Left to right: Luis Lopez Carrasco, Miguel Llansó, Cesar Velasco Broca, Chema Garcia Ibarra, Ion de Sosa. Photo by Leonor Díaz
The first question is what do we call them? These 5 guys who are turning the Spanish film world on its head, who are all buddies and exchange roles on each other’s films – producer one time, screenwriter the next, then cameraman, then director – pushing and inspiring each other to make better and better films. And they’re all – each and every one of them – making great films.
So what do we call them?
The Spanish Underground. Some folks call them that. I don’t know how underground you are when you’re being feted at lesser and greater film festivals all over the world. They may have been underground once, but they’ve crawled out of their holes and their films are seeing the light of day in darkened screening rooms, festival halls and over the Internet.
The Spanish New Wave. Nope. Been there, done that with a mess of other national cinemas. These guys are more of a tsunami – terrifying and unstoppable – anyway.
Cinco Jinetes del Post-Apocalipsis. The 5 horsemen of the post-apocalypse. A friend of theirs brought up the idea of jinetes on one of their facebook pages. A bit grandiose, but it gets closer. Closer to the themes, the ideas, the inspirations that have been made manifest in their films. And a bit closer to the end of the world, which is where many of their films begin.
So, who are they? Cesar Velasco Broca, Ion de Sosa, Chema Garcia Ibarra, Luis Lopez Carrasco and Miguel Llansó. That’s who they are. And you will be hearing their names a lot more.
First there’s Velasco Broca, he of Ming the Merciless pate and carriage. His short films fly somewhere between Maddinesque appropriations of some sort of lost cinema history and a logical (if that’s not to oxymoronic) leap from/in/of the lineage of surrealism. From Bunuel to Val de Omar – to whom he made a filmic homage (lensed by Ion de Sosa) – to Velasco Broca. It makes sense – in a surrealist sort of way.
His major work is a trilogy of films know collectively as Echos der Buchrücken (Echos of the Spine) They include Der Milchshorf / La Costra Lactea (Cradle Cap) – imagine Las Hurdes as a sci-fi mystery directed by Fellini; Kinky Hoodoo Voodoo – strange psychosexual goings on at a boy’s summer camp, oh and there are aliens involved; and Avant Petallos Grillados – bodily obsolescence at the hands of crab-clawed aliens in a pretty hostile world. These brief descriptions merely hint at the wonder and perversity of Velasco Broca’s oeuvre.
And then there’s Chema Garcia Ibarra. After exploring a number of ideas through a series of short films, some a bit derivative of Velasco Broca, he finally came into his own with pair of brilliant films, Mysterio (Mystery) and Uranes. These films both feature a heady mix of sci-fi maguffins and a heartfelt exploration of myths, mysteries and that thing that people call faith. Mysterio follows a very average woman who finally figures it out. How to get out of world. Uranes is a hilarious and ultimately heartbreaking story, brilliantly constructed, that mixes Hitchcock, not just in technique, but the sense of profound disquiet at any ostensible morality of the universe and the countervailing tendencies of objective minimalism and subjective individualism. It all comes together beautifully.
Ion de Sosa hit the scene with True Love, a personal documentary about a year he spent in Germany breaking up with his girlfriend. De Sosa’s omnivorous diaristic eye marks the seasons, obsessively noting the mundane and the relevant in his rundown neighborhood, capturing distressed exteriors and the interior of the squat he and his buddies inhabit. The film gets so personal we see him getting new tats, fucking his girlfriend and getting a stomach biopsy. We literally see his insides! How close can you get?
His follow up film, Sueñan los Androides – Androiden Träumen (Androids Dream), is a brilliant take on Philip K. Dick’s Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?. The inspiration for Blade Runner. In de Sosa’s version, the dystopic blasted modernism of the 80s-developed resort town of Benidorm serves as the backdrop for a psychopathic blade runner to gun down much more human-than-him replicants. De Sosa’s cold take critiques not only the future, but also the present of life in Spain.
And speaking of The Future – it’s the name of Luis Lopez Carrasco’s solo feature debut, El Futuro. It’s an all night long party set in the 1980s, where a soundtrack of obscure Spanish new wave songs obscure and drown out the conversations. The restless, claustrophobic, tight camerawork (shot by de Sosa) captures a generation whose legacy of experimentation with sex, drug and democracy left Spain with the massive hangover it’s suffering from now. Carrasco wants you to remember that.
He started off in a film collective, Los Hijos. Their work exists as a series of short fundamental formalist experiments and investigations into the essence of film to longer works, including El sol en el sol de membrillo, a lovely, funny and abstract deconstruction of Victor Erice’s El sol de membrillo (The Quince Tree Sun).
Miguel Llansó, though based in Madrid, spends much of his time in Ethiopia, where he makes most of his films. He’s made many faux and real documents of Ethiopian life. He quickly found his own voice and vision with Chigger Ale, a celebration of Ethiopian culture, but this time with a wickedly funny story built around the childish and absurd megalomania of a Hitler wannabe (played deliciously by Daniel Tadesse, a kyphotic little guy). He constantly gets his comeuppance from his petty power plays and finally is launched into space with a dominatrix. So long. Have fun.
Llansó’s first feature, Crumbs, continues in the mode of Afrofuturism, but this time in a post apocalyptic landscape, where the dormant spaceship hovering above the Earth suddenly begins to show signs of life, beckoning our hero, Candy (played by Tadesse) to “return” to his Close-Encounterish destiny. With its send-up of Joseph Campbelisms, Llanso attacks consumer society and its detritus littering our future with a fuck-it-all surrealist streak mixed with graceful humanism.
Surrealism, sci-fi, retro-futurism and big metaphorical fables are just the tip of the iceberg of the themes that this quintet of auteurs are brewing up and melting down in our current rerun of end times. Their works are a welcome psychic antidote to the dull and mind-numbing product being pumped out from the entertainment factories of the world. They take some of the tropes. Hell, they were born and raised with and colonized by these tropes! Just like the rest of us. But they turn them on their heads, shake ‘em up and make them into compelling and absorbing low budget spectacles. Their future is now.