Blancanieves

I saw a beautiful film today called "Blancanieves" (which is the Spanish translation of 'Snow White'). It was shown as part of the 2013 'Ebertfest' film festival here in Champaign, Illinois. Going into the movie, I was a little skeptical because the only thing I knew about it was that it was an 100 + minute silent film in black and white. I feel like that's enough to make even (hardcore) (amateur) film buffs (like myself) get a little antsy. But, it was being shown in the recently renovated Virginia Theater, an old movie hall from the 1920's, complete with organ, ornately decorated balconies and intricate murals depicting muses, great artists and other artistic inspiration scrawled across the ceiling, and so ultimately, my curiosity, about the movie and the interior of the Virginia, provided sufficient impetus. As it turns out, it would the perfect place to watch a film like this and the perfect way to frame this particular experience.

Written and directed by Basque filmmaker Pablo Berger, "Blancanieves" is a homage to the timelessness of fairy tales and the silent films popular around the time of the Virginia's construction. Sr. Berger combines these two elements to create a base story that he uses to create a foundation from which he creates a very Spanish tale about bullfighting and redemption. The (almost) personal nature of the storyline, as well as nods to Spanish culture and the full spectra of emotions exhibited by the characters induce in viewers the feeling that this is an intimate and lovingly created work,  a view readily expressed/confirmed by the writer/director. It is a little too long but you get the sense that it has been cut down to what Berger believes to be it's absolute core and that the doting director may not be willing to let anything else go. In his pre-film introduction speech, he admitted to the audience that the movie had taken him eight years (as well as the loss of much of his hair (sacrificial offering?)) to create. As far as I'm concerned, it was well-worth the extraordinary effort. 

I won't talk much about the movies plot because any written recap of it wouldn't do the film justice. It has to be seen to be fully appreciated. It is a silent film after all; by definition, it must be seen to be understood.

 Instead, I'll share another anecdote from the screening: right before the film began, the director ended his speech by imploring everyone in the audience to turn off our phones and let ourselves be immersed in the experience because, in his words,  "...to see a film is to live the life of another person, to dream while awake". He ended his speech by wishing us, "happy dreams and sweet nightmares".  

A few thoughts I will share: I thought the film was perfectly cast. It is filled with actors who belong in a silent film, performers who are not limited (but liberated, almost) by the lack of dialogue.  Maribel Verdu (the nurse from "Pan's Labyrinth) embraced the role of the evil stepmother to delicious, almost eery perfection. Similarly brilliant/beautiful was Macarena Garcia's eager, emotive, energetic, youthful and full-hearted take on the titular character. And since I have a special place in my heart for memorable faces/particularly well-cast character roles and actors (I call it the "Steve Buscemi Zone"), I'd be remiss not to offer a tip of my cap to Josep Maria Pou, in the role of "Don Carlos", the sinister and manipulative bull fighting agent, a small but ultimately pivotal role. And it is truly amazing the range of emotions that Daniel Gimenez Cacho, as renowned bullfighter "Antonio Villalta", is able to express with just his eyes. 

The last thing I want to comment is Berger's use of the antiquated medium of black and white film. I Through his choice of medium, he makes us realize the beauty of light and the vital role that it (and it's manipulation) plays in creating something that is visually arresting. "Blancanieves" is a tribute to the beauty of light. The film's silvery monochrome glows and glitters, alleviating and helping set the tone for the film's many joyous moments. It's foils, shadow and darkness, play an equally important role: menacing, consuming, drawing the audience into the characters' moments of despair and melancholy.

It's kind of ironic, actually: by eliminating color, Berger allows us to literally "see the light" in all it's glorious radiance. As such, the nuances of illumination help create an extra element, a meaning-carrying component of the film that is an indispensable element of it's character. 

Here is the trailer.  Watch it with the knowledge that it does the full film little justice. Hopefully it will pique your curiosity, at least. If it does, go see the film and give yourself over to a waking dream.