Welcome to the sixth of the chronicles that we will dedicate day after day to the 69th edition of the Seminci – Valladolid International Film Week, the second that a server will cover for El Séptimo Arte. 'The ghost network' – Something like a more minimalist, restrained and I suppose also more realistic (and not at all gimmicky) version of the 'Munich' by Steven Spielberg in which a young Syrian, after leaving the Saydnaya military prison, takes refuge in Europe, where he becomes part of a secret group dedicated to pursuing fugitive leaders of the regime. Jonathan Millet's film is an espionage thriller that is somewhat reminiscent of 'Infiltrator Office'; at least in a rigorous, sober and contained formal approach that emphasizes dramatic issues and not violence or tension that, for example, also occurs in 'The red rooms'are always present between the lines, and beating in a hidden way but they are never given free rein or allowed to take over the story. Far from falling into sensationalist clichés, Millet assumes the necessary distance and infuses tension into each sequence through the face of Adam Bessa, resulting in a tense political denunciation that reflects the harsh social reality of a country marked and divided by war. ******* 'Harvest' – Athina Rachel Tsangari's new film aims to be a somewhat disconcerting poetic fable. And to a large extent it is, although not in the way it is proposed or in the best of senses. And the same thing happens to the filmmaker that sometimes happens with filmmakers like M. Night Shyamalan, and that is that they put the artist and his signature before the work and common sense. As if they could never resort to jack, knight and king. Get straight to the point. If we add to that that Tsangari fails to link its ingredients together, we find a stew “with things” whose intended confusion turns into confusion. In a string of loose moments that, despite some powerful images, add up to a disjointed, inexpressive and irregular narrative that works in fits and starts without satisfactorily resolving any of its conflicts and whose apparent dirtiness, furthermore, lacks the viscerality and rawness necessary to provoke or bother the viewer (as, for example, Paul Verhoeven did in 'The Lords of Steel'). And, in short, it feels like a performance… ****** 'The last breath' – Costa-Gavras is 91 years old. And not by chance, this adaptation of the book written by the philosopher Régis Debray and the doctor Claude Grange about how to face “the end of life” in a dignified way is the type of film that someone who is 91 years old would make. It can be considered an anthology film with very little margin for error, although calling it a film is perhaps a little too big. And, although it may sound bad to say it this way, Costa-Gavras seems to be facing and/or assuming his reality rather than telling a story, in what seems like a somewhat better packaged seminar than the typical self-help video and/or institutional. Filmed with the sobriety and functional solvency of a filmmaker who has spent a lifetime dedicated to cinema, but without a dramatic or emotional progression that gives it meaning or cinematic purpose. A succession of comics and entertaining conversations that can intermittently inspire, but that as a whole do not attract more attention than a newspaper clipping or a press release can. ****** 'Holy Cow' – Let's start from this base: It is a hardly credible naturalistic story in which, for example, an 18-year-old boy without work, studies or income and who only knows how to drink beer takes care of a 7-year-old girl without him no one says anything. Or that he wants to participate in a demanding agricultural competition without even having read the rules… even though one of his best friends pawns his car so he can do it (and then, by the way, recover it without anyone explaining how). It doesn't matter: Let's accept octopus as a pet for the good of the cause. What cause? That of a 'coming of age' cheesemaker that does not stand out for anything in particular. It's pleasant, it's easy to see, it flows lightly and it's appreciated that it doesn't overdo the drama, being essentially a light comedy (dangerously close to “remakeable”). Or rather, an entertaining comedy with a certain charm but that is too simple, direct, classic and outlined to survive the moment and take root in memory. ******
