Erna Asatryan

I liked Rodrigo Sorogoyen’s The Beloved more than Joachim Trier’s Sentimental Value. Maybe Scandinavian cinema has never quite been my thing, or maybe Javier Bardem simply has the ability to light up any frame just by being in it.

Narratively, the two films are practically relatives: a celebrated director attempts to reconnect with the daughter he once abandoned by offering her a role in his new film. But while Trier’s film drew me into its family drama, what fascinated me about Sorogoyen’s was the nature of a director’s power.

This is a film about directorial tyranny in which the filmmaking itself occasionally borders on tyranny.

Sorogoyen throws the entire cinematic arsenal at us: everything from 8mm to 65mm film, from MiniDV to digital cinematography, from colour to black and white. Textures shift, aspect ratios change, and so does the camera’s relationship with the characters. This visual spectacle gradually becomes irritating, almost in sync with the escalating conflict between father and daughter. The audience is held hostage by the director’s vision, just as the characters are held hostage by Esteban’s temperament.

And Bardem’s Esteban is a charming tyrant. All it takes is a raised eyebrow or a lingering glance for paternal tenderness to turn into something vaguely threatening. He is used to controlling other people’s emotions, yet has absolutely no idea what to do with his own. A man capable of coaxing any performance out of an actor cannot find the right words for his own daughter.

He can direct any scene except the one in which they reconcile.

And therein lies the film’s central paradox, at least for me: Sorogoyen examines the director’s ego while seemingly taking immense pleasure in exercising his own power over the audience.

Can you make a film about directorial tyranny without turning it into a demonstration of your own?

#elserquerido #javierbardem