HOME’s Viva festival, a self-proclaimed selection of ‘the most exciting film and theatre from across the Spanish-speaking world’, continues apace with a contemporary Spanish film from actor turned director Paul Dura.
Prior to the feature, we were treated to a charming short ‘El Camino De Santiago’ (Dir Monzó, M. 2017), which takes its influence from the breathlessly paced voiceover montages of Jean Pierre Jeunet’s ‘Amelie’ and borrows some of Jeunet’s fantastical whimsy and wit. It is gloriously shot in sun-bleached hues, it is pacey and has some genuinely funny moments. It does however seem to pull away from its more surreal and humorous potential, which is a shame, but the biggest crime is how, after establishing a compelling central enigma, it completely dismisses it. It just gives up on its own premise in a conclusion that may as well state “It was just a dream” it is so trite. Monzo is a talent worth looking out for, but perhaps should figure out how to end his stories.
The feature presentation was ‘Formentera Lady’ (Dir: Dura, P. 2018), a drama set on the small Balearic Island that is just a stone’s throw from Ibiza. Samuel, an aged womaniser and hippy eaks out a living playing banjo in a local bar. He lives a basic, lonely existence in his near-derelict shack, which lacks heating and electricity. Upon returning home one morning after being forced into sleeping in his broken-down car, which serves as a suitable metaphor for his failing health and perhaps impotence, he is met by his estranged daughter, who informs him that she is leaving behind Samuel’s grandson because she has to go to work in France.
What follows is a charming character study of a man defined by his selfishness, forced into taking responsibility for someone else, in this case a vulnerable & lonely young boy. This is hardly a new plot for a drama and perhaps a brilliant recent example is Taika Waititi’s ‘Hunt For The Wilderpeople’ (2016) which played this trope to much more comic effect, but Formentera Lady handles the set-up with great maturity and heart. José Sacristán’s portrayal of Samuel is excellently pitched. He is clearly an actor blessed with real charisma (here he cuts a dashing figure reminiscent of Sir Ian McKellan) but each close-up holds on Sacristán projecting palpable tiredness and regret in his eyes, whilst his innocent counterpart Marc (played by Sandro Ballesteros) is equally as damaged despite his young years. There is not a bad performance in the whole film, which draws naturalistic and believable characterisation from all of the supporting cast, most notably from Jordi Sánchez, who is tasked with the most broadly comic role. As Toni, the local fisherman who seems to spend all of his money on marijuana, Sánchez delivers most of the punchlines and injects some energy into later scenes, whilst maintaining a sense that he is a three-dimensional character who would exist in the world that director Dura has created.
Dura’s strengths as a director come in the form of the performances he draws from his cast and restraint he shows in his storytelling. His aesthetics are somewhat jarring at times though; In capturing this slow-paced, sensitive character-study of an elderly man’s chance at redemption, Dura has inexplicably opted for a handheld camera technique throughout. The use of handheld imbues the film with an agitated and restless feel, which is incongruous to the deliberate editing pace and overall stillness of Sacristán’s performance. Some compositions cry out for a static camera and instead the frame pitches and lurches like Jason Bourne is about to burst in and kick one of these pensioners in the face. Another quibble is the soundtrack, which despite trying to evoke Samuel’s past, as well as his reason for remaining on the island apparently stuck in the 1970s, is horribly jarring. The refrain of King Crimson’s ‘Formentera Lady’ from their 1971 album ‘Islands’ is obviously narratively relevant, but it is a horrible song which does not suit the mood of the film. It clatters in tunelessly like a drunk singing a sad ballad on the last bus home.
These jarring aesthetic choices could not spoil such an enjoyable and touching film. The film reminds me very much of Koreeda’s recent triumph ‘Shoplifters’ in its patient, humanist storytelling, and in how the complexity of the characters is slowly revealed by subtle developments throughout the narrative. Even as the final act veers inevitably towards some melodramatic peril, it is in how believably Dura’s screenplay set this chain of events up that it doesn’t feel forced or contrived.
Formentera Lady is a drama rich in sentimentality and charm, and you can catch it again at HOME on the 5th April. The Viva Festival runs until Saturday the 13th April and you can find a full list of film and theatre events at homemcr.org/viva-2019.
Reviewer - Ben Hassouna-Smith
on - 28/3/19
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