Spanish Cinema Now. 6.

According to the IMDb, Casual Day is the first film by Max Lemcke (he was cinematographer on the 2004 film Bem-Vindo a São Paulo). This can cut two ways: The movie is something of an accomplishment for a first-time filmmaker; yet, little wonder it's so flawed. Both assessments would be on the mark. From the program description provided about the film, a viewer might expect something similar to The Method, Marcelo Piñeyro's bright, black comedy about applying for a position at a famed multinational firm. While the company at the center of Lemcke's movie appears to be privately owned, this does not make the nastiness or betrayal any easier to take.

Unlike The Method, which was full of wit, daring and surprise, Casual Day telegraphs almost everything it has to say so far in advance that, by the end, you may be humming, in disbelief, "Is That All There Is?" The owner of the company is a nasty piece of work posing as Mr Good Guy; his second in command is a bully; employees are either frightened sheep or sleazy camp-followers. Every underling is complicit is his or her own downfall, and hanging on to supremacy is the name of the game. And the games - literal and figurative - that are played along the way provide some fun but little that we have not seen elsewhere.

As a dyed-in-the-cotton (it's lightweight and less itchy) leftist, I usually embrace movies that detail abuse of power in our capitalist society. But in this case I didn't buy most of what I witnessed. Even though - and here we get to the good stuff - Lemcke has assembled a fine cast, all of whom do their usual "pro" job - from Luis Tosar (Take My Eyes) as the bully, Juan Diego (Your Next Life) as the boss, Estíbaliz Gabilondo (Traumalogía) as the best friend, and Javier Ríos (new to me) as the boyfriend. The excellent Marta Etura (Nobody's Life) opens the movie with an absolutely terrific scene that lays out much of what lies in store - though we don't know this yet. Oddly, her scene with Ms Gabilondo is so rich and immediate, full of subtlety, humor and the bizarre, that the rather plodding and obvious tale that follows seems almost a waste.

Spanish comedy is so far served rather poorly by this year's festival, which in the past has offered delights from Alex de la Iglesia and Joaquín Oristrell. To add to the disappointment of Chef's Special comes an even stranger brew: Crazy aka Desperate Women (Enloquecidas) from Juan Luis Iborra. During most of the movie, I was certain that this must be the director's first experience at handling a movie camera or writing a script, so lame seemed what appeared on screen. But no: When I looked up Iborra's resume, I found he had written and directed a number of films I'd very much liked - including one of my favorite romantic comedy ensembles, Km.0. (On that movie, Iborra worked with a co-writer/director, Yolanda García Serrano, and this may be what made the difference.)

His new film provides roles for several of Spain's popular older actresses: Verónica Forqué, Concha Velasco and Asunción Balaguer, as well as for some attractive younger ones like Silvia Abascal and one red-hot male, Iván Sánchez. Everyone does what's necessary for the job, and there are even a few genuine laughs along the way, though I swear, they may have you wondering if the writer/director was even remotely involved in producing them - so quiet and unlike most of his film are these odd moments. (The best comes as Ms Forqué, clad in an S&M leather hood, simply sits, her eyes darting nervously, in the back seat of a car.)

Mr Iborra's plot, co-written with Antonio Albert, has to do with plants, public works, real estate, love and an older couple (the movie's oddest characters) who become involved in the goings-on. I generally enjoy Ms Forqué and some of the others on view, particularly Ms Velasco, and they come through with their reputations still intact. The program notes inform us that Crazy's costume designer, Pepe Reyes, won an award for his work, which led me to believe that we would see some eye-poppingly fun attire. No: He simply clad his leading ladies, several of whom are in their weight-gaining years, in attractive (and what some of us call) "forgiving" garments.

Even given its lax style and wit, Crazy proved more enjoyable for me than did Chef's Special. The latter I now realize is less an example of mainstream Spanish moviemaking that it is an elongated version of mainstream Spanish television. The former, at least, in its pedestrian manner, seems more like a sfilm.

Posted by dwhudson at December 16, 2008 1:39 PM