My current obsession:

"Balada Triste de Trompeta" Title Sequence from David Guaita on Vimeo.


    Balada triste de trompeta is one of the films that I'm hoping to write a longer piece about. At the moment, however, I have become slightly distracted by the opening credits, which manage to condense around forty years of Spanish history into just over two minutes. They are designed by David Guaita (incidentally, I think that all of the reviews I've read mention the opening credits in glowing terms, but none of them actually mention the name of the designer), and you can read an interview with him (in English) about the process of making the sequence on his blog.
    I think that he’s right that the sequence probably has more impact for a Spanish person, but even as a non-Spanish person who does not recognise every individual included (I’ve actually worked backwards by making a list of key figures in the regime and then googling them to find out what they looked like, and I also looked at the list of people thanked by Álex de la Iglesia in the end credits to put a few more names to (the non-political) faces), the combination of the music with the rhythm of the cuts and the intercutting with icons of horror cinema gives a sense of deep foreboding.
    When I’ve got a bit more time, I’ll write a detailed piece about it because I think that these two-and-a-bit minutes are a mini-masterpiece of filmmaking.

My Top 5 Spanish Films Viewed in 2011

Given that I don't live in Spain, I tend to see films when they're released on DVD; usually a year after their initial cinema release. So, these films aren't all 'from' 2011 but I've limited myself to films that were released in Spanish cinemas in either 2011 or 2010. This top 5 is comprised of films that I viewed this year and wrote about on the blog -either as standalone posts, or as part of the Random Viewing thread.

1. Primos (Daniel Sánchez Arévalo, 2011)

A warm hug of a film -the affection that writer-director Daniel Sánchez Arévalo has for his characters is infectious. The collection of actors (Quim Gutierrez, Antonio de la Torre, Raúl Arévalo) who are becoming his de facto repertory company also form (along with Adrián Lastra, Inma Cuesta, and Clara Lago) one of the best ensemble casts of the year.

2. Pa negre (Agustí Villaronga, 2010)

A dark and otherworldly tale of innocence lost. A child's eye view of adult deceit and destruction. One of the most brutal opening sequences I can remember ever watching.

3. La mitad de Óscar (Manuel Martín Cuenca, 2011)

Probably one of the most atmospheric films I saw this year (in any language); it makes distinctive use of the landscape / geographic space and also assuredly cranks up the tension (we know that something is being pointedly ignored by the two siblings (bravura performances from Rodrigo Sáenz de Heredia and Verónica Echegui) but it hovers just out of sight for most of the film). It builds to a quietly devastating final scene between the two siblings that plays out in one long take with them in silhouette as the sun rises behind them: a strong contender for scene of the year, in my opinion (I saw the film back in September and it is still stuck in my mind).

4. Todas las canciones hablan de mí (Jonás Trueba, 2010)

A brilliant comedic romantic drama -guaranteed to put a spring in your step. I will hopefully write something longer about it in the New Year (it has only been briefly covered in a Random Viewing post so far).

5. Balada triste de trompeta (Álex de la Iglesia, 2010)

Not quite as batshit insane as the trailer makes out but nonetheless full of vivid imagery that scorches your retina and refuses to leave your mind (along with that song, which I have been humming ever since). Whatever your opinion of the overall whole (people seem to be divided between hating it or declaring it a masterpiece), I'd hope that most would have at least a glimmer of admiration for a writer-director going this 'all out'. Plaudits also go to the three leads -Carlos Areces, Antonio de la Torre, and Carolina Bang- the film wouldn't work if they weren't all committed to their roles, or if one performance overwhelmed the other two. The film will hopefully have a standalone post early in the New Year.

Honourable mentions: La mosquitera (Agustí Vila, 2010), Chico y Rita (Fernando Trueba & Javier Mariscal, 2011), Agnosia (Eugenio Mira, 2010), Flamenco Flamenco (Carlos Saura, 2010), La piel que habito (Pedro Almodóvar, 2011), La mujer sin piano (Javier Rebollo, 2010) and Héroes (Pau Freixas, 2010).

Films from 2010* that I still need to track down: Bon appétit (David Pinillos, 2010), El Gran Vázquez (Óscar Aibar, 2010), La isla interior (Dunia Ayaso & Félix Sabroso, 2010), Pájaros de papel (Emilio Aragón, 2010), Que se mueran los feos (Nacho G. Velilla, 2010), También la lluvia (Icíar Bollaín, 2010), Todo lo que tú quieras (Achero Mañas, 2010). *films from 2011 that I still need to track down will appear in a forthcoming post.

Films that didn't fit the 2010 / 2011 criteria but that you should definitely see: Los cronocrímenes (Nacho Vigalondo, 2007), Salto al vacio (Daniel Calparsoro, 1995), La madre muerta (Juanma Bajo Ulloa, 1993 -I wrote two posts on this one –here and here), Nadie hablará de nosotras cuando hayamos muerto (Agustín Díaz Yanes, 1995 -a longer post on this one will appear in 2012), and Entre tinieblas (Pedro Almodóvar, 1983).

Hero of the Year: Filmin -without this Spanish streaming service I would have seen far fewer recent Spanish films (I first saw three of my top 5 via their service, and a further 4 of the honourable mentions) simply because of how expensive it is to import DVDs. I am also more likely to take a 'risk' on films that I know little about -as was the case with La mitad de Óscar- when using an all-included subscription service, which broadens the variety of films that this blog covers and hopefully makes it a bit more interesting.

I’ll be taking a break from the blog between Christmas and New Year –I’ll be back in January with posts on films from 2011 that I still want to catch up with, and on the Spanish films due for release in 2012 that I’m most interested in.

Merry Christmas –and I’ll ‘see’ you in 2012!

Not-So-Random-Viewing: Álex de la Iglesia Edition

Clockwise from top left: Balada triste de trompeta / The Last Circus (Álex de la Iglesia, 2010), 800 balas / 800 Bullets (Álex de la Iglesia, 2002), The Oxford Murders (Álex de la Iglesia, 2008), El día de la bestia / Day of the Beast (Álex de la Iglesia, 1995).

   Balada triste de trompeta featured in one of my first posts on this blog as one of the films from last year that I most wanted to catch up with in 2011. I'm going to write a standalone post about the film in (hopefully) January -I need to watch it again before attempting to write anything of any decent length and I won't have the time until after Christmas. [I know I quite often say that and things still haven't materialised, but Nadie hablará de nosotras cuando hayamos muerto and a joint post about Los lunes al sol and Biutiful are still percolating in my brain, honest].
   However, on first impressions it strikes me as a culmination of de la Iglesia's work to date and it will be interesting to see where he has gone with his next film, La chispa de la vida (due for release in Spain in January); Balada triste de trompeta almost feels like an end point in terms of certain themes that recur across the director's work. It is unmistakably 'an Álex de la Iglesia film' in terms of the vividness and inventiveness of the imagery and an extremity of violence that takes on an almost cartoon-like quality; this is filmmaking that is by turns both exhilarating and highly disturbing. The circus is the perfect setting for the lunacy, violence, dark humour, and cruelty that run through de la Iglesia's films; given the miscreants, misfits, and malcontents who populate his films, it is almost a surprise that he hasn't set a story in this world before (although several of his films take place within an entertainment setting -a television comedy double-act in Muertos de risa and a Western sideshow spectacle in 800 balas).
   It was the sense that Balada represents a culmination of his work that made me watch the only two of his films that I hadn't seen previously: 800 balas and The Oxford Murders. 800 balas is in many ways a paean to cinema, filmmaking, and the type of films 'they don't make anymore'. The film takes place on old film sets in Almeria (the location for many Westerns filmed in the 1950s/60s, including Sergio Leone's Dollars trilogy) where a former stuntman (Sancho Gracia) reenacts his glory days with a gang of reprobates as they stage a 'Western sideshow' for the dwindling number of visiting tourists. It is a warm tribute to a world that no longer exists. I had two surprises watching The Oxford Murders -1) that it was nowhere near as bad as the UK reviews had led me to believe, and 2) how little of de la Iglesia's normal visual style it contained; it was as if the tepid English sunlight had diluted his usual visual dazzling.
   Then I decided to rewatch El día de la bestia because it is my favourite of his films (and one of my favourite films, full stop) - and as it takes place on Christmas Eve it seemed appropriately festive (insofar as a film about a priest (Alex Angulo), a TV psychic / paranormal expert (Armando de Razza), and a death-metal fan (Santiago Segura) attempting to stop the birth of the Antichrist can be 'festive'). I've never understood why it isn't available in the UK (likewise his Carmen Maura-starring La comunidad (2000)) given that several of his other films are, and it currently also seems to be OOP in Spain. If you get the chance to see it, do so -it is very funny and a deeply affectionate take on the horror film.