Tag Archives: Simon Andreu

El Sacerdote/ The Priest (Eloy de la Iglesia, Spain, 1978)

Eloy de la Iglesias’s ‘70s films make Almodóvar’s ‘80s films look conservative and even more superficial. In El Sacerdote/ The Priest (Spain, 1978), the Church is depicted in the very first shot as part and parcel of the Falangist state (see below), and debates around modernising it are couched in a priest’s torment over sin and sexual abstention.

 

 

Father Miguel (Simón Andreu) believes all the things he should, in Franco’s dogma as much as the Vatican’s. He’s handsome and good, but he is going mad with sexual desire. At the confessional he listens to Irene (Esperanza Roy) and falls in love with her.

He can’t do anything about it but can’t bear for even her husband to do anything with her either. He is removed from his function as her spiritual advisor and placed teaching children but even though he is not homosexual or pedophile, his gaze at their thighs take on a sexual tinge.

He can’t have sex anywhere so sees it everywhere, wants it with anyone, but is too riven by notions of sin to find satisfaction even with prostitutes. His desires are such a torment he goes back to his village to rest but even there his memories turn to childhood, when he was a normal boy who easily satisfied his urges, amongst his friends, even with geese. Finally his desires are in such a conflict with his faith that the only solution he can find is to cut off his penis with a pair of garden shears.

At the end, the parish is left with few priests, some have married, others have gone into other lines of work, the more left-wing priests have become the most active and didactic but have moved on to more needy neighbourhoods. Father Miguel leaves the priesthood in order to put his faith in man and to find salvation now rather than in the after-life: ‘It is very difficult to be free in this country’, he tells Irene, ‘but it is a goal we must pursue above all others.’ It’s an extraordinary film, that takes full sensational advantage of Spain’s then emerging freedoms. The film revels in its sensationalist situations but sensationalism here is never just an end in itself but a vehicle for the exploration of serious ideas – Francoism, the Church, how traditional beliefs not only control society but also stunt, damage and may even drive mad the individual. An astonishing work.

José Arroyo

Juegos de amor prohibido/ Forbidden Love Games (Eloy de la Iglesia, Spain, 1975)

 

 

A film about politics, and the politics of sex, power and money, with a fascinating contrast between the musty décor of past grandness and the brutalist architecture of modern times.

The last film Eloy de la Iglesia made under the Franco dictatorship and the one that suffers most from the censorship it received: 42 cuts in all. And one can understand why. A pair of siblings, Julia (Inma de Santis) and Miguel (John Moulder Brown), who look like twins, run away from home to start incestuous sexual relations on the last day of classes. Their professor of literature, Don Luis (Javier Escrivá) picks them up hitch-hiking, invites them to his stately home to stay the night but soon makes it known they will not leave. Don Luis is extremely rich, literature is only his latest hobby, after enthusiasms for shooting, drama and a life-long passion for Wagner. He lives only with his servant Jaime (Simón Andreu) whom he also picked up and gave shelter to once, after Jaime’s face was splashed all over Spanish newspapers for a crime that the narrative leaves mysterious. Jaime is just as trapped as Julia and Inma and it’s implied his role as servant involves more than lighting Don Luis’ cigarette. After a summer where Don Luis and Jaime train, dominate, humiliate and otherwise beat the siblings into submitting to their fate, classes begin again and soon the tables are turned. Don Luis becomes a prisoner. Jaime starts a sexual relationship with Julia AND Miguel. The house begins to be plastered with posters of Elvis and Rachel Welch. Rockabilly takes over from Wagner and Don Luis commits suicide at the change of events. The trio, however, decide to continue living on the estate, with Julia returning order to the house and hierarchy to the household with herself at the head of it. An extraordinary film to have made in Spain in 1975. Luis Martinez, writing in El Pais in 1996 writes, ‘More than a movie, evidence of the silences of an era/ Más que una película, un acta notarial de los silencios de una época’. A film about politics, and the politics of sex, power and money, with a fascinating contrast between the musty décor of past grandness and the brutalist architecture of modern times.

One of the film’s metaphors:

José Arroyo