Features – International / UK Premiere

Showing @ Filmhouse 1, Sun 19 June @ 22:15 & George Square Theatre, Mon 20 June @ 22:30

Álex de la Iglesia / Spain, France / 2010 / 107 min / Spanish with English subtitles

What perennial award-winner Álex de la Iglesia manages to unearth in this picturesque Spanish cult movie is how much the circus acts as a staunch metaphor for our modern, emotive lifestyles. Relationships are the tightrope, work and play the juggling act and lion-taming befits our finances – all nimbly satirised in a film surrounding clowns (too soon for a JP Morgan gag?) Opening in 1937, a clown is thrown into chaos fighting against rebels during the Spanish Civil War armed only with a machete (I say machete, it’s more a samurai sword). Skipping forward to 1973, the film largely follows his son Javier (Carlos Areces) who devotes his life to becoming a sad clown to reflect the horrors of his childhood while in the throes of a surreal love triangle with fellow performers Sergio (Antonio de la Torre) and Natalia (Carolina Bang).

The film is clearly aware of its absurdity, with early scenes of blisteringly gratuitous violence shading the comical, displaying a certain de-sensitisation to bloodshed and death. As Javier falls deeper in love with Natalia while circumventing the wrath of psychotic Sergio, the scenarios become all the more ludicrous – from Javier’s rejection into the wild to his return equipped with machine guns and rifles. And this is where Iglesia’s craftsmanship comes into play as he riddles these absurd episodes with tragedy, from the bleakness of Javier’s career to his plunge into insanity. At times the film can drift into complete illogicality as it seems to just get lost in its own violence, but behind this is Iglesia’s ability to project extracts of consequence, creating huge plot jumps while mirroring the frenzied fickleness behind our wants and desires. Propping up the film’s labyrinth storyline is the comic-like beauty in which it’s shot; from spinning camerashots and slow-motion sequences to ethereal dream-states tinted with white lustre, it’s a skill which Iglesia has practiced since childhood, cajoling us to accept its gripping madness. If you’re willing to go with it, it’s a journey which energises and enchants while upsetting and distressing.