(texto elaborado para el blog del Indiana University Cinema de
Bloomington (Indiana, EE. UU.) con motivo de la proyección el 27 de agosto de
2017 de la película 'Loreak', organizada a petición mía por el Departamento de
Español y Portugués de la IU, el Instituto de Estudios Europeos de la IU y el
Indiana University Cinema)
The day that Loreak / Flowers (Jon
Garaño & Jose Mari Goenaga, 2014) was selected by the Spanish Film Academy
to represent the country at the 2016 Oscars, many people could not resist using
the term ‘historical.’ For the first time, Spain would be represented at the
Oscars by a Basque-language film. Prior to Loreak,
Basque cinema had frequently been relegated to local consumption, released at
the smallest venues, and often produced for broadcast on local TV
channels. To reach a larger national market, Basque-language films were
often dubbed into Spanish.
Yet, with Loreak, things
were different. A midsize production with a €1.7 million budget and which was
supported by small production companies and the Basque Government, Loreak achieved a higher
impact thanks to the San Sebastian International Film Festival. The festival,
Spain’s most prestigious, chose Loreak as an
official selection in its 62nd edition in 2014. And while the San Sebastian
International Film Festival takes place in one of the most well-known cities of
the Basque Country, Loreak’s inclusion
was the first time a Basque-language film reached the festival’s top category
and competed with films directed by revered filmmakers, such as Bille August,
Susanne Bier, Mia Hansen-Løve, or Christian Petzold.
Despite not garnering any awards in San Sebastian, the
film had the most auspicious release. Loreak was
also selected at the Zurich Film Festival, the BFI London Film Festival, the
Jeonju International Film Festival and the Palm Springs International Fest,
where it won the Cine Latino Award. The film was exhibited commercially in New
York, Washington, Philadelphia, Los Angeles, and Chicago, and it also premiered
in countries, such as Greece and Israel.
Although Loreak was
not a great success when it was released nationally in Spain, the film was exhibited
in several cities with Spanish subtitles and not dubbed, as has traditionally
been the case with films produced originally with Catalan, Galician, or Basque
dialogue. However, Loreak’s
unprecedented run culminated in its selection as Spain’s submission for the
Foreign Language Film category at the 88th Academy Awards, and two nominations
for the Goyas, the Spanish Film Academy’s awards. One of the Goya nominations
was even for Best Picture. A sudden wave of pride and euphoria spilled into the
streets of Bilbao, San Sebastian, and many other cities in the Basque Country.
Loreak affords
a particular satisfaction for audiences in the Basque Country: the film elides
politics. Instead, the film relies on a solid script that focuses on women in
the contemporary Basque Country and their struggles with death, hidden love,
mourning, remembrance, and family ties. As Jay Weissberg wrote in Variety right after watching
the film at the San Sebastian Film Festival, “If Joe Mankiewicz were alive, one
could imagine him wanting to remake Flowers, with its
poignantly old-fashioned premise that also comments on contemporary society.”
Loreak might
be defined as elegant, smooth, or subtle, or for how the film embodies
transnational film aesthetics. Yet, the film’s dialogue is composed of one
of the rarest languages in Europe. Basque is a language isolate; it is believed
to be one of the few surviving pre-Indo-European languages in Europe and is
unrelated to other languages. Basque is ancestral to the Basque people, who live
in a region extending from the Western Pyrenees to the coast of the Bay of
Biscay, including parts of Spain and France. This region includes cities such
as Biarritz (in southwestern France), San Sebastian, Bilbao, and Pamplona,
among others. Although Basque has been forced to exist alongside more dominant
languages, such as Spanish and French, Basque has survived through the
centuries. A case in point: Francisco Franco forbade the use of Basque during
his decades-long dictatorship, yet the use of Basque has grown since Franco’s
death.
There is a new generation of Basque filmmakers who can no
longer go to Madrid to seek support for big productions. Unless a film title
appears alongside the names of Pedro Almodóvar, Santiago Segura, or Juan
Antonio Bayona, big budget productions are not feasible in Spain these days.
The flourishing of Spanish cinema that transpired during the 1980s and 1990s
is gone. Young directors from the Basque Country are diverging from the
paths set by other Basque filmmakers, such as Montxo Armendariz, Julio Medem, or
Álex de la Iglesia, who were able to secure financial support from Spanish
producers, institutions, and, more generally, television companies in order to
produce their films.
However, alternative approaches to film production in the
Basque Country have proven successful. It is not a bad moment for Basque films.
Although any triumphalism would be absurd, in the midst of a national financial
crisis Basque cinema has emerged owing to the courage of independent filmmakers
and producers and the committed support of the Basque Government for
audiovisual productions shot in the Basque language.
Among contemporary Basque films, Loreak sits at the
forefront. Amama / When a Tree Falls (Asier
Altuna, 2015) is another Basque-language movie screened outside of the Basque
Country. Both films take place in the Basque Country and deal with Basque
heritage. Moreover, the films suggest a localized aesthetic that nevertheless
deals with universal themes. A similar dynamic is at play in other films, such
as the riveting non-fiction film Emak Bakia baita / The Search
for Emak Bakia (Oskar Alegria, 2012), which focuses on
vanguard artist Man Ray’s experience in the northern part of the Basque Country
during the 1920s, and the Kaurismäki-esque bitter comedy Pikadero (Ben Sharrock, 2015).
Likewise, anthology films promoted by Zinebi, the International Festival of
Documentary and Short Film of Bilbao, have allowed young directors, like Maddi
Barber, Aitor Gametxo, Maria Elorza or Maider Fernández Iriarte, to develop
their talent and show the Basque Country in novel ways.
All the aforementioned Basque films have one additional
point in common: they deliberately ignore the political weight that has long
lingered over all films, songs, books, and speeches coming from the Basque
Country. The films emerge at a crucial historical moment that is only a short
remove from the 2010 announcement that the armed Basque separatist movement,
ETA, would cease acts of violence. At present, unprecedented reconciliation
efforts among various political groups within the Basque region are unfolding.
Akin to the decisions among those distinct political groups, Basque culture and
film try to strengthen bridges to bring together this plural community.
