El verdugo

Spanish writer-director Luis García Berlanga's eighth feature film is a Spain-Italy co-production, stars Italian matinée idol Nino Manfredi as an unassuming undertaker, José Luis Rodríguez, whose marriage prospect is not so encouraging due to his profession. Through chance meeting with a senior prison executioner Amadeo (Isbert), he gets acquainted with his daughter Carmen (Penella), who is also pestered by the same pickle, no one is willing to marry her simply because of Amadeo's job, so the two chime in instantly and apparently it is a perfect match, but soon life put José through the wringer of a series of exigencies (Carmen's pregnancy, marriage and a thorny apartment issue), his ideal future where he can get rid of this disreputable trade becomes more and more unattainable, once he has been pushed to register as a successor of his father-in-law, aka. a new executioner is born.

On the horns of a dilemma, José's predicament is wittily delineated through Berlanga's delightful verve, exerts a realistic spin on the irony of life, how one's ideal having been gradually crushed by the twist of fate. Manfredi's interpretation of José affects in earnest, he is spontaneously sympathetic to establish José as a nobody, stuck in the line of work which he doesn't like, exhibits his own foibles through his marriage, and lives by his blind faith that he could still opt out against the worst-case scenario, until his melt-down when the bubble is burst.

Veteran Spanish actor José Isbert plays Amadeo enthusiastically, who is decidedly persevering in tricking José to take over his mantle, so as to secure the marriage and an apartment assigned from the government, he is manipulative on top of his goody-goody persona, but we cannot blame him for his simple-mined selfishness, plainly because that's the widespread mindset among most people in the world. As for Emma Fenella, her Carmen is an uncomplicated sort, maternal, down- to-earth and forges strong protection to the men in her life.

The satirical connotation of morbidness seeps through the debate over the variations of death penalty (garrotte seems to be the most civilised choice), and a unanimous bias towards a now obsolete vocation. A vignette of José and Carmen's frugal wedding right after a fancier one, and the tour in Palma de Mallorca, where the lovey-dovey luxuriates in a string concert on the creek inside a large cave, exactly in that moment, José's duty call arrives, these are brilliant instances where realism meets cinematic creation, whether they are bittersweet, heartfelt or intriguing, together they bring about vigour and pleasure to the audience and it is a telling testimony of a director's faculty.

The Executioner's plot is simple: after his father-in-law retires, a man must take over his role as an executioner in order to preserve the family's state-leased apartment, but he hates the job. It's not a flashy film. There's no nudity, violence, or special effects. It's hard to say there's even anything like a serious plot twist. Instead, it's just an excellently scripted and well-designed satire.

From the beginning of the movie, Jose Luis is a weak-willed man. He talks of wanting to go to Germany to become a mechanic, but instead stays in his day job as an undertaker. Although he seems to find the state executioner's job repellent, Jose Luis ends up sleeping with the executioner's daughter, possibly because no one else will date an undertaker. From there, he winds up applying to become the next executioner - notwithstanding his own numerous objections - in order to keep the family in a nice, new state-owned apartment. When he's finally called up to execute a man, Jose Luis gets cajoled by his father-in-law and wife (who wants a vacation) to go consider it at the site rather than resign. Once he's finally there - in one of the film's best scenes - Jose Luis gets egged on even more by the prison warden after he tries to resign at the site. By the end, Jose Luis somehow finds himself having done exactly what he said he wouldn't do. His comfortable wife seems not to care.

The Executioner doesn't have a lot of out-loud laughs, but it's very funny. It manages to achieve great situational irony without descending into slapstick; it's an absurd plot that feels totally believable. Throughout, there are a number of memorable scenes, and the dialogue usually is witty and excellent. It's a movie that somehow manages to satirize capital punishment - with clever commentary along the way, particularly about state bureaucracy - without coming across as political or partisan. Overall, The Executioner is well worth a watch.

Fiercely funny and unapologetically black, "The Executioner" is among the most entertaining comedies that I have ever seen. Through morbid themes and distressing issues, this masterpiece of the macabre is one of Spanish cinema's many miracles. The pace is as fast as a speeding bullet as visionary filmmaker Luis Garcia Berlanga slyly mocks the heated controversy of capital punishment. Forcing its lead character to choose between traumatizing himself and living a life of poverty, Berlanga is masterfully able to turn transform tragedy into farce.

While the constant comedy may seem to some as no more than silly distraction from the social commentary, I sensed not only a consistent sense of farcical satire in the masterwork, but also a consistent sense of dread and awareness. The film can be split into two halves: the first being a slightly morbid, but utterly charming romantic comedy, and the second being a much more bleak work of direful, tragicomic satire. Many satires have the unfortunate flaw of paying much more attention to their message than the quality of their script, characters, and plot; "The Executioner" shares all of these traits. Beyond the black and social critiques, there are some highly likable characters and a flat-out amazing premise, satirical or not.

Chaotic, sad, and laugh-out-loud hilarious in equal measure, it is hard to determine whether "The Executioner" is a work that leaves an imprint of joy or sorrow. My reaction is one of both, for the ambiguous ending serves as both a punchline and a bone chilling reminder of the unpredictable tragedies hidden deep within the human experience.

I suppose the fact that this movie was made during the dictatorship of General Franco, when Spain did not register on any international cultural radars, accounts for the fact that it remains relatively unknown. In my opinion, this is not only the best film ever made by a Spanish director, but one of the best European films ever, and a masterpiece of dark comedy. It is a powerful indictment of the death penalty anywhere, and the scene in which proud and retiring executioner Amadeo sticks prospective son-in-law José Luis' fingers in the lamp fixture, thereby giving him a mild electric shock, remains an all-time classic ("You think that's bad? That's only 125 volts! The Americans are worse, with their electric chairs...")

This movie is stronger, deeper and funnier than any recent comedies by the likes of Pedro Almodóvar and other Berlanga-influenced Spanish directors, due to the bleaker political reality against which it was made. There is more directorial talent involved and the performances are stronger, with the glorious José Isbert stealing the show as always.

Times have improved in Spain, and filmmakers may have more freedom, but nothing as corrosive as this has been made since.

Here we have a tragicomedy about executions released in 1963, when executions and censorship did still exist in Spain. How did they do it...? I only can say... using their imagination. It has a really brilliant story, and a screenplay that combines in a so wise way the comic and dramatic/tragic aspects of the story. Also, the actors know at every moment what to do. As a result we find a really funny film, a really sad film... and a perfect recreation of the reaction of common people to a hard and dangerous epoque. A masterpiece in my opinion.