Critique : La niña de la cabra
par Júlia Olmo
- Ana Asensio présente un film beau et tendre sur la manière dont le regard innocent d'une enfant voit l'obscurité et le mystère de la vie
Cet article est disponible en anglais.
Madrid, 1988. Elena (a stunning Alessandra González in her big-screen debut) is coping with the recent loss of her grandmother while readying herself for her First Communion. Her friendship with Serezade (fellow first-timer Juncal Fernández), a girl who never parts from her goat, leads her to wonder whether the world really is exactly as she has been told. This is the story recounted in Goat Girl [+lire aussi :
bande-annonce
interview : Ana Asensio
fiche film], the sophomore film by Ana Asensio, following her surprising Most Beautiful Island [+lire aussi :
critique
bande-annonce
interview : Ana Asensio
fiche film], which earned her the Grand Jury Prize at Austin’s SXSW.
Presented at the 28th Málaga Film Festival and bolstered by a cast also featuring Lorena López, Javier Pereira and Enrique Villén, the movie, albeit less dark than her previous effort (a disturbing psychological thriller in which Asensio plunged into the misery of the flip side of the American Dream), talks about how the dark and mysterious sides of life are seen through the innocent eyes of a child. As part and parcel of this, it also broaches the clash between the worlds of children and adults, encompassing death, classism, racism (which is just another form of classism anyway), religion, faith, deception, cruelty, conventions, and social and emotional relationships, as seen from a girl’s perspective. And it just so happens that this very perspective constitutes the entire basis of the film and one of its sagest decisions. From start to finish, the director does not stray from the protagonist’s side as she depicts, from her point of view, the world around her, what she sees and how she sees it, what she thinks, what she feels, why she laughs or cries, and what her dreams and her nightmares are made of. In this way, she successfully and honestly captures the magic of childhood and the unique kind of mutual understanding that friendship entails at that time of life.
Through this story, and via certain costumbrist flourishes, the movie also emerges as a fascinating portrait of the childhood of a whole generation in late-1980s Madrid. We see the social housing with its typical green awnings and clothes hung out to dry, the games in the school playground, the allegiances and rivalries, the importance of family and unspoken social rules, the influence of religion on education, the blinding light and the sunsets in the city – a world that once was and which, at least in part, is no more.
This is all depicted in a simple, intimate and tender fashion, with certain flashes of melancholy regarding that lived childhood, through a voice-over that lends the feature a singular tone as a tale teetering between realism and fantasy, comedy and drama. “That was the last time I saw Serezade. The spectacle of the goat vanished from Madrid’s squares. And perhaps Serezade and her world never existed,” the voice ponders at a particularly revealing point.
Goat Girl proves that another kind of family film (besides the usual box-office smashes) is possible: it’s a family film that ventures beyond the obvious, is able to recount profound stories with levity and emotion, is able to get through to and be enjoyable for both kids and grown-ups, and will make us ask ourselves questions after the screening. It’s a movie that embodies what it sets out to be – sincere and beautiful.
Goat Girl is a co-production between Spain and Romania, staged by Aquí y Allí Films, La niña de la cabra AIE, Avalon and Avanpost, which is being sold overseas by Outsider Pictures (USA) and will be released in Spain on 11 April, courtesy of Avalon.
(Traduit de l'espagnol)
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