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.

I saw this film at Noordelijk Filmfestival 2011 (in Leeuwarden, province of Friesland NL). We know very little details from the Spanish civil war, and the period after that under Franco. Our history lessons did not cover it at all. But we could deduce a broad overview from the ingredients that were offered to us throughout the developments in this film. History lessons were passed to us along the line, piece by piece.

A lot of characters are introduced in the story, none of them redundant, even the minor roles have their place and cannot be left out. Their evenly dosed appearances were always understandable, never letting us feel overwhelmed. I was very happy this to be different from some costume dramas, where the viewer looses control and cannot remember how all these persons relate to each other and how they fit in the plot. No problems like that in this case.

Our sympathies with the main characters had to move from time to time, given new facts coming to light, or new suspicions that were seeded by not-so-innocent bystanders. Choices that seemed apparent at first, changed perspective from time to time. I eagerly followed those new directions, and could not escape from the story line (even if I wanted to). It definitely proves that I got involved in the motives of the characters. Well done, obviously having an ingeniously constructed script to work from.

All in all, I found the 108 minutes spent very well. The story has much drive, and its outcome cannot be predicted, maintaining the whodunit tension throughout. Also, the film shows several characters to have a better side, in spite of making a negative impression at first, for instance the school teacher. Reasons enough that the film can be attractive for a broad audience. However, I fear that the "official" announcement text won't work on the casual reader.

Black Bread is an elaborate Catalan Spanish ghost story which begins with a hooded man driving a horse drawn carriage through the woods where he attacks Dionis and his son Culet and kills them by leading the horse off a cliff blind folded. A witness, Andreu, an 11 year old boy goes back to town to report the incident. Farriol, who is the partner of Dionis and also Andreu's father is the lead suspect in the murder, due to his previous opposition to Franco during the war. The mayor was in love with Farriol's wife, Florencia, which creates bad blood until Farriol is forced to leave Spain for France. Andreu's grandmother works for the richest family in the area.

Now things become really complicated. Andreu becomes friends with a tb patient from a monastery who runs around believing that he has wings. Florencia convinces the wealthy woman to take in her son Andreu as a sort of step child in order to have a better life with education at a private school. More mysteries unfold concerning an old murder and Black Bread proves to be an interesting drama.

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.

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.