Passable witches and forgettable loves

Despite my agnosticism, not believing in gods or devils that roam heaven and hell (if there is the one with the horns and the tail only lives on earth, it has a father and mother, it is powerful to the point of nausea and its relentless work consists of always screwing around the weak), movies about Lucifer and his gang make me nervous.

The bad ones, which are the vast majority, but also the good ones.

I can only see that masterpiece titled

if I'm in good company.

And yet, I went through notable anguish.

And I was impressed when I was very young

by Carl Theodor Dreyer and the

by Murnau.

• A mild Allen and the very credible 'Homeland'

Consequently, I prepare myself to receive scares with

, a Basque film, partially spoken in Basque, directed by the Argentine Pablo Agüero, and which narrates the hunting and torture that the kingdom's powers undertake, that is, judges, priests and the army, against a group of village girls accused of witchcraft, of riding

, of being possessed.

These innocent people, unable to escape from the stake, must invent the rituals and goals of their spells to prolong their survival.

And the morbidness of the head of the inquisitors gets very horny listening to the carnal testimony of the false witch.

The visual aspect of

is far-fetched and gloomy (although it is foolhardy to talk about photography when the glasses are almost always foggy) and the intrigue takes a long time to work.

At first I have little interest in these vital and singing young women and their grim hunters.

I don't care about his present and his future.

But then things start to happen, the oral and gestural battle between victims and executioners acquires a certain interest, I enter the plot.

The Evil One does not appear.

And it is to be appreciated that there are no blows of effect, those resources so easy and abusive.

What a grief I get from that infamous profession of witch hunters and witch hunters.

Now the burning on the pyre is banished.

There are more refined ways to destroy the existence of sinners.

At the beginning of

the protagonist warns us that he is going to talk about a corpse and death.

That we disconnect if we do not feel like those topics.

And taking into account the twisted personality of director François Ozon, I am tempted to run away.

But the sense of responsibility prevails and I stay until the end.

But I do not participate in the sentimental intensity and the emotional complexity of the tragic love story, or sex, or whatever it is between a boy with multiple uncertainties and a need for absolute surrender and another more vivid one who enjoys both sexes, who does not you want exclusive emotional commitments.

I know that Ozon's mind likes perversion, schizoid behaviors, transgressive moral codes.

On occasion that universe can be disturbing to me.

Here I do not care about the passions and reproaches of its characters.

I am so absent from

that the memory of

assails me

, that romantic love story between a dreamy and very credible adolescent and the beautiful widow, directed by the excellent and never sufficiently vindicated Robert Mulligan.

There are all kinds of summers.

Ozon's leaves me indifferent or yawning at some point.