Dir/Wri: Albert Serra | Spain/Portugal Doc, 125′
Albert Serra is best known for his intricate dramas: The Catalan auteur has won awards for, Story of My Death (2013), Last Days of Louis XIV (2016) Pacification. Now he turns his camera on reality with this romantically entitled observational documentary.
In fact there’s nothing remotely romantic about the vainglorious sport of bullfighting. But despite its demure title Afternoons of Solitude is a difficult to watch with its prolonged focus on extreme animal cruelty. The powerful, confused bull has no intent but to defend itself from the vicious jibes of a highly-trained and courageous chancer.
Peruvian bullfighter Andres Roca Rey, 28, is now at the top his game. A tall, rangy, alpha male he is surrounded by acolytes to aid and abet his performance in the ring. One of them describes the traits of the next bull on his killing list: “enough!” is his peremptory reply. He is the master, the macho male, all primped and suave in his impeccable outfit.
Not for nothing that the bullfighter’s costume is called the “traje de luces” (suit of lights): In an homoerotic episode in Madrid’s Ritz Hotel we see him lifted into his skin tight suit by his male valet. Stepping into highly polished pumps, delicately braided pompoms clasping his slender shins are secured with a silver ‘dagger’. Coiffed black hair is slicked back to reveal chiselled cheekbones, an ivory rosary dangling around his neck. The immaculate elegance of it all in contrast to the sweaty bestiality of the bull. And always a kiss and a prayer for the Virgin Mary.
Once in the ring, DoP Artur Tort Pujol captures the intimacy of the choreography between bull and matador, each glance a telling insight into the killer’s macho psyche. A peacock intent on subjecting a bull to a reign of psychological pain and torture – for no other reason than his own personal gratification and preternatural pride posing as ‘duty’. There are no commentaries or interviews. Back in the safely of his black limousine Andres basks in the glory of his victory, the adoration, boosted by compliments from his male entourage, he nurses his wounds with insouciance. The camera focuses on fleeting facial expressions providing ample insight into his dominance and his respect for the ancient tradition.
Yet bullfighting doesn’t come without its dangers for the matador. He must place himself in constant peril to gratify the crowd, goading the beast nearer and nearer, often with the red cape behind him, dicing with death. And one of them must die. The blood flows. The camera’s focus is the bull’s oozing gashes. No mercy. The bull pants in exhaustion, his body shudders, wracked with pain, woozy with thirst. The matador’s expression is pure concentration mingled with angry justification at his cruel task. The bull is disorientated, confused, desperate – destined for death. The fatal dagger goes in and the beast collapses. His is the solitude in that that lonely afternoon in the ring. @MeredithTaylor
Afternoons Of Solitude won the Golden Shell for best film at the closing ceremony of the 72nd edition of the Spanish festival
Screening during NEW YORK FILM FESTIVAL 2024