Pa negre

This year I saw "In a glass cage", another movie also written and directed by Agustí Villaronga from 1986 (considered one of the most disturbing films of all time), and the movie was so strong, fast and intense, that is hard not to compare with Black Bread. Black Bread is quite decent, it has a great way to handle mystery, and the characters (and their psychology) are very well developed. The portrait of the Spain that was living under the rules of Franco is also great, specially on the countryside. But knowing what Villaronga can do, I expected way more. The movie is over saturated with dialogs, there are way to many characters to follow the plot, and the ending was quite flat. Villaronga seems very skilled to handle themes that are considered taboo with a great taste but there was a lack of those themes in this movie. By the other hand, the point of view of a Spain post war mainly in children is great, same as the acting. So if you like mystery but you don't like to jump from your sit, then go for it.

This movie has given me the same feeling of what another Spanish movie, "The Labyrinth" did to me several years ago. The cinematography, the lighting, the shooting angles, the colors are just top notched, but the story itself is not as good as the aforementioned elements. There are so many weird and depressed moments in this movie, sometimes even a bit messy. It seems to me that the Spanish people are still deeply haunted by their civil war and could never walk away or walk out of it. This is a very depressive movie full of symbolism. The bird lover father and his caged birds in the attic. The awkward and always confused childhood of the son, the local police chief, the often helpless mother, the whole family clan, the weird and a bit crazy left-hand missing girl...The Spanish dialog is sometimes too quick to be absorbed and understood even with the English subtitle. The struggle of the poor, as always, fell prey to the rich and the powerful. The adults always told their kids that what they did, good or bad, right or wrong, are solely for their kids and it's disgusting. No wonder the kid finally realized what the adults said were nothing but lies. His self denial, rejection and his recognition in the end was an inevitable result, gloomy and hopeless. This is a very heavy movie, just like the heavy colors in this movie.

Agustí Villaronga's 'Pa Negre' has one of the most stupendously shot and chilling opening sequences I've seen among recent films. I wasn't aware of the hype surrounding it, including the fact that it had won many Goyas. A friend had recommended this film.

Set against the backdrop of postwar Catalonia, writer Emili Teixador weaves a complex tale of greed, betrayal, sacrifice and redemption. In a way, 'Pa Negre' is also a coming of age tale but a very dark one. Villaronga does an excellent job of bringing it to screen. His way of unfolding the story and uncovering the truth about the characters is done meticulously. It also provides some interesting historical insight that is less known to those not familiar with post-war Catalonia.

Moreover, the look of the film is quite authentic. The feel of the time seems to have been captured very well. The village and the stunning natural locations are are very real. Cinematography, editing and lighting are superb. The performances are sincere. Young actor Francesc Colomer does a fine job in leading the film. The rest of the actors are equally compelling.

'Pa Negre' opens with three brutal murders and ens with a child's realization of the dark truth that has changed him forever. Villaronga tells a disturbing tale of how war creates monsters even of those whom you've known all your life as loving beings with ideals.

Black Bread begins with a familiar scene: a man leads his horse and cart through a darkened wood, glancing around with unease at the various forest sounds which break the tense silence. A fairy-tale quality hangs over the scene, the images framed in wide angles and brought to life with rich autumnal hues; perhaps this will be a fantasy parable. When an assailant attacks the traveller, binds him in the cart, and leads the now-blindfolded horse to the cliff's edge, brutally smashing it in the face with a sledge hammer, our stomachs concomitantly fold alongside the illusion that this will be anything but sickeningly real. It is the first clue to us that we are not in for the easiest of rides; many of the images that will come to us will be disturbing, even distressing.

Set in the years following the Spanish civil war, the film portrays the lingering dissent and tarnished political atmosphere of a nation divided. Andreu—the young boy who discovers the wreckage and is caught up in the post-civil war world of deceit that grips his small village as he attempts to discover the truth behind the "accident"—is sent to live with his grandmother, aunt, and cousins when his father—having fought for the losing side along with the murdered man—is forced to flee in fear of his own life. Andreu's journey to discover what happened to the cart and its riders takes him into the darkness within his village, his family, and even himself.

It seems to me that there is a recurrent idea in modern Spanish-language cinema: to explore the issues of the civil war through the eyes of a child. Predating Black Bread, there are a number of films such as Butterfly's Tongue and Pan's Labyrinth which use the same concept. Examining the war through young eyes contextualises it, reducing it to its most fundamental perceptible elements and providing a fascinating perspective on (in the case of the former) the senselessness of condemning people by ideology alone and (the latter) the monstrousness of war and the frivolity of conflict. In a way, Black Bread achieves both of these things, though far more so the second. It demonstrates not the horror of war itself, but the horror of the people war creates; the capability for evil of those left living. The dark truths Andreu unearths are as horrifying as any war, the images he dreams up truly disturbing. The child protagonist is a proxy through whom we see things at their most stripped-down, basic, and shocking, exposing to us the sheer lunacy of humanity's follies. Surprising is the film's tackling of a particular societal issue which gradually becomes the centre of its comment upon our race, and the animalistic prejudices which, sadly, so often characterise us. Worth making mention of is the film's name, something of a motif referring to the secondary theme of class and social standing, commenting upon the sickening imbalance between the wealthy and the poor in times of hardship. Most films would do well to achieve half the depth Black Bread manages with this theme, and it is a secondary one.

A worthy addition to the fray of Spanish civil war dramas, Black Bread is a surprisingly dark and deep examination of war's effect upon the lives and personalities of those who suffer through it. Condemning the capability of ordinary people to do extraordinary evil, it is an impactful portrait of guilt, responsibility, society, and family.

This film swept the board at this year's Goyas (Spanish cinema awards), but after last years Cell 211 ( an enjoyable but unremarkable prison drama) did the same, I wasn't expecting too much.

I'd enjoyed Villaronga's disturbing Aro Tolbukhin, but I wasn't expecting this. One of the best opening sequences you'll see all year leads to a mystery, experienced through the eyes of one boy, that reveals lies, conspiracy and the dark secrets in the heart of a rural Catalan village a few years after the end of the Civil War.

It's magnificently done, and the performances of the children match those of actors such as Sergi Lopez (whose role echoes that in Pan's Labyrinth),Eduard Fernández and Marina Comas.

Scenes such as the boy's father instructing him to uphold his ideals and walk tall, or a powerless mother pleading her husband's innocence, are familiar from more commercial films. Here they are brutally undermined until nothing is left but pitiless self interest.

A chilling study of how war and poverty create monsters.