These are the premieres that hit the theaters this May 10
By Jordi Batlle Caminal
It is understandable that Burt Lancaster, John Wayne or Kirk Douglas, when they eventually decided to move to the other side of the camera, made a Western, because it is the genre that they had stuck like a thumbtack on their spine and to which, as actors, they had given memorable titles. Clint Eastwood and Kevin Costner would follow that path, contributing valuable works to a decidedly moribund modality. Nowadays there are no longer actors that one immediately associates with Westerns, but Viggo Mortensen, in his second film as a director, has opted for the genre. He already demonstrated, in 2008, that he was no stranger to Westerns by playing Appaloosa, coincidentally also directed (and co-starring) by a great actor, Ed Harris. Mortensen had, and has, presence, authority, a tough guy demeanor comparable to that of the classics.
In Hasta el fin del mundo, themes, characters, spaces and visual motifs faithfully respond to the codes of the western, which Mortensen covers with a welcoming breath of lyricism. His execution is impeccable: just look at the planning of the massacre at the beginning, at the exit of the saloon, to see that there is a talented director here.
And attentive to the beat of our time, because beyond connecting with the essence and quintessence of the western, Mortensen gives the spotlight to the woman, a tragic heroine (terrific Vicky Krieps, although she does not reach the hurricane-force bravery of Barbara Stanwyck, the queen of the Far West), and structures the story, which goes through several years, in a non-chronological way, mixing times, continually jumping between them, a narrative resource widely used today (sometimes with mastery: Guadagnino in Rivales) and here of doubtful effectiveness.
Until well into the sixties, a good Western like Until the End of the World was common. We are not talking about giants still active then (Walsh, Ford, Hathaway, Hawks) or at their peak (Peckinpah), but about craftsmen with infallible aim like Burt Kennedy or John Sturges, without whom the genre could not be understood at all. its fertile breadth. It is in this second formation where Mortensen must be placed in his praiseworthy contribution to that part of the film heaven that is Western cinema. The timely arrival of a Western to theaters (Almodóvar or Walter Hill last year) is always a gift for the fans.
Por Philipp Engel
With only two feature films under his belt, Jaurrieta has built his own universe, far from realism and marked by the adoration of cinema itself. In fact, Ana by Day, released six years ago – pandemic through – and Nina, both starring two superlative actresses in their prime – there Ingrid García Jonsson, here Patricia López Arnaiz –, could be connected to each other through one of those brilliant cabaret curtains: they reappear at the back of the bar in the second, as if they were hiding the cabaret universe of the first.
The Navarrese is attracted to the decadent, the melodrama, the B series. Urban Western or village thriller, begins with López Arnaiz returning to the coastal town where she grew up, in the rain and with a shotgun, no less, in her bag . She will stay, of course, in the loneliest hotel in the world.
In the spotlight, as will be discovered, is a writer in his sixties (Darío Grandinetti) with whom he had, let’s say, a relationship when he was a fifteen-year-old girl (the young Aina Picarolo), a past that will manifest itself in the form of traumatic flash-backs. As in the recent, and disappointing, adaptation of Consent – ??Vanessa Springora’s autobiographical novel – the age difference between the lovers leaves no room for doubt, at least from today’s perspective: It is abuse, no matter how much, in In this case, an attempt is made to humanize the monster.
But beyond the hot topic, Nina, which also has literary roots – The Seagull, by Chekhov, and the sequel by playwright Juan Ramón Fernández – is a film that seduces for its rapturous style and for that cinephile passion that has the courage to not hide, it even shows itself shamelessly, as with those Vertigo-style chases (or Death in Venice). It can be criticized for some past symbol of twists and other imperfections, but it is a successful attempt at big-time cinema, with a flavor of old glamour, and while remaining rabidly contemporary.
By Salvador Llopart
The technical capacity deployed here to see – to capture – the humanity reflected in the eyes of the apes is marvelous. In essence that is what we have: the will to capture humanity in two opposite ape-like ways when organizing coexistence. On the one hand, a life in harmony with nature and, on the other, the desire to master human weapons secrets to build an empire. Monkey thing – or is it? – where action always rules. The presence of men remains in the background. Apes and men will clash again, surely, in future installments of the saga.
Por P. Engel
A forgetful man (Karim Leklou) returns from the trenches, and is claimed by not one, but two antagonistic women: Leïla Bekhti, in patient and devoted wife mode, and Louise Bourgoin, the brazen singer of the cabaret where the amnesiac served drinks and threw knives. Which one is the good one, and who will she fall in love with? Although the question has many crumbs, this production is still a correct historical drama, based on various real events, and with a good leading trio. But he settles for that.
By S. Llopart
After years of separation, three women from three different generations – grandmother, mother and daughter – meet again due to the illness of one of them, in a meeting where the edges of the drama are ignored to end in a light comedy. An imposture, that is. On top of that, with a desire for transcendence. The mess is sustained – it is endured – thanks to the magnificent performances of the mother (emotional Andrea Riseborough) and her daughter (anguished Morgan Saylor), and the unquestionable presence of a legend: Catherine “the queen” Deneuve.
Por P. Engel
The irresistible magnetism of Pepa Flores, another known as Marisol; her fascinating transition from child prodigy of Francoism to communist muse of democracy, as well as the bravery of her subsequent disappearance from the public eye, are more than enough to compose an exciting mosaic of images, even playing with a risky voice-over . But, as often happens, the proliferation of talking heads detracts from the whole. They contribute (almost) nothing at an informative level, and constitute, above all, a significant unsightly burden.
By S. Llopart
Remember Michael Haneke? Yes, that Austrian director with the white beard and cold, dehumanized gaze? Well, As Neves has that “Haneke” point in the dissection of the drama, although with greater compassion. A video with sexual content has been distributed among teenagers in a Galician town and, at the same time, a young woman disappears: this is how this great debut directed by Sonia Méndez begins, combining, with veteran skill, rural air with drama. urban. Where the landscape, as beautiful as it is indifferent, provides the cruel counterpoint.