Tardes de soledad

The movie is very repetitive and shows gruesome images of bulls being tortured to death. Over and over again. The main character gets praised for his "balls of steel", but obviously has some kind of deathwish. You can't help but question why this still happens today. You can't speak of a documentary, because it doesn't explain anything. Nothing about the history or the culture behind it, let alone the controversy around it. What I did get from the movie is the exhilarating feeling a torero must feel standing so close to an animal that dangerous. But I couldn't see past the stupidity of the practice to begin with. If you want to see this movie, only 30 minutes is enough. The rest is more of the same. There is better stuff to be seen.

At first I dismissed this movie, with its repetitive capturing of the spectacle of a Spanish bullfight, where the bull is already injured and certain to be killed in a brutal way. The documentary focuses on the hunter and the hunted, the dance of mortality and winner and loser. While the stadium audience cheers off-camera. The set-up reminded me of movies of Ancient Rome, like Gladiator, where the those who are about to die are thrown to the lions, the lions having the advantage, like the bullfighters here, and the stadium audience sitting in glee, and thrill as to whose blood will be spilled. We, the cinema audience, are also lulled into this dance of death, and the animal grunts (bull and matador), the posturing and angling (bull and matador), the aggression and intimacy of a fight to the death are repeated in various arenas and it is hypnotic. You don't want the matador to be injured, and yet he takes such risks.

So, I said that I almost dismissed this film, but as I have been thinking about it since, I feel Serra has captured very important themes in this very focused matador film. He captures the bravado and judgment and hubris of the hunter (the matador), where the opponent is "bad" and deserves to be killed. Take this male aggression out of the bull-fighting arena and you will see it all around the world, and it is cheered on when it is seen in leaders who belittle the "bad" guy or teach them a lesson. You might say that the animalistic side of human nature that wants blood, revenge and wants to take a victory lap and be applauded for such is captured.

The matador believe he is incredibly courageous ("you've got balls bigger than this stadium"), and his worth comes from this dance of death. I do not support and encourage aggression or bullying, so this was an insight into an atavism of male aggression that is celebrated in Spain in the bullfighting arena, and is perhaps representative of the bloody history of the country as well (the inquisition, the conquistadors killing many in the Americas in the name of their King and God). So, indirectly, Serra might be showing us a part of the soul of Spain and its still preserved rituals based on violence and aggression that are still celebrated.

A fine documentary about the world of bullfighting showing the reality of the bullfight, displayng colorful images and stunning close-ups of the two contenders in rhe ring: the torero and the Bull. It exposes the intimate experience of the bullfighter, his religiosity, and adoration of the Virgin Mary, his sacrifice and path to fame, his rites of dress and suit of lights, along with the assumption of the risk of facing a deadly duel as a personal duty, following a tradition that has been sustained por centuries. In fact, bullfighting, as an art form has already been profusely painted and praised by prestigious artists such as Goya, Picasso, Rafael Alberti, and many others. The director himself -who is not a bullfighting enthusiast- said he wanted to film it seriously and objectively, representing an aesthetic challenge for him. He attempts to accept it as it is, and show it in all its rawness and reality, including the gushing blood, as toro as toreador, and the harshness of the Plaza. According to some bullfighting critics, he is credited for portraying that world as it is, the naked truth.

The documentary faithfully portrays the splendid figure of the great bullfighter, Andrés Roca Rey as he faces the bull. His face , his grimaces, his face, as well as bull's bravery with its tirelessness in confronting the opponent in order to gore him. And it definitively shows a certain admiration that develops between bullfighter and beast. According to the director, there was a commmitment of the highest level on the part of the toreador Roca Rey. He states the film has not generated controversy or international rejection and is interesting in its own right as an anthropological document. The movie develops a beauty that emerges intermittently through a violent struggle between a man and a beast, both confronting each other to the death, one with his sword and the other with its sharp horns, a confrontation between animality brutality and human racionality.

For those of us who crave something different - truly different - Afternoons of Solitude grants that wish. Films like this don't come around often, and when they do, they tend to divide. Albert Serra's latest is no exception: challenging, hypnotic, and ultimately unforgettable.

The discomfort doesn't come from the bullfighting itself - at least not for me. I grew up in Spain, and bullfighting was part of the cultural fabric of my childhood. I've since come to reject the cruelty of it, but I can't help the nostalgia I feel remembering afternoons spent watching corridas with my father.

What makes Afternoons of Solitude so fascinating - and at times, hard to sit through - is the absence of narrative. Serra repeats the same bullfight, again and again, variations on a theme that grows heavier with each cycle. He's been explicit that repetition is the point - the very essence of the film.

Some critics argue that we shouldn't seek deeper meanings in this film beyond the pure recording of the human-animal fight. I disagree. When Serra calls the film "metaphysical" and says he's after whatever "truth" resides in bullfighting, you can't help but look beyond the frame.

At its core, this is a film about the human drive for perfection - that relentless, sometimes self-destructive instinct. The torero, elegant and precise, risks everything to touch transcendence. It reminded me, in its spiritual intensity, of Tarkovsky's Andrei Rublev - for those who may have seen it.

But across from the torero stands another protagonist: the bull. Maybe the only animal that will continue to charge under threat rather than flee. And it's that presence - powerful, unwilling, tragic - that stains the torero's pursuit. His art, his perfection, is built on the suffering and death of another. What is that if not a metaphor for humanity's endless ambition, achieved at the expense of nature?

And perhaps, despite the film's title, the afternoons of solitude aren't the torero's at all. Perhaps they belong to the bull - the loneliest figure in that arena.

To me, Afternoons of Solitude also echoes the moral confusion of the world we live in - how beauty, power, and image can distort our sense of right and wrong. As a member of the audience, you can't help but care for the torero, as you should. But in doing so, you almost forget who began this fight.

For those of us who long for something different-truly different-Afternoons of Solitude delivers that wish. Films like this are rare, and when they appear, they tend to divide. Albert Serra's latest work is no exception: defiant as a duel under the sun, hypnotic as a silent prayer, and unforgettable as a scar on memory.

Serra takes a risk-and wins-with tightly framed, deeply intimate shots that draw us into the drama unfolding in the sand. These are not mere images, but visions that burn into the retina: the brutal goring, the exact instant the sword seeks its mark. There is violence, yes, and there is blood, but never indulgence; instead, there's a raw, essential beauty that transcends the act itself.

Balanced between art and discomfort, Afternoons of Solitude is a work of cinematic freedom and a total immersive experience. A journey in which any viewer with sensitivity-even without a taste for bullfighting-will find a profound truth, as ancient as the ritual itself.