Galicia is an autonomous community/territory within Spain, with their own language, Galician (Gallegan), and a population of 2.7 million people. They have never really been on the world map in terms of film history, and a quick search on Wikipedia reveals only 9 films slot in Galician, including some where it is not the primary language. But: Something is happening here - and it is worth letting everyone know as Galician films are suddenly entering the world stage and festivals. There is even a Galician film festival established in the UK, and films from Galicia are getting traction, as seen with both Fire Will Come and Endless Night.
I was just recently tipped about this after expressing interest in Fire Will Come, which I just two days ago reviewed in the Last Watched, I'll add the review in as a springboard:
O que arde / Fire will come (2019, Oliver Laxe)
Fire Will Come does not open with fire, but rather harrowing, hypnotic destruction - as trees fall - seemingly by mystical forces - in the midst of night. We see them lifted up, we see the forest torn apart - while what can only be described as a bass sending us further into a uneasy trance.
Then: hands - a document being sent from person to person - no faces shown: an arsonist will be released - and his face - alone, in a bus, going down the highway, is the first face we see - though even here we drift - following his gaze at the apparent nothingness outside - all accompanied by classical music.
Fire Will Come - a forewarning akin to There Will Be Blood - makes it clear where this will all end. This foreboding tension - the knowledge that fire will come, makes the understated scenes of aging mother and son, as well as the slow scenes of daily chores and herdics cows in the galican countryside eerie, and adds a more intense bite to the soft melancholy as we attempt to read anything into Almador's muted expression.
I could also give a few negatives, though as they will border on spoilers I'll abstain beyond wanting the fire - when it does come - to be even more mystifying - but this is a thoroughly wonderful film and one of the best of 2019.
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After seeing Fire Will Come I was taken down a small but quite comfortable and impressive walk through recent Galician film. I was not aware of the apparent bursting at the seams arthouse scene developing in Galicia and it is incredible to be made aware of it this "early" (we can presume more Galician films will go into the festival scene in the years to come). It is also fascinating that 3 of these 4 films (Fire Will Come included), despite being by different directors, share the same cinematographer: Mauro Herce. Clearly one of the most interesting cinematographers to watch - and also a nice showcase of a film connection between the Galician films coming to the forefront.
These are three other Galician films I explored:
Longa noite / Endless Night (2019, Eloy Enciso)
I am not sure if I have ever experienced a film that manages to sweep you into eternal darkness and place you on a true journey of day into nights, the way Eloy Enrisco's latest near-masterpiece has accomplished. If you recall the sensory experience of being lead into the night, wandering as if in a daze, in Bi Gan's aptly named Long Day's Journey into Night, I can only say that Encisco has managed to outdo it - and add actual meaning and poetry - complementing the increasing darkness - and the sense of being lost in the night - to perfection.
Endless Night opens, surprisingly, with day: We see little vignettes of life, with a cold, sad underlying note that could perhaps be construed as irony - but hits a little deeper. At first glance it could almost seem comparable to a non-comedic Roy Andersson - merely without the long takes - with a pinch of Rohmer and Straub/Huillet - but all new notes and a style of its own. There is a purity and simplicity in the way the dialogue is delivered and captured that immediately places us on the outside looking in. We are spectators, and we are viewing an almost timeless age that quickly reveals itself to be Franco's Spain - and we shortly realize that we are not just seeing vignettes, but that there is one solitary person travelling through them - this is merely the world he is walking through.
It should go without saying that the visuals by Mauro Herce (the Cinematographer of Fire Will Come) are exquisite - both in its restrained observation - gracious encapturing - and haunting contrasts. I particularly loved the quiet moments when the camera would linger at a detail of a scene - such as the bread, with a knife next to it, in the opening scene. The composition akin to a beautiful traditional painting - and allowing us to see a kind of surprising beauty in the midst of what we are observing.
The narrative is divided into 3 clear acts, each separated by title cards showing I, II and III - and while there is a continuity of style, atmosphere and if you will, narrative - each section brings something new - and each section strips something away: as we drift further and further into night. It is a cry of the time, a memory of the past, an echo of suffering - with the characters (to the extent you can call them that) arguably being placeholders for humanity/Spain/Galicia as a whole. As we move from dialogue, to monologue to narration/recitation - a change so simply - yet so pivotal I almost considered adding a spoiler warning for a structural/poetic device we get a picture, broad and wide of Franco's Spain, the indifference/callousness of those who supported it - and the pain, fair and ambivalence of those who stood against it.
Undoubtedly one of the best films of the last decade.
9.5/10
Lúa vermella / Red Moon Tide (2020, Lois Patiño)
A testament to the power of poetic minimalism, Red Moon Tide is a dark fairytale/horror film told almost entirely in narration (from the point of view of several characters) as it takes you into a dreamlike world where a monster may be taking over an entire island population. Bending the concept of time, place and possibly even personhood - we are met with beautiful, quiet visuals of the sea, of cliffs/seaside, of fishing boats, of a town and of a dam - and people in these settings. We get to know these locations - and revisit them - as things change.
Spellbinding you with red tints, white sheets and contemplations of time - and the monster coming to take them all - Red Moon Tide finds the balance between beauty, poetry and entrancing suspense without ever overstaying its welcome - and managing to create some absolutely beautiful sequences - including a finale that can only be described as a visual symphony.
*Lois Patiño acted as both director and cinematographer for this film.
8/10
La estrella errante / The Wandering Star (2018, Alberto Gracia)
Reality becomes fiction, in this quirky and enjoyable meta-essay(?) that doesn't quite manage to bring a cohesive vision to life. The premise is odd, but interesting. We follow Rober, the lead singer in a one-song 80s band as he visits the areas subject to controversial strikes at the exact same time their single was dropped. Perhaps something is missing in my knowledge of Galicia, but I failed to find anything connecting "The Dirty Side of Rock'n Roll" to the unexplained strikes - and the relationship is not explored. As such, it is a mere exercise in ambiguous connections, serving primarily to establish mood as Rober travels and looks for a "Ronnie".
As with the above Galician films I am sensing a trend in focusing on tension and letting you be entranced in a partially obscured mystique - and Gracia certainly builds tension here. The intercut old interviews are also great - giving more life to "Rober" - who now seems more like a shadow - while toying around with an additional observer - and an unclear story of the band. My favourite scene was honestly and unfortunately, the early pool scene depicting inhabitants of one of the towns simply experiencing the pool and its featured in a very sensory way - showing their old, hardened faces - allowing us to feel their pain and pleasure - and introducing us to the life - these kinds of scenes are lost in the focus of the wandering Rober - and I can't really understand why the towns are brought in at all - as I said at the start - this vision just doesn't quite manage to manifest (at least not for me). Still, it is a highly enjoyable film, with a decent amount of fun and cinematic play - and while I did "merely" like it, The Wandering Star certainly adds to and showcases the size and focus of the Galician arthouse scene.
Note: Mauro Herce was also the cinematographer on this work, and while more low-key the camera work is still excellent.
6-6.5/10
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