This commendable edition of the San Sebastián festival has been closed with a beautiful, luminous and tragic film.
The forgetfulness that we will be
, directed by Fernando Trueba and that adapts a novel by Héctor Abad Faciolince that I have not yet read, about which all those who have done it speak with trepidation.
Fernando liked very much, like all those who are not emotional frigid, the memorable Robert Mulligan film
To Kill a Mockingbird.
It was starred by a good, just, firm, tolerant, brave, rational man, defender of the rights of the weak, with vital wisdom.
And of the close relationship he had with his children.
It reminds me of the protagonist of
The forgetfulness that we will be.
Trueba talks about family happiness, the joy of living, that every god feels loved and accompanied.
And of loss, of death, through illness or murder, claiming its damned share of inconsolable pain.
It is encouraging that someone keeps talking about good feelings, so undervalued them.
Javier Cámara makes a masterful creation of that moving character, of someone who does not want or can not renounce to expose himself to the danger involved in defending the needy, asking for justice, looking for solutions, an honest, incomprehensible and humanist guy who the right considered a subversive and the radical left an ally of fascism.
It is a film that expresses very well varied feelings, which at times infects authentic emotion.
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I would like to dedicate more space to writing than I like, but the thankless obligation to comment on the record is imposed.
I've been visiting film festivals for 35 years.
In other words, I have regrettable experience in noting enough blunders and outright aberrations in awarding prizes.
But the Golden Shell to the Georgian film
, added the awards for best director, screenplay and actress, it throws me to hilarious extremes and I swear I have not ingested any substance that makes me hallucinate.
I have never considered extravagance as a virtue and I believe that idiocy is not something trivial, but very dangerous.
I was telling you the other day that I could only endure half of your footage.
That he needed to go outside and breathe after a ten-minute fixed shot showing the face of the protagonist lying on the grass and without it reflecting anything special.
In other words, maybe the remaining hour was the bomb, but I suspect that it is only suitable for masochists.
If this psychologist mess manages to be distributed in Spain by someone with a suicidal vocation and you see it, you could tell me the end.
It is possible that they shared my amazement.
And that they demanded the claims book.
The jury was presided over by Mr. Luca Guadagnino, author of a film that I find unbearable, even though he filmed a magnificent sequence (the final emotional conversation between the father and the son highlighting what really matters in life) in the cheesy pastry chef
Call Me By Your Name.
I mean, I can understand it considers a masterpiece of experimental, inentendible and dormitiva
I have seen two admirable films in the Official section.
And they will have a commercial premiere.
They will be able to verify what I affirm.
They are the Danish
, directed with overwhelming talent by Thomas Vinterberg and very well played by the disturbing Mads Mikkelsen and three other actors.
The other is the documentary
Clock Of Gold
, centered on who was the soul of The Pogues, Shane MacGowan.
They had to settle for the Danish Actors Quartet Award and the Special Jury Prize for Documentary.
They don't need accolades.
It will be enough for you to find a receptive audience, in possession of a palate.
Quality does not require the recognition of an insane jury.