521

BEST MAKEUP AND HAIRSTYLES (MEJOR MAQUILLAJE Y/O PELUQUERÍA) Blancanieves El artista y la modelo Grupo 7 Lo imposible BEST SPANISH-LANGUAGE FOREIGN FILM (MEJOR PELÍCULA EXTRANJERA DE HABLA HISPANA) Juan de los Muertos (Cuba) Después de Lucía (Mexico) Infancia clandestine (Argentina) Siete cajas (Paraguay) HONORARY GOYA Concha Velasco (Actress)

2014

BEST FILM (MEJOR PELÍCULA) Vivir es fácil con los ojos cerrados 15 años y un día Caníbal La gran familia española La herida BEST DIRECTOR (MEJOR DIRECTOR) David Trueba, Vivir es fácil con los ojos cerrados Gracia Querejeta, 15 años y un día Manuel Martín Cuenca, Caníbal Daniel Sánchez Arévalo, La gran familia española BEST NEW DIRECTOR (MEJOR DIRECTOR NOVEL) Fernando Franco, La herida Neus Ballús, La plaga Jorge Dorado, Mindscape Rodrigo Sorogoyen, Stockholm BEST ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR PRINCIPAL) Javier Cámara Vivir es fácil con los ojos cerrados Tito Valverde, 15 años y un día Antonio de la Torre, Caníbal Eduard Fernández, Todas las mujeres

522     APPENDIX B

BEST ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ PRINCIPAL) Marian Álvarez, La herida Inma Cuesta, 3 bodas de más Aura Garrido, Stockholm Nora Navas, Todos queremos lo mejor para ella BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR SECUNDARIO) Roberto Álamo, La gran familia española Carlos Bardem, Alacrán enamorado Juan Diego Botto, Ismael Antonio de la Torre, La gran familia española BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ SECUNDARIA) Terele Pávez, Las brujas de Zugarramurdi Susi Sánchez, 10.000 noches en ninguna parte Maribel Verdú, 15 años y un día Nathalie Poza, Todas las mujeres BEST NEW ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR REVELACIÓN) Javier Pereira, Stockholm Berto Romero, 3 bodas de más Hovik Keuchkerian, Alacrán enamorado Patrick Criado, La gran familia española BEST NEW ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ REVELACIÓN) Natalia de Molina, Vivir es fácil con los ojos cerrados Belén López, 15 años y un día Olimpia Melinte, Caníbal María Morales, Todas las mujeres BEST SCREENPLAY, ORIGINAL (MEJOR GUIÓN ORIGINAL) David Trueba, Vivir es fácil con los ojos cerrados Pablo Alén and Breixo Corral, 3 bodas de más Daniel Sánchez Arévalo, La gran familia española Fernando Franco and Enric Rufas, La herida BEST SCREENPLAY, ADAPTED (MEJOR GUIÓN ADAPTADO) Alejandro Hernández and Mariano Barroso, Todas las mujeres Santiago Zannou and Carlos Bardem, Alacrán enamorado Manuel Martín Cuenca and Alejandro Hernández, Caníbal Jorge Lara and Francisco Roncal, Zipi y Zape y el club de la canica BEST CINEMATOGRAPHY (MEJOR FOTOGRAFÍA) Caníbal 15 años y un día

GOYA AWARDS (PREMIOS GOYA)     523

Las brujas de Zugarramurdi Sombras de Nueva York BEST COSTUME DESIGN (MEJOR DISEÑO DE VESTUARIO) Las brujas de Zugarramurdi 3 bodas de más Los amantes pasajeros Vivir es fácil con los ojos cerrados BEST SOUND (MEJOR SONIDO) Las brujas de Zugarramurdi Caníbal La gran familia española La herida BEST EDITING (MEJOR MONTAJE) Las brujas de Zugarramurdi 3 bodas de más La gran familia española La herida BEST SPECIAL EFFECTS (MEJORES EFECTOS ESPECIALES) Las brujas de Zugarramurdi La gran familia española Los últimos días Zipi y Zape y el club de la canica BEST ORIGINAL SCORE (MEJOR MÚSICA) Zipi y Zape y el club de la canica A Night in Old Mexico La mula Las brujas de Zugarramurdi BEST ORIGINAL SONG (MEJOR CANCIÓN ORIGINAL) “Do You Really Want to Be in Love?” La gran familia española “Rap 15 años y un día,” 15 años y un día “Aquí Sigo,” A Night in Old Mexico “De cerca del mar,” Alegrías de Cádiz BEST PRODUCTION SUPERVISION (MEJOR DIRECCIÓN DE PRODUCCIÓN) Las brujas de Zugarramurdi 3 bodas de más Los últimos días Zipi y Zape y el club de la canica

524     APPENDIX B

BEST PRODUCTION DESIGN (MEJOR DIRECCIÓN ARTÍSTICA) Las brujas de Zugarramurdi Alacrán enamorado Caníbal Zipi y Zape y el club de la canica BEST MAKEUP AND HAIRSTYLES (MEJOR MAQUILLAJE Y/O PELUQUERÍA) Las brujas de Zugarramurdi 3 bodas de más Grand Piano La gran familia española BEST SPANISH-LANGUAGE FOREIGN FILM (MEJOR PELÍCULA EXTRANJERA DE HABLA HISPANA) Azul y no tan rosa (Venezuela) El médico alemán (Argentina) Gloria (Chile) La jaula de oro (Mexico) HONORARY GOYA Jaime de Armiñán (Director and Screenwriter)

2015

BEST FILM (MEJOR PELÍCULA) La isla mínima El niño Loreak (Flores) Magical Girl Relatos salvajes BEST DIRECTOR (MEJOR DIRECTOR) Alberto Rodríguez, La isla mínima Daniel Monzón, El niño Carlos Vermut, Magical Girl Damián Szifron, Relatos salvajes BEST NEW DIRECTOR (MEJOR DIRECTOR NOVEL) Carlos Marques-Marcet, 10.000 km Juanfer Andrés and Esteban Roel, Musarañas Curro Sánchez Varela, Paco de Lucía: la búsqueda Beatriz Sanchis, Todos están muertos

GOYA AWARDS (PREMIOS GOYA)     525

BEST ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR PRINCIPAL) Javier Gutiérrez, La isla mínima Raúl Arévalo, La isla mínima Luis Bermejo, Magical Girl Ricardo Darín, Relatos salvajes BEST ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ PRINCIPAL) Bárbara Lennie, Magical Girl María León, Marsella Macarena Gómez, Musarañas Elena Anaya, Todos están muertos BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR SECUNDARIO) Karra Elejalde, Ocho apellidos vascos Eduard Fernández, El niño Antonio de la Torre, La isla mínima José Sacristán, Magical Girl BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ SECUNDARIA) Carmen Machi, Ocho apellidos vascos Bárbara Lennie, El niño Mercedes León, La isla mínima Goya Toledo, Marsella BEST NEW ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR REVELACIÓN) Dani Rovira, Ocho apellidos vascos David Verdaguer, 10.000 km Jesús Castro, El niño Israel Elejalde, Magical Girl BEST NEW ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ REVELACIÓN) Nerea Barros, La isla mínima Natalia Tena, 10.000 km Yolanda Ramos, Carmina y amén Ingrid García-Jonsson, Hermosa juventud BEST SCREENPLAY, ORIGINAL (MEJOR GUIÓN ORIGINAL) Rafael Cobos and Alberto Rodríguez, La isla mínima Daniel Monzón and Jorge Guerricaechevarría, El niño Carlos Vermut, Magical Girl Damián Szifron, Relatos salvajes BEST SCREENPLAY, ADAPTED (MEJOR GUIÓN ADAPTADO) Javier Fesser, Cristóbal Ruiz, and Claro García, Mortadelo y Filemón contra Jimmy el Cachondo

526     APPENDIX B

Ignacio Vilar and Carlos Asorey, A esmorga Pablo Burgués, David Planell, and Chema Rodríguez, Anochece en la India Anna Soler-Pont, Rastres de sandal BEST CINEMATOGRAPHY (MEJOR FOTOGRAFÍA) La isla minima Autómata El niño Ocho apellidos vascos BEST COSTUME DESIGN (MEJOR DISEÑO DE VESTUARIO) La isla minima Autómata El niño Por un puñado de besos BEST SOUND (MEJOR SONIDO) El niño Autómata La isla mínima Mortadelo y Filemón contra Jimmy el Cachondo BEST EDITING (MEJOR MONTAJE) La isla mínima El niño Paco de Lucía: la búsqueda Relatos salvajes BEST SPECIAL EFFECTS (MEJORES EFECTOS ESPECIALES) El niño La isla mínima Open Windows Torrente 5: Operación Eurovegas BEST ORIGINAL SCORE (MEJOR MÚSICA) La isla mínima El niño Loreak (Flores) Relatos salvajes BEST ORIGINAL SONG (MEJOR CANCIÓN ORIGINAL) “Niño sin miedo,” El niño “Me ducho en tus besos,” Haz de tu vida una obra de arte “Morta y File,” Mortadelo y Filemón contra Jimmy el Cachondo “No te marches jamás,” Ocho apellidos vascos

GOYA AWARDS (PREMIOS GOYA)     527

BEST PRODUCTION SUPERVISION (MEJOR DIRECCIÓN DE PRODUCCIÓN) El niño La isla mínima Mortadelo y Filemón contra Jimmy el Cachondo Relatos salvajes BEST PRODUCTION DESIGN (MEJOR DIRECCIÓN ARTÍSTICA) La isla mínima Autómata El niño Mortadelo y Filemón contra Jimmy el Cachondo BEST MAKEUP AND HAIRSTYLES (MEJOR MAQUILLAJE Y/O PELUQUERÍA) Musarañas El niño La isla mínima Relatos salvajes BEST SPANISH-LANGUAGE FOREIGN FILM (MEJOR PELÍCULA EXTRANJERA DE HABLA HISPANA) Relatos salvajes (Argentina) Conducta (Cuba) Kaplan (Uruguay) La distancia más larga (Venezuela) HONORARY GOYA Antonio Banderas (Actor, Director, Singer, and Producer)

2016

BEST FILM (MEJOR PELÍCULA) Truman A cambio de nada La novia Nadie quiere la noche (Nobody Wants the Night) Un día perfecto BEST DIRECTOR (MEJOR DIRECTOR) Cesc Gay, Truman Paula Ortiz, La novia Isabel Coixet, Nadie quiere la noche (Nobody Wants the Night) Fernando León de Aranoa, Un día perfecto

528     APPENDIX B

BEST NEW DIRECTOR (MEJOR DIRECTOR NOVEL) Daniel Guzmán, A cambio de nada Dani de la Torre, El desconocido Leticia Dolera, Requisitos para ser una persona normal Juan Miguel del Castillo, Techo y comida BEST ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR PRINCIPAL) Ricardo Darín, Truman Pedro Casablanc, B, la película Luis Tosar, El desconocido Asier Etxeandia, La novia BEST ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ PRINCIPAL) Natalia de Molina, Techo y comida Inma Cuesta, La novia Penélope Cruz, Ma Ma Juliette Binoche, Nadie quiere la noche (Nobody Wants the Night) BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR SECUNDARIO) Javier Cámara, Truman Felipe García Vélez, A cambio de nada Manolo Solo, B, la película Tim Robbins, Un día perfecto BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ SECUNDARIA) Luisa Gavasa, La novia Elvira Mínguez, El desconocido Marian Álvarez, Felices 140 Nora Navas, Felices 140 BEST NEW ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR REVELACIÓN) Miguel Herrán, A cambio de nada Manuel Burque, Requisitos para ser una persona normal Fernando Colomo, Isla bonita Álex García, La novia BEST NEW ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ REVELACIÓN) Irene Escolar, Un otoño sin Berlín Antonia Guzmán, A cambio de nada Iraia Elias, Amama Yordanka Ariosa, El rey de La Habana BEST SCREENPLAY, ORIGINAL (MEJOR GUIÓN ORIGINAL) Cesc Gay and Tomàs Aragay, Truman Daniel Guzmán, A cambio de nada

GOYA AWARDS (PREMIOS GOYA)     529

Alberto Marini, El desconocido Borja Cobeaga, Negociador BEST SCREENPLAY, ADAPTED (MEJOR GUIÓN ADAPTADO) Fernando León de Aranoa, Un día perfecto David Ilundain, B, la película Agustí Villaronga, El rey de la Habana Javier García Arredondo and Paula Ortiz, La novia BEST CINEMATOGRAPHY (MEJOR FOTOGRAFÍA) La novia El rey de La Habana Nadie quiere la noche (Nobody Wants the Night) Un día perfecto BEST COSTUME DESIGN (MEJOR DISEÑO DE VESTUARIO) Nadie quiere la noche (Nobody Wants the Night) Mi gran noche Palmeras en la nieve Un día perfecto BEST SOUND (MEJOR SONIDO) El desconocido Anacleto, agente secreto La novia Mi gran noche BEST EDITING (MEJOR MONTAJE) El desconocido Requisitos para ser una persona normal Truman Un día perfecto BEST SPECIAL EFFECTS (MEJORES EFECTOS ESPECIALES) Anacleto, agente secreto El desconocido Mi gran noche Tiempo sin aire BEST ORIGINAL SCORE (MEJOR MÚSICA) Nadie quiere la noche (Nobody Wants the Night) El teatro del más allá La novia Ma Ma

530     APPENDIX B

BEST ORIGINAL SONG (MEJOR CANCIÓN ORIGINAL) “Palmeras en la nieve,” Palmeras en la nieve “Cómo me mata el tiempo,” Matar el tiempo “So Far and Yet So Close,” El país del miedo “Techo y comida,” Techo y comida BEST PRODUCTION SUPERVISION (MEJOR DIRECCIÓN DE PRODUCCIÓN) Nadie quiere la noche (Nobody Wants the Night) El desconocido Palmeras en la nieve Un día perfecto BEST PRODUCTION DESIGN (MEJOR DIRECCIÓN ARTÍSTICA) Palmeras en la nieve La novia Mi gran noche Nadie quiere la noche (Nobody Wants the Night) BEST MAKEUP AND HAIRSTYLES (MEJOR MAQUILLAJE Y/O PELUQUERÍA) Nadie quiere la noche (Nobody Wants the Night) La novia Ma Ma Palmeras en la nieve BEST SPANISH-LANGUAGE FOREIGN FILM (MEJOR PELÍCULA EXTRANJERA DE HABLA HISPANA) El Clan (Argentina) La once (Chile) Magallanes (Peru) Vestido de novia (Cuba) HONORARY GOYA Mariano Ozores (Director and Screenwriter)

2017

BEST FILM (MEJOR PELÍCULA) Tarde para la ira El hombre de las mil caras Julieta Que Dios nos perdone Un monstruo viene a verme

GOYA AWARDS (PREMIOS GOYA)     531

BEST DIRECTOR (MEJOR DIRECTOR) Juan Antonio Bayona, Un monstruo viene a verme Pedro Almodóvar, Julieta Alberto Rodríguez, El hombre de las mil caras Rodrigo Sorogoyen, Que Dios nos perdone BEST NEW DIRECTOR (MEJOR DIRECTOR NOVEL) Raúl Arévalo, Tarde para la ira Salvador Calvo, 1898: Los últimos de Filipinas Marc Crehuet, El rey tuerto Nely Reguera, María (y los demás) BEST ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR PRINCIPAL) Roberto Álamo, Que Dios nos perdone Luis Callejo, Tarde para la ira Antonio de la Torre, Tarde para la ira Eduard Fernández, El hombre de las mil caras BEST ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ PRINCIPAL) Emma Suárez, Julieta Penélope Cruz, La reina de España Bárbara Lennie, María (y los demás) Carmen Machi, La puerta abierta BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR SECUNDARIO) Manolo Solo, Tarde para la ira Karra Elejalde, 100 metros Javier Gutiérrez Álvarez, El olivo Javier Pereira, Que Dios nos perdone BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ SECUNDARIA) Emma Suárez, La próxima piel Terele Pávez, La puerta abierta Candela Peña, Kiki, el amor se hace Sigourney Weaver, Un monstruo viene a verme BEST NEW ACTOR (MEJOR ACTOR REVELACIÓN) Carlos Santos, El hombre de las mil caras Rodrigo de la Serna, Cien años de perdón Ricardo Gómez, 1898: Los últimos de Filipinas Raúl Jiménez, Tarde para la ira BEST NEW ACTRESS (MEJOR ACTRIZ REVELACIÓN) Anna Castillo, El olivo Belén Cuesta, Kiki, el amor se hace

532     APPENDIX B

Ruth Díaz, Tarde para la ira Silvia Pérez Cruz, Cerca de tu casa BEST SCREENPLAY, ORIGINAL (MEJOR GUIÓN ORIGINAL) Raúl Arévalo, David Pulido, Tarde para la ira Jorge Guerricaechevarría, Cien años de perdón Paul Laverty, El olivo Isabel Peña and Rodrigo Sorogoyen, Que Dios nos perdone BEST SCREENPLAY, ADAPTED (MEJOR GUIÓN ADAPTADO) Alberto Rodríguez, El hombre de las mil caras Pedro Almodóvar, Julieta Paco León and Fernando Pérez, Kiki, el amor se hace Patrick Ness, Un monstruo viene a verme BEST CINEMATOGRAPHY (MEJOR FOTOGRAFÍA) Un monstruo viene a verme 1898: Los últimos de Filipinas La reina de España Tarde para la ira BEST COSTUME DESIGN (MEJOR DISEÑO DE VESTUARIO) 1898: Los últimos de Filipinas La reina de España No culpes al karma de lo que te pasa por gilipollas Tarde para la ira BEST SOUND (MEJOR SONIDO) Un monstruo viene a verme 1898: Los últimos de Filipinas El hombre de las mil caras Ozzy BEST EDITING (MEJOR MONTAJE) Un monstruo viene a verme El hombre de las mil caras Que Dios nos perdone Tarde para la ira BEST SPECIAL EFFECTS (MEJORES EFECTOS ESPECIALES) Un monstruo viene a verme 1898: Los últimos de Filipinas Gernika Julieta

GOYA AWARDS (PREMIOS GOYA)     533

BEST ORIGINAL SCORE (MEJOR MÚSICA) Un monstruo viene a verme El hombre de las mil caras El olivo Julieta BEST ORIGINAL SONG (MEJOR CANCIÓN ORIGINAL) “Ai, ai, ai,” Cerca de tu casa “Descubriendo India,” Bollywood Made in Spain “Muerte,” Frágil equilibrio “KIKI—Mr. K! feat. Nita,” Kiki, el amor se hace BEST PRODUCTION SUPERVISION (MEJOR DIRECCIÓN DE PRODUCCIÓN) Un monstruo viene a verme 1898: Los últimos de Filipinas El hombre de las mil caras La reina de España BEST PRODUCTION DESIGN (MEJOR DIRECCIÓN ARTÍSTICA) Un monstruo viene a verme 1898: Los últimos de Filipinas El hombre de las mil caras La reina de España BEST MAKEUP AND HAIRSTYLES (MEJOR MAQUILLAJE Y/O PELUQUERÍA) Un monstruo viene a verme 1898: Los últimos de Filipinas El hombre de las mil caras Julieta BEST SPANISH-LANGUAGE FOREIGN FILM (MEJOR PELÍCULA EXTRANJERA DE HABLA HISPANA) El ciudadano ilustre (Argentina) Anna (Colombia) Desde allá (Venezuela) Las elegidas (Mexico) HONORARY GOYA Ana Belén (Actress)

Index A mi madre le gustan las mujeres (My Mother Likes Women), 1–3 Abades, Reyes, 230, 306, 395 Los abrazos rotos (Broken Embraces), 3–5 Abre los ojos (Open Your Eyes), 5–8 Abril, Victoria, 26, 40, 41, 42, 59, 102, 134–35, 221, 277, 343, 346–47, 359, 414–15, 438, 443, 445, 447, 450, 453, 455. 465, 482, 492 Acción mutante (Mutant Action), 9–10 Ágora (AGORA), 10–13 Aguayo, José F., 444 Aguilar, Santiago, 462 Los aires difíciles (Rough Winds), 13–15 Alatriste, 15–18 Álamo, Jorge R. del, 448 Álamo, Roberto, 178, 306, 520, 529 Alarcón, Enrique, 455 Albacete, Alfonso, 467 Albaladejo, Miguel, 472, 476 Albornoz, Nicolás Sánchez, 32, 473 Alcoriza, Luis, 453 Algora, Francisco, 55, 196, 473 Almarcha, Sonia, 21 Almodóvar, Pedro, xv, 3, 5, 25, 30–31, 37, 40, 42, 90, 103, 162, 165, 189, 191, 220, 223, 228, 229, 237, 249, 250, 256, 257, 258, 264, 274, 275, 306, 307, 316, 321, 359, 360, 372–73, 401, 405, 407, 414–17, 430, 432–33, 434, 447, 453, 464, 475, 476, 485, 486, 491, 498, 499, 508, 513, 515, 529, 530 Alonso, David, 470 Alonso, Rafael, 102, 145, 475 El alquimista impaciente (The Impatient Alchemist), 18–20 Alterio, Ernesto, 32, 478, 488 Alterio, Héctor, 39, 110, 184, 315, 491 Amado, Chisco, 2, 141, 224 Amador (Amador), 20–22 El amante bilingüe (The Bilingual Lover), 22–25 Amantes (Lovers), 25–28 Los amantes del círculo polar (Lover of the Artic Circle), 28–30

Los amantes pasajeros (I’m So Excited!), 30–32 Amenábar, Alejandro, xv, 5, 7, 8, 10–13, 236, 259, 260, 261, 288, 294, 337, 328, 369, 416–17, 467–68, 472–73, 482–83, 491–92, 507–8 Ammann, Alberto, 98, 99, 243, 508 Amo, Álvaro del, 25, 247, 455 Anaya, Elena, 17, 187, 188, 190, 245, 306, 435, 482, 511, 514, 523 Andersen, Bibí, 221, 238 Andreu, Cristina, 450 Anduix, Marina, 253 Angulo, Álex, 2, 9, 123, 124, 231, 244, 344, 464 Los años bárbaros (The Stolen Years), 32–33 Antuña, Eduardo, 104 Aparicio, Rafaela, 357, 446, 450 Aragay, Tomás, 140, 224, 392, 428, 479, 489, 527 Aragón, Manuel Gutiérrez, 73, 77, 118, 169, 170, 247, 448, 476, 486 Aranda, Vicente, xv, 22, 24–25, 27, 46, 215, 216, 240, 241, 342, 346, 414, 417–18, 438, 445, 448–49, 451, 455, 459, 460, 462–63, 482 Aranoa, Fernando León de, 20, 22, 54, 56, 125, 127, 156, 248, 249, 250, 418, 419, 470, 472, 473, 485, 486, 527 Ardavín, César Fernández, 134 La ardilla roja (The Red Squirrel), 33–35 Areces, Carlos, 31, 51 Arévalo, Daniel Sánchez, 47, 174, 178, 180, 498, 499, 520, 521 Arévalo, Raúl, 31, 48, 172, 210, 211, 501, 504, 508, 514, 523, 529, 530 Argentina, Imperio, 449 Arias, Imanol, 23, 102, 164, 228, 445, 447, 453, 460 Ariosa, Yordanka, 527 Aristarain, Adolfo, 263, 469, 486 Armendáriz, Montxo, 93, 94, 195, 247, 364, 453, 465, 469, 470, 494, 496 Armero, Álvaro Fernández, 462 535

536     INDEX Armiñán, Jaime de, 465 Arrebato (Rapture), 35–38 Así en el cielo como en la tierra (On Earth as It Is in Heaven), 38–39 Asignatura pendiente (Unfinished Business), 39–40 Asquerino, María, 148, 372, 450 ¡Átame! (Tie Me Up! Tie Me Down!), 40–43 Atkine, Féodor, 360, 412 Atlas de geografía Humana (Atlas of Human Geography), 43–44 ¡Ay, Carmela! (Ay, Carmela!), 44–46 Azcona, Rafael, 44, 46, 56, 72, 99, 103, 145, 172, 196, 236, 271, 377, 398, 445, 453, 458, 460, 468, 472, 476, 483, 505 Azorín, Eloy, 216, 373 Azuloscurocasinegro (Dark Blue Almost Black), 47–48 El baile de la victoria (The Dancer and the Thief), 49–51 Baksht, Jaime, 230 Balda triste de trompeta (The Last Circus), 51–52 Banderas, Antonio, 30, 41, 42, 130, 228, 238, 264, 275, 306, 334, 346, 415, 438, 443, 453, 467, 514, 525 Baquero, Ivana, 229, 230, 498 Barcelona (una mapa) (Barcelona, a map), 53–54 Bardem, Carlos, 99, 508, 520, 521 Bardem, Javier, 60, 61, 65, 91, 127, 137, 213, 214, 249, 250, 251, 259, 260, 377, 419–20, 423, 428, 431, 457, 460, 462, 464, 470, 491, 510 Bardem, Juan Antonio, 1, 485 Bardem, Miguel, 467, 475 Bardem, Pilar, 277, 344, 465, 492 Baró, Albert, 279, 501 Baró, Amparo, 501 Barranco, María, 34, 65, 136, 274, 275, 447, 450, 453, 455, 460 Barrio (Neighborhood), 54–56 Barrios, Carmina, 87, 89, 517 Barroso, Mariano, 459, 521 Bayona, Juan Antonio García, 204, 292, 293, 420, 501, 516, 529 Belle Epoque (Belle Epoca), 56–58 Beltrán, Pedro, 443 Benito, Timy, 55

Benoît, Jean-Louis, 470 Berger, Pablo, 63, 488, 489, 516, 517 Berlanga, Luis García, xv, 103, 145, 271, 377, 298, 445, 459, 460 Bermejo, Alberto, 308 Bermejo, Luis, 253, 505, 523 Betancor, Antonio José, 473 Las bicicletas son para el verano (Bicycles are for the Summer), 58–60 Biutiful (Biutiful), 60–63 Blancanieves (Snow White), 63–64 Blanco, Uxía, 236 Blasco, Txema, 299, 395 Boca a boca (Mouth to Mouth), 65–67 Bodas de sangre (Blood Wedding), 67–70 Bodelón, Carlos, 243 Bohollo, José Ángel, 459
 El bola (Bullet), 70–72 Bollaín, Icíar, xv, 166, 218, 250, 267, 268, 269, 270, 356, 361, 368, 421, 422, 439, 440, 463, 446, 479, 488, 489, 501, 502, 510, 514 Borau, José Luis, 73, 169, 170, 171, 421, 443, 478 El bosque animado (The Enchanted Forest), 72–73 Botet, Javier, 35, 327 Botto, Juan Diego, 100, 195, 263, 309, 311, 350, 351, 376, 400, 401, 443, 465, 476, 479, 492, 488, 498, 514, 520 Botto, María, 54, 302, 384, 476, 489 Bouchaib, Hanaa, 61 Bouquet, Carole, 147, 148 Braga, Sonia, 243 Briski, Norman, 139 Las brujas de Zugarramurdi (Witching & Bitching), 73–76 Buale, Emilio, 468 Buñuel, Luis, 3, 113, 147, 148, 149, 150, 170, 173, 250, 415 Burrell, Everett, 230 Caba, Emilio Gutiérrez, 66, 103, 104, 317, 374, 479, 482, 501 Caba, Irene Gutiérrez, 445 Caba, Julia Gutiérrez, 288, 470 Caballero, Eugenio, 229, 230 El caballero Don Quijote (Don Quixote, Knight Errant), 77–79 Cabezas, Críspulo, 55 Cacho, Daniel Giménez, 63, 257, 278, 517

INDEX     537 Calot, Juan, 400 Calvo, Eduardo, 335, 353 Camacho, Manuel, 511 Camacho, Nerea, 79, 80, 505 Cámara, Fernando, 470 Cámara, Javier, 30, 31, 172, 189, 190, 246, 374, 376, 392, 402, 404, 470, 473, 485, 488, 495, 504, 520, 526 Camino (Camino), 79–82 Camus, Albert, 86 Camus, Mario, 73, 94, 95, 96, 101, 103, 247, 412, 421–22, 456, 460, 468, 492, 513 Canals, Cuca, 213, 369, 458, 470 Canción de Cuna (Cradle Song), 82–83 Caníbal (Cannibal), 84–85 Caracremada (Caracremada), 85–87 Carbonell, Pablo, 479 Cárdenas, Pilar, 69 Carmina o revienta (Carmina or Blow Up), 87–89 Carmina y amén (Carmina and Amen), 89–90 Carmona, Amara, 465 Carne Trémula (Live Fish), 90–93 Carré, Héctor, 462 Carreño, José María, 453 Carretero, Manolo, 306 Carrière, Jean-Claude, 147, 517 Carrillo, Mary, 467 Las cartas de Alou (Letter from Alou), 93–94 La casa de Bernarda Alba (The House of Bernarda Alba), 94–96 Casanova, Álex, 142 Casaus, Paco, 87, 88, 89 Castillos de Cartón (3some), 96–98 Castro, Fidel, 337 Castro, Gabriel, 448 Castro, Gonzalo de, 374, 502 Castro, Jesús, 281, 523 Castro, Pilar, 175, 435, 508 Cayo, Fernando, 121, 302, 400 Celda 211 (Cell 211), 98–99 La Celestina (Celestina), 99–101 Cepeda, Laura, 447 Cervino, José Manuel, 110, 380, 445, 501 Chaplin, Geraldine, 107, 139, 141, 191, 438, 485, 501 Chávarri, Jaime, 46, 58, 59, 121, 315, 450, 478, 492

Ciges, Luis, 228, 319, 465 Clavijo, Víctor, 78, 489 Clement, Aurora, 356 Clement, Christina, 514 Clement, Joaquín, 193 Clement, Jorge, 51 Cobos, Rafael, 180, 210, 347, 495, 508, 517, 524 Coixet, Isabel, 105, 106, 107, 168, 270, 271, 401, 402, 403, 422–23, 450, 468, 488, 489, 494, 495, 526 La colmena (The Beehive), 101–3 Colomo, Fernando, 32, 315, 450, 451, 473, 527 Comas, Marina, 279, 296, 297, 511 La communidad (Common Wealth), 103–4 El concursante (The Contestant), 104–5 Cordero, Mariana, 374 Cornejo, Carlos A., 448 Cornet, Jan, 306, 514 Cosas que nunca te dije (Things I Never Told You), 105–7 Cría cuervos (Raise Ravens Ravens), 107–9 El crimen de Cuenca (The Cuenca Crime), 109–12 Crimen ferpecto (The Perfect Crime), 112–14 Los cronocríimenes (Timescrimes), 114–18 Cruz, Ángel de la, 514 Cruz, Juan, 262, 494 Cruz, Penélope, xv, 3, 6, 30, 57, 90, 91, 100, 213, 214, 373, 405, 406, 415, 420, 422, 423, 431, 433, 438, 440, 457, 472, 492, 498, 505, 507, 526, 529 Cruz, Silvia Pérez, 530 Cuando vuelvas a mi lado (By My Side Again), 118–19 Cuenca, Luis, 200, 377, 467, 479 Cuenca, Manuel Martín, 440 Cuerda, José Luis, 38, 39, 103, 137, 172, 173, 236, 248, 262, 424, 450, 475, 499, 504 Darín, Ricardo, 49, 137, 138, 330, 392, 507, 508, 523, 526 Darmon, Gérard, 369 Derqui, Pablo, 53, 288 Delgado, Fernando, 280 Delgado, Gabriel, 74 Delgado, Paco, 75, 306 Delgado, Teté, 175

538     INDEX El Desconocido (Retribution), 120–21 El Desencanto (The Disenchantment), 121–22 El día de la bestia (The Day of the Beast), 123–24 Un día perfecto (A Perfect Day), 125–27 Días contados (Running out of Time), 125–26 Dibildos, José Luis, 101, 481 Diego, Gabino, 38, 46, 57, 59, 60, 200, 303, 338, 453, 455, 457, 462, 472 Díez, Ana, 450 10.000 km (10,000 KM), 128–30, 523, 524 ¡Dispara! (Outrage!), 130–31 El disputado voto del Señor Cayo (Mr. Cayo’s Contested Vote), 131–32 D’Ocón, María Fernanda, 447 Don Quixote de Orson Welles (Orson Welles’ Don Quixote), 132–34 Doña Perfecta (Doña Perfecta), 134–35 Drove, Antonio, 448 Durán, Biel, 96, 97, 369, 482 Echanove, Juan, 32, 163, 445, 450, 453, 460, 498 Las edades de Lulú (The Ages of Lulu), 136–37 La educación de las hadas (The Education of Fairies), 137–38 Egea, Miguel Ángel, 473 Elejalde, Israel, 255 Elejalde, Karra, 62, 114, 115, 235, 252, 361, 396, 511, 523, 529 Elias, Carme, 14, 162, 309, 504 Elias, Iraia, 527 Elisa, vida mía (Elisa, My Life), 139–40 En la ciudad (In the City), 140–41 En la ciudad sin límites (The City with No Limits), 141–42 Enterrado (Buried), 142–45 Erburu, Andoni, 470 Escolar, Irene, 527 La escopeta nacional (The National Shotgun), 145–47 Escrivá, Clara Pérez, 483 Ese oscuro objeto del deseo (That Obscure Object of Desire), 147–50 El espinazo del diablo (The Devil’s Backbone), 150–52 Espert, Núria, 53 Esquilache (Esquilache), 152–54

La estanquera de Vallecas (The Tobacconist from Vallecas), 154–55 Esteban, José Ángel, 32, 473, 492 Estrella, Guillermo, 61 Esteve, María, 473, 485 Etura, Marta, 47, 98, 381, 388, 486, 495, 498, 508 Fausto 5.0 (Faust 5.0), 156–57 Feder, Frédérique, 9 Fejerman, Daniela, 1, 485 Felices 140 (Happy 140), 157–58 Fernández, Adolfo, 190 Fernández, Álex García, 340, 527 Fernández, Ana, 142, 352, 479, 485 Fernández, Ángel Luis, 415 Fernández, Candela, 114, 115, 116 Fernández, Dafne, 176 Fernández, Eduard, 61, 154, 156, 158, 282, 306, 387, 392, 476, 482, 488, 491, 495, 511, 520, 523, 529 Fernández, Miguel, 159, 178, 508 Fernández, Nacho, 381 Fernández, Tom, 374, 501 Fernández, Rogelio, 404 Fernández, Veronica, 70 Fernán-Gómez, Fernando, 38, 57, 59, 141, 152, 173, 234, 236, 272, 311, 334, 372, 425–26, 441, 443, 449, 450, 451, 457, 472, 476, 479 Fernán-Gómez, Helena, 37 Ferrandis, Antonio, 145, 408, 447 Ferreira, Patricia, 18, 19, 20, 278, 279, 309, 278, 279, 309, 426, 478 Fin (The End), 158–62 La flor de mi secreto (The Flower of My Secret), 162–65 Flores de otro mundo (Flower from Another World), 166–68 Flórez, Wenceslao Fernández, 72, 424 Fontserè, Ramón, 342, 351, 387, 404 Forqué, José María, 70, 75, 243, 300, 351, 464 Forqué, Verónica, 183, 272, 300, 312, 316, 317, 438, 443, 445, 450, 460 Franco, Francisco, xiii, xv, xvi, 32, 39, 40, 44, 45, 46, 52, 60, 85, 86, 87, 102, 108, 109, 111, 121, 122, 128, 131–33, 139, 142, 145, 147, 151, 152, 153, 167, 169, 170, 172–73, 196, 210, 211, 213, 229, 231, 233, 234, 236, 241, 247, 248, 256,

INDEX     539 258, 262, 272, 290, 295, 316, 320, 350, 367, 369, 376, 377, 380, 381, 390, 391, 400, 404, 405, 407, 408, 410, 411, 415, 425, 436, 437, 438, 439, 441, 447, 469, 470 Franco, Jesús, 507 Franco, Ricardo, 457, 469, 470 Función de noche (Evening Performance), 168–69 Furtivos (Poachers), 169–71 Gabella, Ion, 9 Gabriel, Ruth, 127, 462 Gades, Antonio, 67, 68, 69 Gago, Nuria, 192, 193, 492 Galiardo, Juan Luis, 77, 78, 131, 234, 450, 479, 485 Galter, Lluís, 85 Gálvez, Paulina, 470 Gandul, Francisco Pérez, 434 Garcés, Iñigo, 151 Garci, José Luis, 82, 280, 281, 372, 408, 409, 425, 445, 462, 463, 472, 473, 475 García, Saturnino, 9, 462 García, Victoriano López, 452 Garcíadiego, Paz Alicia, 476 Garrido, Antonio, 159 Garrido, Aura, 309, 354, 511, 520 Garrido, Diego, 190 Gautier, Fanny, 374 Gay, Cesc, 140, 224, 392, 428, 478, 479, 488, 489, 526, 527 Gaztambide, Michel, 283, 295, 458, 514 Gil, Ariadna, 17, 49, 50, 57, 230, 240, 241, 303, 304, 351, 457, 465, 476, 488, 498, 504 Gil, David, 10 Gil, Marta, 208 Gil, Mateo, 5, 259, 417, 473, 475, 492, 495, 508, 513 Gil, Vicente, 326 Los Girasoles Ciegos (The Blind Sunflowers), 172–73 Gómez, Carmelo, 127, 350, 351, 371, 395, 396, 462, 467, 479, 495 Gómez, José Luis, 342, 447, 488 González, Agustín, 59, 235, 272, 299, 372, 409, 443, 445, 462, 473 González-Sinde, Ángeles, 13, 324, 470, 488, 505 Gordos (Fat People), 174–76

Goya en Burdeos (Goya in Bordeaux), 176–78 Gracia, Sancho, 104, 247, 485 Graells, Guillem-Jordi, 460 La gran familia Española (Family United), 178–80 Grandes, Almudena, 13, 14, 43, 44, 96, 136, 453 Grupo 7 (Unit 7), 180–82 Gubern, Román, 417, 477 La Guerra de papá (Daddy’s War), 182–84 Guerricaechevarría, Jorge, 9, 73, 90, 98, 103, 112, 123, 158, 281, 429, 465, 479, 505, 508, 518, 524, 530 Guillén, Cayetana, 393, 472 Guillén, Fernando, 9, 65, 137, 274, 285, 313, 450, 455, 465, 495 Gullón, Javier, 518 Gurruchaga, Javier, 317, 346, 455, 460 Gutiérrez, Arturo Pérez-Reverte, 15, 16, 17 Gutiérrez, Chus, 168, 457, 505 Gutiérrez, Javier, 120, 210, 211, 390, 523, 529 Gutiérrez, Pedro Juan, 336, 337 Gutiérrez, Pelayo, 306 Gutiérrez, Quim, 47, 178, 385, 388, 498 Gutiérrez, Unax Ugalde, 17 Guzmán, Antonia, 527 Habana Blues (Havana Blues), 185–87 Habitación en Roma (Room in Rome), 187–89 Hable con ella (Talk to Her), 189–91 Héctor (Hector), 192–93 Hermosa Juventud (Beautiful Youth), 193–94 Hernández, Alejandro, 84, 521 Hernández, Antonio, 141, 485, 486 Hernández, Francisco, 366 Hernández, Gustau, 393 Hernández, Martín, 230 Hernández, Rafael, 398 Hernández, Tatiana, 343 Hernández, Yalitza, 375 Herralde, Gonzalo, 460 Herte, Manuel, 450 Hidalgo, Manuel, 480 Historias del Kronen (Stories from the Kronen), 195–96 Holland, Tom, 204, 517

540     INDEX Un hombre llamado flor de otoño (A Man Called Autumn Flower), 196–97 Honor de cavalleria / Honor de Caballerìa (Honor of the Knights of Quixotic), 198–99 Hoogers, Ramón Salazar, 518 La hora de los valientes (A Time for Defiance), 200–201 Las horas del día (The Hours of the Day), 201–3 Hoyos, Christina, 68, 69 Huerga, Manuel, 464, 498 Iborra, Juan Luis, 465 Iborra, Manuel, 463 Iglesia, Álex de la, 9, 51, 103, 112, 123, 478, 504, 511 Iglesia, Eloy de la, 429 Iglesias, Alberto, 30, 189, 245, 306, 395, 405, 415 Iglesias, Carlos, 77, 78, 390, 486, 498 Iglesias, Lorena, 255 Lo imposible (The Impossible), 204–5, 518, 519 Inconscientes (Unconscious), 205–8 Intacto (Intact), 208–10 Irastorza, Edward, 230 Irazábal, Lázaro, 450 Isasi-Isasmendi, Antonio, 434, 448, 478 La isla mínima (Marshland), 210–12 Jacob, Irene, 137, 138 Jamón, jamón (Jamon, Jamon), 213–15 Jiménez, Alberto, 44 Jiménez, Enrique, 18, 19 Jiménez, Juan Antonio, 68, 69 Jiménez, Lucia, 468 Jiménez, Raúl, 530 Jones, Doug, 230, 231 Jordà, Joaquim, 448 Juana la loca (Mad Love), 215–17 Katmandú, un espejo en el cielo (Katmandu Lullaby), 218–20 Kika (Kika), 220–23 Krámpack (Nico and Dani), 224–27 Laberinto de pasiones (Labyrinth of Passion), 228–29 El laberinto del Fauno (Pan’s Labyrinth), 229–32

Ladoire, Óscar, 136, 290, 300, 462 Lampreave, Chus, 57, 163, 317,377, 406, 415, 430–31, 443, 447, 450, 458, 456, 517 Landa, Alfredo, 72, 82, 103, 262, 372, 398, 445, 447, 450, 457, 462, 488, 501, 504 El lápiz del carpintero (The Carpenter’s Pencil), 232–34 Larrañaga, Carlos, 501 Larraya, Federico G., 467 Larreta, Antonio, 94, 95, 450, 458 Lázaro, Emilio Martínez, 303, 304, 380, 437, 441, 443, 485, 501 Lázaro de Tormes (Lazaro of Tormes), 234–35 Lazcano, Arantxa, 459 Leblanc, Tony, 377, 461, 473 La lengua de las mariposas (Butterfly’s Tongue), 236–37 León, Loles, 24, 42, 240, 453, 467, 473 La ley del deseo (The Law of Desire), 237–40 Lennie, Bárbara, 253, 254, 282, 307, 495, 523, 529 Liaño, Carmen, 367 Libertarias (Freedom Fighters), 240–42 Lope (Lope: The Outlaw), 242–45 López, Ángel de Andrés, 447 López, Carlos, 492 López, Charo, 311, 352, 453, 470 López, Pilar, 514 López, Sergi, 229, 230, 296, 482, 498, 511 Lucía y el sexo (Sex and Lucia), 245–47 Luna, Josep Joan Bigas, 213, 367, 431, 432, 445, 453, 457, 470 Luna de lobos (Wolves’ Moon), 247–48 Los lunes al sol (Mondays in the Sun), 248–51 Luppi, Federico, 151, 263, 277, 464, 465 Macarrón, César, 243 Macías, Belén, 504 Macías, Juana, 308, 309, 510 La madre muerta (The Dead Mother), 252–53 Magical Girl (Magical Girl), 253–56 Mahieu, José A., 448 La mala educación (Bad Education), 256–59 Malla, Coque, 462 Malvido, Gonzalo Torrente, 338, 456

INDEX     541 Mañas, Jose Ángel, 195, 465, 479 Manquiña, Manuel, 233, 470 Mánve, Kiti, 78, 247, 290, 300, 317, 455 Mar adentro (The Sea Inside), 259–61 Marco, Lluís, 400, 411 Marías, Luis, 455 Marín, Adrián, 310 Marín, María del Carmen, 437 La marrana (The Sow), 262–63 Marsillach, Adolfo, 450, 458 Martín (Hache) (Martin H), 263–64 Martinez, Fele, 6, 28, 29, 254, 255, 256, 468 Marull, Laia, 368, 479, 488, 511 Massé, Xavier, 369 Matador (Matador), 264–67 Mataharis (Mataharis), 267–70 Matji, Manolo, 131, 445, 451, 453 Maura, Carmen, 45, 46, 74, 75, 103, 238, 267, 274, 315, 316, 405, 406, 415, 429, 431, 432–33, 447, 453, 460, 476, 479, 498 May, Mathilda, 369 McGregor, Ewan, 204, 517 Medem, Julio, 28, 33, 34, 35, 187, 245, 370, 371, 395, 423, 428, 440, 457, 458, 465, 473, 482, 483, 511 Menkes, David, 467 Mercero, Antonio, 282, 200, 320, 427, 447, 510 Merinero, Carlos Pérez, 25, 455 Mestres, Isabel, 139 Meyjes, Menno, 451 Mi vida sin mí (My Life without Me), 270–71 Mínguez, Elvira, 121, 262, 462, 495, 505, 526 Miró, Asha, 323 Miró, Kira, 112 Miró, Pilar, 109, 111, 275, 311, 412, 433, 443, 455, 456, 467, 468 Miró, Toni, 373 Moleón, Rafael, 447 Molina, Alfred, 271 Molina, Ángela, 64, 92, 147, 148, 443, 447, 450, 451, 470, 517 Molina, Antonio Muñoz, 311, 312 Molina, Josephina, 152, 153, 168, 449, 516 Molina, Juan Ramón, 75 Molina, Miguel, 238 Molina, Monica, 39

Molina, Natalia de, 404, 520, 526 Mollà, Jordi, 32, 100, 195, 213, 214, 393, 431, 467, 470, 476, 507 Monner, Álex, 278, 279, 426, 517 Montalbán, Manuel Vázquez, 367, 368, 458 Montesinos, Guillermo, 110, 339, 447 Monzón, Daniel, 98, 204, 281, 434, 440, 478, 507, 508, 523, 524 Moros y Cristianos (Moors and Cristianos), 271–72 Mortenson, Viggo, 16, 498 El muerto y ser feliz (The Dead Man and Being Happy), 273–74 Mujeres al borde de un ataque de nervios (Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown), 274–76 Munt, Silvia, 455, 462 Mur, Nilo, 96, 97, 492 Muro, Marta Fernández, 36, 228, 315 Nadie hablará de nosotros cuando hayamos muerto (Nobody Will Speak of Us When We’re Dead), 277–78 Narros, Miguel, 320 Els nens salvatges / Los niños salvajes (The Wild Ones), 278–79 Nieto, Pepón, 74, 286, 462 Nimri, Najwa, 6, 28, 29, 156, 188, 245, 269, 472, 482 Ninette (Ninette), 280–81 El niño (The Kid), 281–82 No habrá paz para los malvados (No Rest for the Wicked), 283–85 Noriega, Eduardo, 6, 7, 16, 151, 393, 472, 491 Noronha, Rodrigo de, 243 Novella, Toni, 243, 306, 405 Los novios Búlgaros (Bulgarian Lovers), 285–87 Novo, Nancho, 33, 100, 233, 467 Ocampo, Isabel de, 517 Los ojos de Julia (Julia’s Eyes), 288–89 Olea, Pedro, 196, 457, 458 Oliva, Pepo, 193 Ópera prima (Opera Prima), 290–92 Ordaz, Isabel, 470 El Orfanato (The Orphanage), 292–94 Oristrel, Joaquín, 65, 152, 205, 312, 451, 463, 465, 483, 492

542     INDEX Orozco, Marieta, 55, 224, 225, 273 Ortega, Rosario García, 95 Oti, Manuel Mur, 459 Los otros (The Others), 294–95 Ozores, Adriana, 118, 192, 200, 311, 473, 476, 479, 485, 488, 495 Pa negre / Pan negro (Black Bread), 296–97 Pacto de brujas (Witchery Deal), 300–301 Pagafantas (Friend Zone), 298–99 Pajarés, Andres, 46, 272, 453 Palma, Rossy de, 163, 221, 275, 460, 465 Paredes, Marisa, 59, 151, 162, 163, 290, 306, 359, 434–35, 445, 465 París, Inés, 1, 168, 485 Pastor, Rosana, 465, 482, 505 Paulo, Oriol, 288, 517 Pávez, Terele, 74, 75, 100, 104, 367, 445, 447, 479, 511, 520, 529 Peña, Candela, 101, 125, 375, 392–93, 435, 462, 476, 485, 495, 517, 530 Peña, Chema de la, 400 El penalti más largo del mundo (The Longest Penalty Shot in the World), 301–3 Peñalver, Diana, 82 Los peores años de nuestra vida (The Worst Years of Our lives), 303–4 Peralta, Claudio, 243 Pérez, Benito, 427 Pérez, Boira, 258 Pérez, Conchita, 109 Pérez, Dionisio, 505 Pérez, José Luis García, 14, 143, 193, 492 Pérez, Nacho, 257 Pérez, Rafael, 468 Pérez, Rosie, 428 Periñán, Paco, 453 Picazo, Miguel, 414, 469 El pico (Overdose), 304–5 Piedra, Emiliano, 457 La piel que habito (The Skin I Live In), 305–7 Piñeiro, Carlos, 218 La plaga (The Plague), 308 Planes para mañana (Plans for Tomorrow), 308–10 Plenilunio (Plenilune), 311–12 Poncela, Eusebio, 35, 208, 238, 263, 265, 412, 482

Pons, Ventura, 53, 435–37, 465, 470, 483, 502 Ponte, María Luisa, 83, 443, 462 ¿Por qué lo llaman amor cuando quieren decir sexo? (Why Do They Call It Love When They Mean Sex?), 312–14 Portillo, Blanca, 3, 406, 470, 498, 501 Porto, Juan Antonio, 298, 456 Potau, Joan, 338, 456 Pou, José María, 475 Poveda, Miguel, 369 Prada, Francisco, 458 Los Premios Goya, 32, 47, 49, 53, 55, 63, 70, 77, 82, 84, 103, 120, 125, 141, 154, 156, 174, 180, 193, 200, 243, 273, 277, 380, 386, 404, 410, 418, 419, 434, 441, 443–533 ¿Qué hace una chica como tú en un sitio como éste? (What’s a Girl Like You Doing in a Place Like This?), 315–16 ¿Qué hecho you para merecer esto? (What Have I Done to Deserve This?), 316–18 Querejeta, Elías, 121, 357, 476 Querejeta, Gracia, 118, 157, 192, 320, 321, 437, 475, 501, 502, 520 Quetglás, José, 230 ¿Quién puede matar a un niño? (Who Can Kill a Child?), 318–20 15 años y un día (15 Years and One Day), 320–22 Rabal, Francisco, 38, 42, 103, 131, 177, 178, 334, 453, 475 Rabal, Liberto, 468 Ramallo, Fernando, 224, 470 Ramírez, Mary Carmen, 58, 458 Ramos, Santiago, 247, 272, 398, 399, 467 Ramos, Yolanda, 89, 524 Rastres de sandal / Rastros de sándalo (Traces of Sandalwood), 323 Las razones de mis amigos (Friends Have Reasons), 324–25 [Rec] (REC), 325–27 Regresión (Regression), 327–29 Regueiro, Francisco, 447, 460 Relatos salvajes (Wild Tales), 329–31 Rellán, Miguel Ángel, 365, 443 Remando al viento (Rowing with the Wind), 331–33

INDEX     543 Resines, Antonio, 9, 99, 247, 262, 290, 470, 472, 508 Réquiem por un campesino Español (Requiem for a Spanish Peasant), 333–36 Rey, Bárbara, 145 Rey, Fernando, 110, 111, 139, 147, 148, 447 El rey de la Habana (The King of Havana), 336–38 El rey pasmado (The Dumbounded King), 338–39 Reynolds, Ryan, 143, 510 Ribé, Montse, 190, 230 Rico, Antonio Giménez, 448 Rico-Godoy, Carmen, 456 Ríos, Teodoro, 450 Ríos, Santiago, 450 Ripoll, María, 323, 475 Rivelles, Amparo, 443, 450 Rochefort, Jean, 517 Ros, Mireia, 470 Rotaeta, Félix, 110, 313, 448 Roth, Cecilia, 30, 35, 36, 373, 470, 476 Rueda, Belén, 259, 288, 289, 292, 492, 501, 511 Rubio, Ingrid, 19, 468, Ruiz, Pedro, 272, 409, 445 Ruiz, Salvador García, 473, 480s Sacristán, José, 39, 101, 102, 196, 253, 273, 517, 523 Sámano, José, 152, 451 Sampietro, Mercedes, 118, 205, 412, 476, 485, 492 Sánchez, Alfonso, 181 Sánchez, Alicia, 38, 55, 169, 473 Sánchez, Ane, 396 Sánchez, Blanca, 230 Sánchez, Eleuterio, 448 Sánchez, Genís, 369 Sánchez, Jordi, 141, 224, 428 Sánchez, José Luis García, 56, 450, 458, 460, 468 Sánchez, Laura, 385 Sánchez, Leon, 109, 110, 111 Sánchez, Maite, 108 Sánchez, Sergio Gutiérrez, 158, 204, 292, 293, 502, 517, 518 Sánchez, Susi, 216, 307, 320, 411 Sánchez, Verónica, 380, 489, 495, 508

Sancho, Amàlia, 387 Sancho, José, 91, 167, 344, 470 Sancho, Rodolpho, 298 San Francisco, Enrique, 9, 450, 457 San Juan, Antonia, 373, 476 Santa-Cruz, Bárbara 300 Santos, Ángel Fernández, 460 Santos, Estefanía de los, 517 Sanz, Jorge, 25, 57, 303, 304, 310, 312, 346, 414, 437–38, 443, 447, 450, 455, 457, 473 Sanz, Juan, 342, 489 Sanz, Marco, 120 Sanz, Neus, 407 Saura, Carlos, xv, 44, 46, 67, 69, 70, 107, 130, 131, 139, 170, 176, 178, 262, 342, 369, 433, 437–38, 453, 465, 491 Sazatornil, José, 145, 447 Sbaraglia, Leonardo, 104, 105, 141, 208, 330, 392, 482, 498 Seis puntos sobre emma (Six Points about Emma), 340–42 El 7o día (The 7th Day), 344–46 Serna, Asumpta, 457 Serrano, Julieta, 265, 275, 447, 476 Sexo por compasión (Compassionate Sex), 344–46 Si te dicen que caí (If They Tell You I Fell), 346–47 7 vírgenes (7 Virgins), 347–49 Silencio en la nieve (Frozen Silence), 349–51 Silke, 468 Silva, Claudia, 326 Silva, Hugo, 74, 75 Silva, Lorenzo, 18, 19, 440, 489 Siqueira, Marcelo, 243 Solá, Miguel Ángel, 156, 311, 479 Soldados de Salamina (Soldiers of Salamis), 351–52 Soler, Amparo, 59, 146 Soler, Antonio, 499 Soler, Karmele, 243, 306 Soler, Lluís, 85, 86 Solivellas, Cati, 517 Solier, Magaly, 20, 21 La soledad era esto (This Was Solitude), 352–54 Soriano, José, 447 Stockholm (Stockholm), 354–56 Suárez, Blanca, 306, 514

544     INDEX Suárez, Emma, 33, 34, 78, 371, 395, 396, 460, 467, 501, 511, 529 Suárez, Gonzalo, 247, 317, 331, 333, 447, 463, 480, 502 El sur (The South), 356–58 Taborsky, Miróslav, 473 Tacones lejanos (High Heels), 359–61 Tambien la lluvia (Even the Rain), 361–62 Tamiroff, Akim, 133 Tapas (Tapas), 362–63 Tasio (Tasio), 364–66 Tatuaje (Tattoo), 367–68 Te doy mis ojos (Take My Eyes), 368–69 La teta y la luna (The Tit and the Moon), 369–70 Tielve, Fernando, 151, 341 Tierra (Earth), 370–71 Tiovivo C.1950 (Tiovivo C.1950), 372 Todo sobre mi madre (All about My Mother), 372–74 Toledo, Goya, 120, 382, 473, 514, 523 Toledo, Guillermo, 112, 486, 491 Toledo, Robert, Pérez, 340 Toro, Benicio del, 125, 127, 504 Toro, Guillermo del, 150, 229, 230, 232, 243, 247, 288, 292, 293, 297, 309, 420, 439–40, 498, 499 Torre, Antonio de la, 47, 51, 84, 158, 174, 176, 178, 180, 181, 243, 268, 406, 498, 507, 510, 517, 520, 523, 529 Torre, Dani de la, 120, 440, 526 La torre de suso (Suso’s Tower), 374–75 Torremolinos 73 (Torremolinos 73), 376–77 Torrens, Antònia, 479 Torrent, Ana, 107, 108, 396, 467 Torrent, Ferran, 483 Torrente, el brazo tonto de la ley (Torrente, the Dumb Arm of the Law), 377–78 Torres, Marilyn, 167 Tosar, Luis López, 98, 99, 120, 166, 167, 205, 229, 232, 233, 243, 249, 250, 282, 361, 368, 392, 439–40, 476, 485, 507, 510, 514, 526 Tots volem el millor per a ella / Todos queremos lo mjor para ellas (Puzzlement), 378–80 Tous, Paco, 400 Las 13 rosas (13 Roses), 380–82

Tren de sombras (Train of Shadows), 382–84 3 bodas de más (Three Many Weddings), 384–86 Tres dies amb la famíilia / Tres días con la familia (Three Days with the Family), 386–87 Tristancho, Carlos, 59 Trueba, David, 303, 304, 351, 352, 404, 405, 441–42, 463, 467, 468, 488, 489, 520, 521 Trueba, Fernando, 49, 56, 103, 290, 302, 423, 425, 430, 438, 449, 457, 458, 472, 486, 507, 508, 516, 517 Trueba, Jonás, 510 Trujillo, Martín Macías, 243 Ulloa, Juanma Bajo, 252, 253, 455, 459 Los últimos días (The Last Days), 388–90 Un franco, 14 pesetas (Crossing Borders), 390–91 Ugarte, Adriana, 96, 97, 498 Una pistola en cada mano (A Gun in Each Hand), 392–94 Uriarte, Gonzalo, 400 Uribe, Imanol, 455, 467 Vaca (Cows), 395–97 Vacárcel, Horacio, 447, 473 Valdés, Julio Sánchez, 247 Valdivia, Víctor, 137, 138 La Vaquilla (The Heifer), 398–400 Vea, César, 396 Velasco, Concha, 102, 152, 450, 467, 519 Velasco, Manuela, 238, 325, 502 Velázquez, Antonio, 340 Velázquez, Fernando, 243 Velázquez, Jerónimo, 244 Velázquez, Pilar, 367 Valverde, Fernando, 460 Valverde, Junio, 151 Valverde, Tito, 72, 183, 321, 520 Vega, Pastora, 458 23–F: la película (23–F: The Movie), 400– 401 Venancio, Mariano, 400 Verdú, Maribel, 25, 57, 63, 82, 101, 154, 157, 159, 172, 177, 229, 231, 320, 321, 455, 467, 470, 498, 501, 504, 507, 514 Vergés, José, 183 Vergés, Rosa, 453

INDEX     545 Vermut, Carlos, 253, 523, 524 La vida secreta de las palabras (The Secret Life of Words), 401–3 Vilaplana, Bernat, 230 Vilches, Jordi, 224, 479 Villagrán, Julián, 180, 181, 501, 517 Villalba, Teddy, 500 Villaronga, Agustí, 113, 296, 297, 336, 337, 449, 450, 510, 511, 527 Villaverde, Xavier, 450 Villén, Enrique, 55, 113, 280, 281, 302, 495 Villena, Carmen, 69 Visedo, Irene, 151 Viscarret, Félix, 501, 502 Vivir es fácil con los ojos cerrados (Living Is Easy with Eyes Closed), 404–5 Volver (Volver), 405–8 Volver a empezar (Begin the Beguine), 408–10

La voz dormida (The Sleeping Voice), 410–11 Watling, Leonor, 1, 141, 189, 190, 200, 205, 243, 271, 393, 472, 485 Werther (Werther), 412–13 Wise, Naomi, 65, 465 Yagüe, Virginia, 278, 279, 426 Yánez, Agustín Díaz, 447, 453, 464, 465, 482, 483, 498, 499 Yebra, Eloi, 55 Zabala, Elsa, 146 Zambrano, Benito, 185, 186, 410, 475, 476, 494, 513, 515 Zimmerman, Lydia, 113 Zimmerman, Nilo, 192

About the Editors and Contributors Salvador Jimenez Murguía is associate professor of sociology at Akita International University. His research interests include racism, failure and deviant behavior, and popular culture. He is the editor of The Encyclopedia of Japanese Horror Films and the forthcoming book about prison food, Diets of the Disrepute: Control and Resistance within Prison Dining. Alex Pinar is an assistant professor of intercultural communication and Spanish in undergraduate and graduate programs at Akita International University (Japan). He holds a PhD in applied linguistics and an MA in research in language and literature from the University of Barcelona. He is currently enrolled in a doctoral program in theory of literature and comparative literature, writing a dissertation about world literature adaptations in the Japanese cinema. His research interests are world cinema and literature film adaptations. *** Jorge Abril Sánchez is a lecturer in Spanish at the University of New Hampshire–Durham. He focuses his research on the literature and culture of medieval and early modern Spain, often from a comparative perspective that covers the works of authors on both sides of the Atlantic and the Pacific, and their influence on other neighboring nations. Abril Sánchez is the coeditor of A Novel without Boundaries: Sensing Don Quixote 400 Years Later, and the author of several articles on Cervantes, books of chivalry and war, ekphrastic sexuality and prostitution, and demonolatry and demonology, published in peer-reviewed magazines—such as Celestinesca and Lexis—and in collections of articles edited in prestigious editorials. Francisca Aguiló Mora holds a PhD in romance studies from the University of Miami. Her research interests combine literary analysis, theater and performance studies, and sociolinguistics. She has also developed a line of research in secondlanguage acquisition within the framework of sociocultural theory. These lines of research have led to publications in journals such as CENTRO: Journal of the Center for Puerto Rican Studies and Ciberletras. Francisca is currently a lecturer in Spanish at Columbia University. Alejandra Armendáriz Hernández is a PhD student at University Rey Juan Carlos in Madrid (Spain), currently writing her doctoral dissertation on women filmmakers in Japanese cinema. She graduated with a degree in audiovisual communication from the University of Navarra (Spain) and has studied Japanese language and culture at Ca’ Foscari University of Venice (Italy) and at the Meiji Gakuin University in Tokyo (Japan). Her research interests and publications 547

548    ABOUT THE EDITORS AND CONTRIBUTORS

focus on the study of women filmmakers, gender representations, and popular culture in Japan and in world cinemas. Enrique Ávila López holds a PhD from Durham University (UK), where he specialized in contemporary Spanish literature and cinema. He moved to Mount Royal University (Calgary, Canada) in 2004 as a lecturer in Spanish cultural studies and film. In 2016 he became a full professor of Hispanic studies. He has published over a dozen peer-reviewed articles in academic journals and book chapters, as well as over 15 encyclopedia entries. His first book dealt with the literature of Rosa Regàs, for which he became the winner of the international competition for the Victoria Urbano Monograph Prize of the Asociación Internacional de Literatura y Cultura Femenina Hispánica (United States, AILCFH, 2007). His second book, Modern Spain (2015), contains over 16 chapters and is the perfect companion for any reader wishing to learn more about Spain. Vania Barraza is an associate professor of Spanish at the University of Memphis. Her research interests include 20th- and 21st-century Latin American literature and culture, with special focus on film studies, women’s writing, and gender studies. She is the author of (In)subordinadas: raza, clase y filiación en la narrativa de mujeres latinoamericanas (2010) and several articles on Latin American literature and Chilean cinema. Dr. Barraza is currently preparing a manuscript on contemporary Chilean filmmaking with an emphasis on the so-called Generación 2005. Raluca Bejan is a PhD candidate at the University of Toronto, a book review editor for Transnational Social Review: A Social Work Journal, based in Germany and published by Routledge, and a writer for the alternative Canadian media outlet rabble.ca. Laura Birkin is a graduate student in her final year of studying for her master of arts degree in English at Millersville University in Pennsylvania; she previously attained her bachelor of arts degree in English literature from the University of Sheffield in the United Kingdom. Her research interests include gender and sexuality studies, film adaptation studies, and queer theory, and she is currently writing her thesis on gender and agency in AMC’s The Walking Dead. She has long had an interest in Spanish language and cinema, especially the films of Pedro Almodóvar. Scott Boehm is an assistant professor of 20th–21st-century Spanish and global studies at Michigan State University, where he teaches courses on contemporary Spanish cinema, literature, and culture. While at UC San Diego, Scott helped launch the Spanish Civil War Memory Project, the world’s largest digital archive of survivor testimonies related to that war and the Francoist repression that followed. He also collaborated with the Association for the Recovery of Historical Memory as a fellow of the Human Rights Center at UC Berkeley. Scott has published articles on postdictatorship Spanish cinema, culture, and politics.

ABOUT THE EDITORS AND CONTRIBUTORS     549

Federico Bonaddio is a senior lecturer in modern Spanish studies at King’s College, London. His research interests include Spanish poetry and cinema. He has published essays on the Spanish folkloric film musical, including “Being Good: Manliness and Virtue in Gonzalo Delgrás’s El Cristo de los faroles (1957),” in Post Script: Essays in Film and the Humanities; and “Lola la piconera: Hybridity, Politics, Entertainment,” in Elena Oliete et al. (eds.), Global Genres/Local Films: The Transnational Dimension of Spanish Cinema. He is editor of A Companion to Federico García Lorca (2007) and author of Federico García Lorca: The Poetics of Self-Consciousness (2010). Jennifer Brady (PhD Spanish, Colorado) is an assistant professor of Hispanic studies at the University of Minnesota–Duluth and the managing editor of Hispania, the scholarly journal of the American Association of Teachers of Spanish and Portuguese. Professor Brady’s research interests include gender studies and masculinities in contemporary Spain, doubling and repetition in 20th- and 21stcentury Spanish fiction and film, and modification and illness in physical bodies in Spanish fiction and film. Jennifer coedited the 2014 book Collapse, Catastrophe, and Rediscovery: Spain’s Cultural Panorama in the 21st Century and has published in Cincinnati Romance Review, Letras hispanas, and Ometeca, among other journals and books. Ernest Carranza is a PhD student in Iberian and Latin American literatures and cultures at Ohio State University. His interests include topics such as nationalism and national identity, public intellectuals, and intersections between literature and journalism. One of Ernest’s main issues of inquiry is the representation of national ideologies as reflected in cultural productions of the Iberian Peninsula. His research project addresses divergent representations of Catalonia as a community in fiction and nonfiction texts by contemporary Catalan writers. Prior to entering academia, he worked as a journalist in different media outlets in Catalonia and the Balearic Islands, mostly in newspapers and radio stations. Nancy Carvajal Medina is a Colombian human being under construction. Her ESL/EFL research has focused on critical pedagogy/literacies, discourse analysis, and assessment. She is a Fulbright scholar and PhD candidate at Washington State University. She is an associate editor for TESOL Journal. Her current decolonial research, rooted in Chicana/o Feminism and indigenous epistemologies, aims to deconstruct “the homeless identity” within a US rural context. Her activism has led her to create spaces like “Under the Skin: Dismantling Borders within Borders,” an event in which the politics of identity is explored through arts. For the founder of “Knowledge in Action,” every individual is a door of possibilities. Maribel Cedeño Rojas holds a PhD in audiovisual translation and Hispanic studies from the Ruprecht-Karls-Universität Heidelberg (Germany). Her research and teaching activities focus on literature and audiovisual translation/localization, fantasy and horror cinema in Latin America and Spain, as well as Spanish as a foreign language. In 2015, she edited the dossier El cine fantástico y de terror

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en Hispanoamérica y España and coedited the anthology Lateinamerikanisches Kino der Gegenwart: Themen, Genres-Stile, RegisseurInnen. Jonathan Clark, born in 1986, has lived in Pennsylvania, Ireland, and New Hampshire. After graduating from Saint Bernard’s Central Catholic High School in Fitchburg, Massachusetts, he attended Mount Saint Mary’s University and graduated with a degree in English. Upon being hired in the library at Wilson College, he began work on a master’s in humanities. His thesis is titled “Illegal Lives: The Edwardian Homosexual in E. M. Forster’s and Merchant Ivory’s Howards End, A Room with a View and Maurice,” which focuses on characters never before assessed through scholarship. After completing the degree in 2015, he began work at Harrisburg Area Community College in the library and teaching English courses. Elena Cueto Asín is an associate professor of Hispanic studies at Bowdoin College. She has published articles on modern Spanish literature, film, and television, and the books Autos para siluetas de Valle-Inclán (2005), Reconciliaciones en escena: El teatro de la Guerra Civil (2008), and the forthcoming Guernica o Gernika y Guernica en la escena, en la página en la pantalla. She is also coeditor of Historias de la pequeña pantalla: Representaciones históricas en la televisión de la España democrática (2009). Esteban Devis-Amaya has an interdisciplinary background, with an MSc in global politics from the London School of Economics and a PhD in cultural studies from the University of Southampton. His research is also interdisciplinary, covering areas of politics, sociology, history, cultural, and migration studies. He focuses on multiple ethnic/cultural identities and their spaces of interaction, both within and outside particular communities. His PhD thesis focused on the Colombian-Lebanese community in Bogotá, their flexible identification with their ethnicity, and the interaction of social class. He lives with his wife in the United Kingdom and is a lecturer of Spanish at Oxford Brookes University and coordinator of the Spanish degree modules. Conxita Domènech is an assistant professor at the University of Wyoming. She is also the assistant managing editor of Hispania. Professor Domènech has published two books: La Guerra dels Segadors en comedias y en panfletos ibéricos: Una historia contada a dos voces (1640–1652) and Letras hispánicas en la gran pantalla: De la literatura al cine. She has coedited two collective volumes with Professor Andrés Lema-Hincapié: Pedro Calderón de la Barca’s La vida es sueño: Philosophical Crossroads and Ventura Pons: Una mirada excepcional desde el cine catalán. She has also published more than 20 articles in peer-reviewed journals such as Catalan Review, Cervantes, Romance Quarterly, Hispanófila, Bulletin of the Comediantes, Ometeca, Neophilologus, Caplletra, and Signos Literarios. Mary Kate Donovan is a doctoral candidate in the Department of Hispanic Languages and Literature at Stony Brook University, New York. Her research focuses

ABOUT THE EDITORS AND CONTRIBUTORS     551

on representations of the Chinese in 20th- and 21st-century Spanish literature, film, and popular media. She has taught courses on modern Spanish literature, film, and culture at Stony Brook University and for the University of California’s Education Abroad Program in Madrid. María Adelaida Escobar Trujillo did her doctoral program in Hispanic studies at McGill University. Her research focuses on Spanish cinema and theater, and the connections between both arts. Currently she works at the University of British Columbia as a seasonal Spanish teacher. Santiago Fouz-Hernández is a reader in Hispanic studies at Durham University. He is the author of the book Cuerpos de cine (2013); coauthor of Live Flesh: The Male Body in Contemporary Spanish Cinema (2007); editor of four books, including Spanish Erotic Cinema (2017) and Mysterious Skin: Male Bodies in Contemporary Cinema (2009). He has been a visiting researcher at the Universities of Queensland, CUNY Graduate Center, Harvard, University of California– Berkeley, and Pittsburgh. He is an editorial board member of Studies in Spanish and Latin American Cinemas. He is currently completing a monograph on filmmaker Bigas Luna for Manchester University Press. David García Reyes has a BA in history of art (Complutense University of Madrid) and a master’s in applied research in mass media (Carlos III University, Madrid). He is a PhD candidate in Latin American literature at the University of Concepción, Chile. In his academic and research career, he has shown special interest in the relationship between cinema and other arts, as revealed in his scientific production. His doctoral thesis studies literary translations in Latin American cinema. He collaborates on several research projects in Chile and Spain. David R. George Jr. is a senior lecturer in Spanish in the Department of Spanish at Bates College. He has published articles on historical fiction, travel writing, and early cinema in early 20th-century Spain, and on contemporary film and television in journals and edited volumes. He is coeditor of Historias de la pequeña pantalla. Representaciones históricas en la televisión de la España democrática (2009), and author of annotated editions of Leopoldo Alas’s Doña Berta and Benito Pérez Galdós’s Tormento. His current research explores Spain’s ties to East Asia, particularly to Japan, in the form of cultural exchange and appropriation, literary translation, film adaptation, and travel narrative. John Gilbert is a graduate of Durham University with a particular interest in cinema and the visual arts, as well as the cultures of the Spanish-speaking world and the Far East. His dissertation, “Flickering Images: National Identities in PostTransition Spanish Cinema,” researched questions of iconography, heterogeneity, and contradiction relating to identities in democratic Spain. John currently resides in the United Kingdom but has been lucky enough to travel extensively; he has lived in Seville and Hangzhou, studying for fluency in four languages and pursuing his research interests.

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María Asunción Gómez is a professor of Spanish at Florida International University. She holds a PhD in Spanish from Rutgers, the State University of New Jersey. Her research interests cover a broad range of topics in modern Hispanic literatures, popular culture, gender, and film studies. The focus of her publications is the representation of gender and the body, motherhood, gender violence, myth and feminism, gender identity and performance, and issues related to film spectatorship. She has published two books—Del escenario a la pantalla: La adaptación cinematográfica del teatro español (2000) and La madre muerta: mito y matricidio en la literatura y el cine españoles (2016)—and has coedited The Modern Spain Sourcebook: History and Myth of the Mad Queen: Modern Representations of Juana of Castile (2008) and A Cultural History from 1600 to the Present (2017). Teresa M. Greppi is currently a PhD student in 19th- and 20th-century Iberian Spanish literature and culture at the University of Illinois at Urbana–Champaign, where she also completed her MA (2014). She holds a BA from Trinity University in San Antonio, Texas. Her areas of interest include animal studies, ecofeminist theory, gender and women’s studies, translation studies, and Catalan studies. Her research focuses on the construction of identity and community through fictionalized representations of human–animal relationships and animal subjectivity in Iberian literature and film. Agata Grzelczak is a PhD candidate in the Department of Hispanic Studies at the University of Kentucky. She also holds graduate degrees in ethnolinguistics from Adam Mickiewicz University in Poznan´, Poland, and in French and Francophone studies from University of Kentucky. Her research interests include migration studies and film and audiovisual studies. Agata is currently working on her dissertation, which examines the representation of mobility in Spanish-Argentine audiovisual coproductions. She is looking at how a documentary, a television series, and a feature film depict the questions of mobility between Spain and Argentina. Luis Guadaño is an associate professor of Spanish at Old Dominion University in Norfolk, Virginia. His research focuses on the origin and evolution of representational strategies in Spanish film through contact with other visual media such as theater, television, and comics. He is also interested in the cultural implications of adapting and remaking Spanish films into US versions. He has recently published “Updating Form, Content, and Culture: The Strange Case of Three 2012 Snow White Films” in Science Fiction and Fantasy from Page to Screen: Essays on Genre Adaptation (2015), Edwin Rousby: Un misterio desvelado (2014), and Entertainment Venues, Spatial Relations and the Rise of Cinema in Early 20thCentury Madrid (2014). Laura Hatry is a PhD candidate at the Universidad Autónoma of Madrid, with a thesis on cinematographic adaptations of Latin American literary works. Her work has been published in many specialized journals and books; she has translated books as well as essays from and to Spanish, English, and German, and has

ABOUT THE EDITORS AND CONTRIBUTORS     553

also participated as a speaker in international conferences in Spain, England, Italy, Germany, the United States, and Argentina. Her work as a visual artist has been shown at exhibitions in the United States, Spain, France, Germany, Canada, Switzerland, and the United Arab Emirates. Zachary Ingle received his PhD in film and media studies from the University of Kansas, where he wrote his dissertation on Robert Rodriguez. Although he specializes in African American and Latino/a cinema, he also enjoys teaching courses in international cinema. Ingle has edited four books in addition to having his articles appear in journals such as Literature/Film Quarterly, Post Script, and Journal of Sport History. He has contributed to numerous film encyclopedias, including Salvador Murguía’s Encyclopedia of Japanese Horror Films. He currently teaches film at Roanoke College in Virginia. Miki Ishimori holds a BA in political science (Doshisha University, Japan) and an MA in economic law (Institut D’Etudes Politiques de Paris). She currently studies in LLM in International Human Rights and Humanitarian Law (Aberystwyth University). Santiago Juan-Navarro is a professor of Hispanic studies at Florida International University (Miami). Santiago has published several books on Spanish and Latin American literature and film, including Archival Reflections: Postmodern Fiction of the Americas (2000); A Twice-Told Tale: Reinventing the Encounter in Iberian/Iberian American Literature and Film (2001); Alejandro Amenábar (2003); Juana of Castile: History and Myth of the Mad Queen (2008); and Nuevas aproximaciones al cine hispánico (2011). His most recent research focuses on reflexivity in cinema within a postnational context. Eduardo Ledesma is an assistant professor of Spanish at the University of Illinois at Urbana–Champaign, where he teaches Hispanic and Lusophone literature, film, and new media. He is the author of Radical Poetry: Aesthetics, Politics, Technology, and the Ibero-American Avant-Gardes, 1900–2015 (2016). His articles on film and new media have appeared in Studies in Spanish and Latin American Cinemas, Arizona Journal of Hispanic Cultural Studies, Revista Iberoamericana, Revista Hispánica Moderna, and Revista de Estudios Hispánicos, among other venues. He is currently completing a book titled Cinemas of Marginality: Experimental, Avant-Garde and Documentary Film in IberoAmerica (forthcoming). Catherine Leen is a senior lecturer and head of Spanish and Latin American Studies at the National University of Ireland, Maynooth, Ireland. Her teaching and research interests center on Mexican and Chicana/o literature and cinema and Argentine and Paraguayan visual culture and literature. In 2008, she received a Fulbright scholarship to conduct research at the Chicana/o Studies Institute at the University of California, Santa Barbara. Her most recent publication is a volume exploring the relevance of Chicana/o studies outside the United States, entitled International Perspectives on Chicana/o Culture: “This World Is My

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Place,” coedited by Dr. Niamh Thornton (2014). Dr. Leen is currently completing a monograph on Latina/o filmmakers and Mexico. Julia de León graduated with a degree in history and social work from the University of Valladolid (Spain). She moved to the United States in 2013 in order to complete her graduate studies. During her studies, Julia has been focusing on Spanish gypsy culture from the perspective of visual analysis. Particularly, Julia’s research concerns the late interest in depicting gypsy population and their precariousness in documentaries filmed after the beginning of the economic downturn that Spain has been experiencing since 2008. Julia holds a master’s of arts from the University of Washington and is currently working on her PhD at the Hispanic Studies Department of the University of Kentucky. María Jesús López-Soriano graduated from the University of Kentucky in 2016. Her doctoral dissertation analyzes popular culture products about the Spanish Civil War (1936–1939). Her interests focus primarily on movies, books, comics, and TV series and how their comic perspectives offer new viewpoints about the Spanish recent past and present. Matt Losada is an assistant professor in the Department of Hispanic Studies at the University of Kentucky. Alba Marcé García holds a master’s in Iberian studies from Ohio State University and is currently obtaining her PhD in Spanish at the University of California, Davis. Her present research project focuses in cultural representations of violence among minorities in Barcelona’s urban spaces. Emil Marmol is a PhD candidate at University of Toronto/OISE. He has conducted research into the use of noncommercial news media to foster critical thinking and engaged citizenship among secondary and postsecondary students. As an interdisciplinary scholar, he has published on the impact of neoliberalism on higher education, standardized testing, labor struggles, and film. Emil is currently writing his doctoral thesis as an autoethnography about growing up as an immigrant Latino in Orange County, California. Emil has professional film and radio production experience. For more on his work in critical media literacy, please see www.comparenews.org. Evan Marmol is a graduate student in the Master of Social Work program at California State University, Sacramento. He is a member of the 2017 cohort. Evan’s research interests include the concurrence of the sexualization of deities with the rise of patriarchy and the impact of law enforcement argot in reference to the disadvantaged and its capacity to further dehumanize the marginalized. Evan works with survivors of domestic violence and HIV-positive persons in the Sacramento area. Rebeca Martín has a PhD in Spanish literature from Universidad Autónoma de Barcelona. Her research concerns 19th- and 20th-century literature, especially

ABOUT THE EDITORS AND CONTRIBUTORS     555

short story and supernatural literature, but she is also interested in popular culture, horror cinema, and true crime. She has been a researcher and teacher at Universidad Autónoma de Barcelona, Universidad Autónoma de Madrid, and Universitat Oberta de Catalunya. Currently she works as a senior editor in the Literature Department of Editorial Vicens Vives (Barcelona). Alfredo Martínez-Expósito is a professor of Hispanic studies at the University of Melbourne, Australia, where he has been head of the School of Languages and Linguistics since 2011. He is a fellow of the Australian Academy of Humanities. He has published widely on gender and sexuality in Spanish cinema (Live Flesh: The Male Body in Contemporary Spanish Cinema, 2007, with Santiago FouzHernández). His most recent work focuses on place and imagology, including notions of nation and city branding, in contemporary Spanish cinema (Cuestión de imagen: cine y Marca España, 2015). Amanda Eaton McMenamin earned her PhD in romance literatures from Johns Hopkins University, specializing in modern peninsular literatures and cultures. She is currently an assistant professor of Spanish at Wilson College in Chambersburg, Pennsylvania. She has published essays on a variety of aspects of Hispanic literary and visual cultures, including recent contributions on Clarín’s La Regenta, Almodóvar’s filmic universe, and the Latina testimonial text, in addition to reviews in MLN and Letras femeninas and presentations on the literature of Emilia Pardo Bazán, the bastard nature of Spanish national identity as depicted in modern peninsular literature and film, and temporal dysphasia in Latin American film. Carmen Moreno-Nuño (PhD, University of Minnesota, 2000; MA, University of Minnesota, 1995; BA, Universidad de Granada, 1992) is author of Las huellas de la Guerra Civil: Mito y trauma en la narrativa de la España democrática (2006), and coeditor of the volume Armed Resistance: Cultural Representations of the Anti-Francoist Guerrilla (2012). She is currently writing a manuscript on historical memory in Spain. She has published articles on immigration, postmodernity, feminist writing, cinema, painting, television, comic strips, and the Spanish Civil War. She teaches Spanish literary and cultural studies in the Hispanic Studies Department at the University of Kentucky. Fiona Noble is a researcher of Spanish visual culture. She is an honorary fellow in the School of Modern Languages and Cultures, Durham University. She has worked as a teaching fellow in Hispanic studies at Durham and in film and visual culture at the University of Aberdeen. She has a PhD from the University of Aberdeen and has published on intercultural lesbian relationships in contemporary Spanish cinema, on the child in Spanish cinema, and on corporeal representations in the work of Salvador Dalí. Diana Norton is a PhD candidate at the University of Texas in Austin, currently writing her dissertation on Hispanidad and the star discourses of Hollywood and Latin American women actors in Spain. Interests include 20th-century Span-

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ish cultural studies, Iberian studies, borderland studies, transnationalism, and women’s and gender studies. Sean O’Reilly is a graduate of Harvard University’s History and East Asian Languages doctoral program. He has been blessed with many opportunities to live, teach, and conduct research in Japan. His research, which began with a Fulbright scholarship to Japan in 2012, concerns the strong connections in East Asia, and especially Japan, between history and popular culture, specifically the many cinematic depictions of storied moments from Japan’s past and what they signify for viewers without historical training. He currently lives with his family in Akita, Japan, where he is an assistant professor of Japan studies at Akita International University. Fernando Ortiz-Moya is an assistant professor of architecture and the built environment at the University of Nottingham, Ningbo, China. He received his bachelor’s and master’s degrees in architecture from the Higher School of Architecture, Technic University of Madrid (2009). He also holds an MSc in urban studies from the University of Edinburgh (2011). He obtained his PhD from the University of Tokyo in 2016, which was funded by the Japanese government. His research focuses on urban transformations due to global restructuring processes from different perspectives. Agustín Otero is an associate professor of Spanish language and literature at the College of New Jersey. Agustin is a native of Santiago de Compostela but has spent most of his life in the United States. He holds a BA in philosophy (Universidade de Santiago de Compostela), an MA (Villanova University), and a PhD (Temple University). His research covers the representations of the Civil War and Francoism in contemporary Spanish film and literature. Abraham Prades Mengibar is a PhD candidate in the Hispanic Studies Department of the University of Kentucky. His research is centered on the cultural products (music, cinema, documentary, and literature) that portray the voice of los indignados and the importance of the anti-austerity movement known as 15M. He currently lives with his family in Lexington, Kentucky. Eric L. Reinholtz has published scholarly work on topics ranging from the poetry of Federico García Lorca and Rubén Darío, to the novels of Gabriel García Márquez, to the films of Buster Keaton. He holds a PhD in romance languages and literatures from the University of Florida, and has taught Spanish language and literature at Florida Atlantic University, Pace University, and the University of Southern California. He currently serves as the head of the Department of World Languages at Marlborough School in Los Angeles. Cristina Ruiz-Poveda Vera is a doctoral student and film instructor at the University of Florida. Her work focuses on spirituality and film, specifically in contemporary Ibero-American cinema and its articulations of spiritual aesthetics. Her research interests also include coproductions and funding programs, the “pe-

ABOUT THE EDITORS AND CONTRIBUTORS     557

ripheral cinemas,” animation, and articulations of the body in film. She received her BA from the University Carlos III of Madrid. Antonio Sanna completed his PhD at the University of Westminster in London in 2008. His main research areas are English literature, gothic literature, and Shakespearean studies, but also horror films and TV programs, epic films, and cinematic adaptations. He has contributed to the compilation of The Dictionary of Literary Characters, Pop Culture in Europe, and The Encyclopedia of Queer Cinema. He worked for three years as a teaching assistant at the University of Cagliari and is currently employed as a teacher of English literature in Sassari. At the moment he is coediting A Critical Companion to Tim Burton and working on a volume on historical and fictional pirates. Guillermo Sanz Gallego earned his joint PhD from both the University of Seville (Spain) and the University of Antwerp (Belgium) in 2011. He lectures in the Department of Translation at University College Ghent, Belgium, where he is also head of the International Postgraduate Programme Dutch and Translation. He has essays published both in peer-reviewed journals—Arbor, Atlantis, Scientia Traductionis, Genetic Joyce Studies, Papers on Joyce, the Journal of Modern Literature, and the James Joyce Literary Supplement—as well as parts of books, JoyceSbilya, Beschouwingen uit een talenhuis, on his main fields of study, which are translation studies, James Joyce, censorship, and the Spanish Civil War. Enrique Téllez-Espiga is assistant professor of Spanish peninsular literature and film at Saint Joseph’s University, Philadelphia. His research explores the relationship between memory and urban experience in 20th- and 21st-century literature and film. He also focuses on representations of the city in contemporary Spanish literature and film. His recent publications include “Periferia segmentada y no-lugares en Barrio (1998) de Fernando León de Aranoa” (2014), “Memoria que tortura: Violencia de estado, memoria y metaficción en El vano ayer (2004) de Isaac Rosa,” and “An Ethical Revision of Spain’s Traumatic Past: ‘Anamnetic Justice’ in El Corazón Helado (2007) by Almudena Grandes” (2015). Sabrina Vaquerizo González is currently finishing an MA in contemporary China and Japan at the Open University of Catalonia. She will then go on to pursue a doctorate. Her research interests include gender representation in Japanese cinema and visual culture. Susan Walter is an associate professor in the Department of Languages and Literatures at the University of Denver, where she teaches courses on Spanish literature, film, culture, and language. Her main research interests include 19thand early 20th-century Spanish narrative, women’s writing, film, narratology, and representations of gender. Dr. Walter has published most of her research to date on the writings of Emilia Pardo Bazán; her essays have appeared in academic journals including Decimonónica, Letras Peninsulares, Hispania, and Romance Notes. Her first monograph, From the Outside Looking In: Narrative Frames and

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Narrative Spaces in the Short Fiction of Emilia Pardo Bazán, was published with Juan de la Cuesta Press in 2010. Chrystian Zegarra is an associate professor of Spanish at Colgate University in Hamilton, New York, where he teaches courses on contemporary Latin American literature. He has published the monograph El celuloide mecanografiado (The Film Strip Typed), an analysis of the relationship between Emilio Adolfo Westphalen’s avant-garde poetry and the experimental cinema of the 1920s and 1930s. His articles dealing with formal and thematic connections between Latin American literature and film have appeared in journals such as Bulletin of Hispanic Studies, Inti, Revista de Crítica Literaria Latinoamericana, and Hispamérica, among others.