Auteur filmmaker Albert Serra captures the glorified gore of Spain’s bullfighting tradition
What drives a person to torture and kill a terrified creature that never meant them any harm? What brings a crowd to cheer at the sight of the most brutal and senseless animal abuse? What drives politicians to defend such cruel customs? Albert Serra’s mesmerizing meditation on the Spanish tradition of bullfighting presents a provocative position on these complex questions without any of the exposition one might expect from a documentary on such a contentious issue. Bullfighting has a long tradition in Spain, going back to gladiator fights, and has provoked strong opinions for the longest part of that time.
Serra makes a point of his neutrality. His purely observational work uses no commentary, interviews, texts, exposition or background information. Only the raw force of its bright-colored images. While the popularity of bullfighting declines, the figure of the matador continues to fascinate. The Catalan director is clearly driven by this obsession. Almost every scene is centered around the successful Peruvian bullfighter Andrés Roca Rey. Even the few brief moments when he’s not physically present are dominated by his persona. All conversations revolve around him. All attention is directed towards him. The camera’s gaze is transfixed on Rey, often cutting off other figures who are only visible as limbs reaching into the frame.
Serra’s regular cinematographer Artur Tort captures every movement and gesture of the young star. His deadly dance with the bull appears both ugly and technically refined, hyperbolic and hypnotic, crude and bizarrely elegant. The crisp images fetishize the events in the arena and simultaneously deconstruct them as a practiced performance. Its ritualized nature appears to extend into Rey’s life outside the arena. Serra only shows his protagonist right before and immediately after a fight, performing religious practices and having the same word-exchanges with his male posse of picadors (subaltern fighters who provoke the bull before the actual fight). In these moments Rey’s pompous pride gives way to a painfully fragile male ego.
His pals have to assure him constantly of his grandness. He’s the best fighter of them all. Did you see that move? Superhuman! What bravery! A living legend. He has the biggest balls. The flattering goes to almost ridiculous lengths. Rey inhales it like the air he breathes, looking as if he would crumble the second his pals stop their constant compliments. The machismo and verbal bravado of this exclusively male cosmos curiously contrast with the matador’s opulent attire. By modern standards, his eroticizing outfit seems frilly and feminine: form-fitting tights, pink over-knee socks, a skin-tight bodice, a tiny jacket adorned with sequins.
A scene showing Rey partially dressed in his costume assumes almost homoerotic overtones that link his hyper-masculine image to a relaxed, comfortable and playful idea of masculinity, endless away from the violence and traditionalism Rey incorporates. The rigid focus creates a rare intimacy between the audience and the film’s subject, even in the presence of a large crowd. The unmoving images never dilute the extreme brutality of the bullfight, its hypnotic horror and sublimed sadism. Contrary to the picadors glorifying descriptions, there’s nothing noble or brave about it. Far from the vicious beasts which they are called, the intimidating bulls are peaceful beings.
The picadors mercilessly torture and provoke the frightened creatures to charge into an unfair fight. Close-ups capture the bulls’ panicked gaze and pain-stricken frenzy as unflinching as the matador’s feverish rage. It’s he who is lost in a kill-craze, not the anguished animals. While they are still breathing, their horns are cut off before their battered bodies get dragged away. Fight after fight these scenes repeat themselves. Yet, they never lose their disturbing power. By totally immersing itself in its bloody subject matter, Serra’s intense scrutiny transcends its controversial theme. Undeniable effective, Afternoons of Solitude ruminates the intoxicating power of violence and sadistic spectacle – a spectacle Serra’s own work takes part in.
- OT: Tardes de soledad
- Director: Albert Serra
- Screenplay: Albert Serra
- Year: 2025
- Distribution | Production © Lacima Productions
