THE STORY – After years of estrangement, an acclaimed director and his daughter, a struggling actress, make a movie together and are forced to confront a troubled past neither of them has wanted to face.
THE CAST – Javier Bardem, Victoria Luengo, Melina Matthews, Marina Foïs & Malena Villa
THE TEAM – Rodrigo Sorogoyen (Director/Writer) & Isabel Peña (Writer)
THE RUNNING TIME – 135 Minutes
Cinema is filled with self-reflective films about the very act of filmmaking. Since humans have been making movies, we’ve been making movies about making movies. The latest in this vein is Rodrigo Sorogoyen’s “The Beloved,” with a compellingly intimidating Javier Bardem starring as a director of the movie being made within the film. Sorogoyen delivers a takedown of the ruthless-auteur stereotype, as Bardem’s character is forced to reckon with his bad reputation as a difficult artist in a modern world that no longer tolerates such behavior. Complicating matters is the fact that he’s chosen to cast his actual estranged daughter in a lead role, with this personified representation of his past played by the fantastic Victoria Luengo. Sorogoyen’s film meanders, and some of his visual flourishes are more puzzling than profound. Still, the two lead performances and one superb scene later in the film elevate the entire affair.
Bardem plays director Esteban Martínez, a multiple Oscar winner and Palme d’Or recipient (a brief visual revelation that, considering where the film is premiering, makes for a great inadvertent gag). After making a splash 30 years before the events of this film with his incendiary directorial debut, he eventually left his homeland of Spain for Hollywood, falling into both that moviemaking system and a marriage with an American woman. Now, he’s returned to his native land to make a film that he hopes will bring him acclaim once again. “The Beloved” opens with a prolonged conversation between Esteban and his adult daughter Emilia, whom he left behind in Spain along with her mother (who was also the star of his first film). Their lunch meeting, composed of a series of tight, dual close-ups of their faces, is awkward at first and quickly turns fiery as they reestablish a hostile bond, arguing over Esteban’s past instances of poor parenting. But despite this tense reunion, the next time we see Emilia and Esteban is on the set of his next film. They’re both working on it, just on opposite sides of the camera.
Although the rest of “The Beloved” takes place entirely during the duration of this film shoot, it’s not really about the movie that they’re making. Instead, it’s about what its production means for the father-daughter pair. Notably, the actual filming process gets much less screentime than one might think, given the plot description of “The Beloved.” Just as much time, if not more, is spent watching the cast and crew interact behind the scenes and at their hotel.
Still, cinephiles will revel in the scenes that we do see of moviemaking in action. Sorogoyen never hides the technical elements and tools of the trade, with background actors getting just as much time on-camera as, say, the boom operator. In fact, the film’s unquestionable highlight comes later in its runtime, during a difficult shoot of what should be a fairly standard meal scene. Some of the actors come down with a severe case of the giggles, leading Esteban’s temper to quickly escalate as he grows more and more frustrated with each ruined take. Bardem is sensational in this scene, as he struggles not to let the old Esteban come to the surface. But Emilia is immediately apprehensive when her fellow performers start goofing off, aware from firsthand experience of just how aggressive her father can get. Just as nervous are select members of the crew, who clearly have heard hearsay about Esteban’s history as a tyrannical director. Even if the filmmaker has made an effort to put that past behind him, the rest of the world and his industry peers haven’t.
As the scene continues to fall apart and voices are raised, Sorogoyen smartly ratchets up the intensity of the editing style, with the cuts coming fast and frequent. This is also the one part of the film where Sorogoyen’s showy shooting choices make thematic sense. Throughout the film, he has a fondness for switching up the specifics of the image presentation: the aspect ratio expands and contracts, film stock is ostentatiously varied, and occasional black-and-white cinematography is used. It’s not always identifiable what the intended effect is; for instance, it seems like color drains mostly during more introspective moments, but that’s not always the case. But in the disastrous film shoot set piece, the mania with which Sorogoyen deploys his wide array of visual alterations makes the audience feel as harried as the characters. It’s a spectacular scene, and reason enough for the film to exist, even if the rest of the movie feels more repetitive and less inspired.
Luengo makes an excellent scene partner for Bardem. She’s intensely bottled up, keeping her emotions mostly below the surface, just as her father tries to do. The one moment where she allows herself to loosen up occurs when she believes her father isn’t present, entertaining friends with a raucous story while Esteban surreptitiously watches on. And in one scene, she hilariously screws up her face in a perfect imitation of Bardem’s famous mug. This moment is made even more resonant by the fact that Sorogoyen lets his camera repeatedly push in on Bardem’s face, lingering there as his expressions subtly alter.
“The Beloved” breaks down the myth of the all-powerful auteur, smartly using a personal angle that anyone with a parent will recognize. All things considered, it’s a low-stakes affair, but it’s a fascinating examination of the creative process and how art can wander away from its intended purpose when unwanted emotions come into play. It’s always worthwhile to try to mend past grievances, but that doesn’t guarantee an easy journey, as Rodrigo Sorogoyen makes clear.
