REVIEW. LA BOLA NEGRA: Pride in the Name of Love.
1932 Granada. Carlos (Milo Quifes), the son of a wealthy family, is denied membership in an exclusive local casino (re: social club), presumably because of rumors about his homosexuality. He is handed "la bola negra," the black ball, which signifies his application's rejection.
1937 Spanish Civil War. A younger trumpeter named Sebastián (Guitarricodelafuente) is forced to join the Nationalist army in order to survive. He is assigned to guard Raphael (Miguel Bernadeau), a former footballer and now wounded prisoner of war for the Republic, and told to get information from him.
2017 Madrid. Historian/playwright Alberto Lopez Azcuna (Carlos Gonzalez) learns the maternal grandfather he never knew has died, leaving him an inheritance, which he must travel to Cantabria to receive. Alberto's mother Teresa (Lola Dueñas), still embittered by her father's abandonment when she was a child, tells him she's selling the house her father left her and begs Alberto not to seek out his inheritance. Alberto disregards his mother's pleas and travels to Cantabria, only to be given the remaining manuscript of La Bola Negra, an unfinished play by Spanish poet and playwright Frederico Garcia Lorca (Alberto Cortes).
Three stories spanning almost a century. How are they connected, and what does this have to do with Lorca's unfinished work?
Over the course of the next almost three hours, co-writers (w/Alberto Conejero) and co-directors Javier Calvo and Javier Ambrossi take the audience on a fascinating, epic journey that is both heartbreaking and horrifying. With a brilliant cast of actors that includes Penélope Cruz and Glenn Close in supporting roles, the two Javier's embrace the core of Lorca's legacy and mysterious death to create a story arc that utilizes complex characters, conflicting political beliefs and challenging social issues as a backdrop to celebrate personal freedom and life.
I'll admit that, an hour in, I was ready to leave. The first twenty minutes were absorbing enough, but the subsequent expository scenes dragged on a bit too long for my American movie sensibilities: the symbolism, at times, becoming increasing heavy-handed and cumbersome. Still, I wanted to see what made this film, the one that won Best Director(s) for Calvo and Ambrossi at this year's Cannes Film Festival (along w/Fatherland's Pawel Pawlikowski) such a critical success.
I'm glad I stayed. The narrative tempo picked up about ten minuts later, and the last ninety minutes were riveting and satisfying. I grew more interested in how the story would be resolved, even though I'd pretty much figured out the connections between Carlos, Sebastián, Alberto and, of course, Lorca, before the movie's final resolution. The story does not unfold in linear fashion. Rather, it cuts back and forth between the three time periods/vignettes, with greater frequency as the plot comes together, intensifying both the emotional tone of the film and the urgency of Lorca's ground-breaking work.
Calvo and Ambrossi - endearingly known as "Los Javis" to Spanish cinephiles - pull out all the stops in crafting their narrative, using black and white and color, along with etheral dream sequences, elaborate musical numbers, and brutal war scenes, all intended to evoke the culture and chaos of 1930s Spain alongside the detachment and disillusion of today's contemporary world. The seemingly non-chalant freedom that Alberto exhibits with his partner Juan Pablo (Julio Torres) almost feels disrespectful and ignorant of the past, at least, until Alberto digs deeper into the meaning of his inheritance.
As Isabelle Durand (Glenn Close), a Lorcan scholar, tells him, she's not a historian because of the facts, but because of the "personalities of the people" who make history, write policy, create art. For me, that moment underscored not just the purpose of Alberto's inquiry into his grandfather's bequest, but a reminder of my own interest in studying and teaching history. It's all about individual stories, personal journeys, lasting legacies. As Raphael tells Sebastián, no one ever really disappears. What a hopeful notion.
Critical response has been mostly positive, though a few reviewers accused the movie of lapsing into melodrama, and one calling it "insistently monumental." I would argue that, perhaps, some tigher editing in the first hour might have brought the movie to its final conclusion without losing any of its emotional impact. But melodrama seems like an overstatement, and intentional loftiness seems a bit of a cheap shot at Los Javis. That fact that Calvo and Ambrossi managed to create a coherent narrative that spans three eras over almost one hundred years, each with a distinct visual look and feel, plus weaving real-life historic figures with fictional characters, is no small accomplishment.
Like Fatherland, to appreciate La Bola Negra, it would be beneficial to have some knowledge of the Spanish Civil War, including the Nationalists's repudiation of homosexuality and gay culture. A good chunk of the film focuses on Sebastián and Raphael and, without a sense of the political issues and oppression that dominated Spain under Franco. That's not to say this film can't be enjoyed on its own, but some understanding of Europe during this time will definitely enhance the viewer's understanding of what the two Javier's have achieved here.
Watching La Bola Negra, I was reminded of another recent Spanish-language film about queer identity, 2024's Emilia Pérez, a genre-crossing musical crime drama that was as controversia for its subject matter as it was innovative for its production. Unfortunately, a back-channeling campaign against lead actress Karla Sofía Gascón, for alleged racists posts on social media made years ago, derailed the movie's Oscar cred, leaving it with only two awards: Best Supporting Actress (Zoe Saldaña) and Best Original Song ("El Mai"). Emilia Pérez deserved better than it got Oscar-wise, so I'm optimistic that La Bola Negra will be prudent in its preparation for the upcoming Oscar race, that no unforeseen obstacles will appear from the bowels of social media.
In September, the Academy of Cinematic Arts and Sciences of Spain submitted La Bola Negra as its nomination for Best International Film. Don't be surprised if a Best Picture nom is also in the offing, along with possible supporting actor/actress nominations for Cruz and Guitarricodelafuente, respectively. Guitarricodelafuente's composition, "La Nieve," is also considered a strong contender for Best Original Song. Heads-up, Taylor Swift. You may know us, and we may know you, but you never know what might tickle AMPAS voters fancies come Oscar time.
Overall - and with the caveat that this is a Spanish language movie with English subtitles, as well as graphic sexuality and nudity (including male full frontal) - La Bola Negra is a mezmerizing, sometimes breathtaking, and profounding moving exploration of Spanish queer identify. There are images from this film I will never forget, situations so touching and human they almost defy explanation, that will remain deep within my movie mind and idyllic heart.
I must remember to bring more tissues.
*******
La Bola Negra is currently playing in American theaters and is rated "R" for mature themes, bloody, war-related violence and graphic sexuality. In Spanish with English subtitles. It is scheduled to stream on Netflix December 2, 2026.
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