VENTURA PONS: GRACIAS POR LOS AÑOS
DE GRACIA
Àlex Gorina
El Cine Catalán es un gran desconocido en el mundo. Un
cine de dimensión limitada, pero proporcionada al tamaño del territorio y sus
recursos, pero especialmente por el camuflaje al que le ha sometido la Historia,
agazapado tras la existencia del Cine Español. Es trágico que casi todo lo que
se rodó en Catalunya anterior a la Guerra Civil se ha perdido, y tras el
conflicto fue trágicamente reprimido, a pesar de lo cual fue un cine valiente,
resistente, que no se resignó, y periódicamente a lo largo del siglo XX fue
pionero, siempre más moderno, y con una voluntad más universal que el cine
peninsular. A pesar de todo, gran parte del mundo ignora su existencia e
especificidad: ¡probablemente aún su nombre más trascendente sea el de Salvador
Dalí, con sus aportaciones breves pero geniales cuando colaboraba con Luis
Buñuel!
Al Cine Catalán pertenece y ha dedicado toda su ilusión e
imaginación, todo su talento, Ventura Pons. Ventura, que procede de un mundo
educado e ilustrado y que como muchos se
catapultó a si mismo desde el trampolín del antifranquismo, entre muchas otras
cosas se alimentó de la necesidad de sobrevivir y superar el reto de aquel arte
cinematográfico mentiroso y mediocre que se producía en el país, preparando el
terreno y protagonizando la Transición tras la muerte del Dictador: primero en
el teatro, dónde se convirtió en una voz fundamental en Barcelona pero al que
renunció cuando empezó a dirigir películas, para no distorsionar su
concentración en hacer lo que realmente más le gustaba (aunque el teatro ha
seguido siendo una de sus fuentes de inspiración constantes)
Teatro y Cine catalanes, y en catalán, sin excepción, ni
guiños, ni renuncias, ni pactos, ni la menor duda, y no solamente por convicciones
ideológicas, sino porque es la única manera natural conque Ventura Pons puede
expresarse sin mentirse ni mentir. Lo contrario para él sería un pié forzado, y
el primero en no creerselo sería probablemente él mismo.
La Historia ha querido que el Cine de Ventura Pons exista
desde 1978, 3 años después de la muerte del Dictador, protagonizando al
completo todo el tiempo de la Catalunya de las libertades, autónoma, aún no
independiente, pero en diversos procesos de su progreso para ocupar el lugar
definitivo que le corresponde en el mundo. No hay cineasta catalán que, como
Ventura Pons, haya existido y rodado constantemente desde entonces, muy
constantemente, y como he dicho antes, siempre en catalán y directa o
indirectamente sobre su país y sobre nosotros, los catalanes. El cine de
Ventura es nuestra espina dorsal, nuestra columna vertebral, en Catalunya
decimos “el pal de paller”, nos identifica y deberíamos identificarnos
absolutamente con él. Y utilizo el condicional porque Catalunya es un país
complicado, psicológicamente maltratado y que pese a todas las convicciones aún
no ha sabido amarse sin condiciones, sin traumas o sin, sí, es verdad, un
cierto miedo, digámosle prudencia. Ni a si mismo, ni a los suyos. Ventura Pons
por supuesto que es conocido, respetado, admirado. Por supuesto que ha tenido
siempre éxito en mayor o menor medida, pero como todo lo catalán ha de
conquistar ese amor y ese éxito cada vez, como si tuviera que empezar desde
cero.
Esa es una particularidad de país, sin embargo, que ni aquí
ni ahora podemos analizar exaustivamente, probablemente porque la misma
sociedad catalana no se ha atrevido a hacerlo sin excusas ni disimulos. Sus
contradicciones son un auténtico temario, y mira tu por donde el único cineasta
que lo ha abordado, más indirecta que directamente, es él. Porque casi nunca
Catalunya ha sido el tema de sus películas, pero lo catalán fluye, rebosa, se
derrama por todos los poros de sus películas.
Desde “Ocaña, retrat impertinent” hasta su última novedad
“Any de Gràcia”, son casi 40 años fluidos, no fáciles, pero que apenas han roto
el afán de emociones, diversiones e ilusiones que ha explicado.Le hemos
conocido miradas a los integrados, un amplísimo muestrario de representantes de
lo que podríamos llamar el explícito catálogo de la comicidad del país,
apuestas consecuentes por los autores teatrales más intrigantes y explícitos de
Catalunya, confesiones de una desnudez obsesiva, fiestas que preanuncian el
Musical que Ventura Pons aún nos debe, comedias hiperbólicas y sagaces retratos
sociales, y una intensa admiración por
el talento de los actores, algunos sus favoritos, y algunas sus favoritas,
representadas a la perfección por ese film bisagra que fue “Actrius” donde
reunió a Nuria Espert, Anna Lizarán y Rosa Mª Sardá, que es como mencionar a
las tres divas definitivas contemporáneas, además de un sinnúmero de amigos y
conocidos capaces de dar la nota en cualquier rincón de sus films.
Como la novedad es “Any de Gràcia” y la protagonista es
precismente Rosa Mª Sardà que le ha acompañado desde siempre, déjenme
puntualizar que esta actriz admiradísima en Catalunya y Espanya, adorada y
temida porque es todo un carácter, pertenece a la breve pero extraordinaria
tradición de Damas del teatro y del cine capaces de ser tan inmensas trágicas
como cómicas: Katharine Hepburn, Carol Burnett, Anna Magnani…, no voy a seguir.
Pero si aprovechar esta fusión de las dos máscaras, la de las lágrimas y la de
las sonrisas, para abrir la perspectiva de un Ventura Pons que no renuncia a
ninguna de las opciones, posibilidades y miradas, pero que es tan sincero con
la desolación y densidad de un film tan adulto como “Amic/Amat”, con el
rompecabezas anímico de variantes infinitas que es “Caricies” y con la
desopilante apuesta por el divertimento desacralizado que es “Qué t’hi jugues,
Mari Pili?”. No es un cine container, es un cine maravillado, perplejo ante las
infinitas posibilidades del arte y de los sentimientos populares, con un
inteligente capitulado en que el autor, siempre, ha de ser capaz de dar
respuesta a su tiempo, pero especialmente a las posibilidades que le brinda
“su” momento. Porque un director de cine no existe al margen de la vida, y su
vida y La Vida se han de encontrar y conocer cada vez. Así, a épocas, Ventura
ha sido más interior o mas coral, más negro o más multicolor, más fantasioso o
tomando apuntes de la realidad, más secreto o más accesible, más dubitativo o más confesional, por
supuesto. Pero jamás, jamás nos ha tomado el pelo ni se ha engañado a si mismo.
Llegados a este punto, conviene añadir que “Any de Gràcia”
es una película contracorriente. En un mundo feroz, disgustado, indeciso, que
da palos de ciego, un mundo en el que se vierten a diario vaticinios que
duelen, dividen, aislan y lo que es peor, que consiguen culpabilizarnos de todo
y pretenden hacernos creer que merecemos el castigo que recibimos y más aún los
que vendrán; en ese momento de ruina y ruinas, que coincide con la
transformación más poderosa que del cine y los medios de comunicarnos
pudiéramos imaginar; aún incalculable, aún sin todas las herramientas ni
sistemas necesarios; aún crítico; sí, ahora que parecen proceder la denuncia y
la rabia, el pesimismo y la acritud, los dedos acusadores y ese lamerse las
heridas que acostumbra a ser refugio de vencidos y no luchadores, ahora, y
precisamente tras su etapa de cine más hosco y rabioso, Ventura Pons nos ha
rodado una comedia vitalista, reconfortante, optimista y constructiva.
A eso le llamo yo llevar la contraria. O si preferís, el
inconformismo de quien jamás dará las cosas por resueltas ni pondrá un The End
precipitado a su compromiso con el tiempo, su país y todos nosotros.
Por esta y todas las otras razones, y por las muchas horas
de placer, y porque nunca nos ha abandonado, y porque siempre ha sido una promesa
la sorpresa del próximo Ventura y nos quedan muchos próximos Venturas por
desempaquetar, aquí y hoy con todos ustedes, como dijo Anabel Campo Vidal, “una
mirada libre”, “un catalán libre” y “las películas libres” de Ventura Pons
TO VENTURA PONS, FOR ALL THE YEARS YOU HAVE GRACED US
WITH YOUR CINEMA: THANKS
Alex Gorina
Film Critic
Catalan cinema is largely unknown to most of the world. Its scale is commensurate with the size of Catalonia’s territory and resources, but limited by the camouflage History has subjected it to, crouching behind the presence of Spanish cinema. The fact that practically everything shot in Catalonia before the Civil War has been lost is a tragedy; after that conflict, it was harshly repressed. Nevertheless, Catalan cinema was courageous, tough, and more universal in its aspirations than cinema elsewhere on the Iberian Peninsula. In spite of this, much of the world remains unaware of its existence and its specificity; perhaps its most renowned figure is still Salvador Dalí, for his brief but brilliant contributions with Luis Buñuel!
Ventura Pons belongs to Catalan cinema, and to Catalan cinema he has dedicated all his enthusiasm and imagination, all his talent. Ventura Pons comes from a highly educated, enlightened background; and like many, he used his opposition to the Franco regime as a launching pad into his career. He found sustenance in the need to survive and exceed that mendacious, mediocre way of making movies that prevailed throughout the country. He paved the way for and was a leading player in the transition to democracy after the Dictator’s death. He worked first in theater, where he became a major voice in Barcelona, but gave up the stage when he began to direct movies, so as not to divert his attention from what he truly enjoyed most (although he still finds theater to be a constant source of inspiration).
Catalan theater and cinema, in Catalan. There have been no exceptions, no concessions, no giving up, no deals made, no vacillation. Not only because of his ideological convictions, but because it is the only way in which Ventura Pons can express himself naturally without lying to others or lying to himself. To do otherwise would be to operate within the confines of an artificial set of norms, and he would probably be the first to find such work unpersuasive.
Ventura Pons’s work goes back to 1978, three years after the Dictator’s death. His filmography spans the entire period where Catalonia has enjoyed freedom, a region that while still not independent, does have home rule. Ventura’s films coincide with the various phases of Catalonia’s progress as it moves to occupy its definitive place in the world. There is no Catalan director who, like Ventura Pons, has been consistently making movies, and as I said before, always in Catalan. There has been no Catalan director since then whose every film, directly or indirectly, has been about Catalonia and about us, the Catalans. Ventura Pons’s cinema is our backbone, our spinal column. In Catalonia we have an expression, el pal del paller (the main pole holding up the haystack). That is what Ventura Pons’s cinema is for us: it identifies us and we should be absolutely identified with it. I use the conditional because Catalonia is a complicated, psychologically abused country, and in spite of all its convictions, it is still incapable of loving itself unconditionally, without trauma, or yes indeed, without a certain degree of fear, call it prudence. Not only has Catalonia been incapable of loving itself unconditionally as a country; it has also been unable to love its citizens unconditionally. Of course, Ventura Pons is known, respected, and admired. Of course he has always been more or less successful, but like everything Catalan, he has to earn that love and that success every time, as if he had to start again from zero. That is a particularity of the country. This is not the time or the place to comprehensively analyze this idiosyncrasy, probably because Catalan society itself hasn’t dared to do so without making excuses or covering up. Its contradictions constitute a veritable syllabus and -go figure- the only director who has addressed them, more indirectly than directly, is Ventura Pons. I say indirectly because Catalonia has almost never been the central theme of his movies, but Catalanity flows, spills, and overflows through every pore of his films.
From Ocaña, retrat intermitent (Ocaña, an Intermittent Portrait), through his most recent work, Any de Gràcia (Year of Grace), practically 40 years have gone by. They haven’t been easy, but they have done little to diminish Ventura Pons’s thirst for emotion, enjoyment and excitement. During that period, we have observed his gaze in a broad sampling of what we could call an explicit catalog of the country’s sense of humor, a clear-cut statement of support for some of Catalonia’s most intriguing and explicit playwrights, obsessively naked confessions, parties that foreshadow the Musical that Ventura Pons still owes us, hyperbolical comedies and shrewd social portraits, and an intense admiration for acting. Some of this talent are his personal favorites, the female side of which is perfectly represented in Actrius (Actresses), that watershed film that brought together Núria Espert, Anna Lizaran, and Rosa Maria Sardà, which is tantamount to mentioning the three contemporary Catalan divas, in addition to a myriad of friends and acquaintances who could easily stand out in any corner of his films. Since Ventura Pons’s most recent film is Any de Gràcia and the main character is portrayed precisely by Rosa Maria Sardà, who has been a constant fixture in his filmmaking, allow me to point out that this actress, so admired in Catalonia and Spain, adored and feared because she is quite a character, belongs to the brief but extraordinary tradition of women of theater and cinema capable of being great tragedians and outstanding comic actors: Katherine Hepburn, Carol Burnett, Anna Magnani...I could go on and on. The fusion of these two masks, of tears and smiles, opens the perspective of a Ventura Pons who does not forego any option, possibility or outlook, someone who can be just as sincere in the grief and density of a mature film such as Amic/Amat (Beloved/Friend), as he is in Carícies (Caresses), an emotional jigsaw puzzle of infinite variations, or in Què t´hi jugues, Mari Pili? (What’s Your Bet, Mari Pili?), a hilarious attempt at desacralized entertainment. Ventura Pons’s cinema is not a potpourri: it is a cinema of marvel, a cinema that is baffled by the infinite possibilities of art and popular sentiment. Ventura Pons’s cinema encompasses an intelligent compendium where the author must always be able to respond to his time, but where, especially, he must be able to respond to the possibilities offered him by “his” moment. Because a movie director does not exist outside of life, and his life and Life have to meet and become acquainted with each other every time. In this way, in certain periods, Ventura Pons has been more intimate or more choral, darker or more colorful, more imaginative or closer to reality, more secretive or more accessible, more doubtful or more confessional. But never, never has he pulled our leg, nor has he ever deceived himself. It should be said here that Any de Gràcia is an unconventional film. In a ferocious, unhappy, indecisive world that is groping in the dark, a world where forecasts are made every day that hurt, divide, isolate, and what is worse, manage to make us feel guilty about everything, predictions that try to make us believe that we deserve the punishment we receive and, even more so, the punishments to come, at that time of ruin and ruins, coinciding with the most powerful transformation of cinema and the media that we could imagine, a world that is still incalculable, still lacking in tools and the necessary systems, at a still critical moment ... yes, in that world, where denunciation and anger, pessimism and acrimony, finger-pointing and that licking of one’s wounds, oftentimes the refuge of the non-struggling vanquished, would seem to be appropriate, now, and precisely after emerging from the grimmest and most angry period of his moviemaking, Ventura Pons has shot a dynamic, comforting, optimistic and constructive comedy.
That’s what I call upholding the contrarian point of view. Or if you prefer, such is the nonconformism of someone who never considers things to be definitively resolved, someone who will never put a precipitous The End on his commitment to his time, his country, and all of us.
For these reasons and many others, for the numerous hours of pleasure, because he has never abandoned us, because the next Ventura Pons film has always been a surprise, and because there are still many upcoming Ventura Pons creations waiting to be unpacked, here, today, with all of you, as Anabel Campo Vidal once said, I give you “a free gaze,” “a free Catalan,” and “the free films” of Ventura Pons.
GOZAMOS
By Corey Nuffer
Wisdom is not inevitable. One gets the feeling that
with the accrual of years and films, veteran filmmaker Ventura Pons exudes it
like the sun gives off light. In his newest film, Year of Grace, we see
the story of an old, mean curmudgeon helped into the light by a young, thoughtful
artist. Just wording it like this makes me shudder, for in the wrong hands,
this story could come off as trite and cheap, that art can save the world! and
all you need is love! Instead, we get the feeling that there is no recipe, that
it is messy and mundane as clipping toenails or going out dancing with friends.
In this way, Year of Grace, much like life itself, is a comedy that’s
sometimes tragic but ultimately a highly entertaining—in the holiest way— story
of hope for all of us who make mistakes and persevere long enough to try and
fix them.
Beginning with music, Pons’ style of scoring—at
least in this film—means lyrics that matter with melodies mirroring emotive
states in ways words cannot. Music opens the first scene with a
not-quite-fevered strumming of an acoustic guitar tempered by a man’s voice
(Mazoni) evoking the calm of James Taylor, a sound so creamy and soothing,
listening to it is like slipping into a warm bed on a cold night.
The lyrics add a wonderful dimension, much like a
narrator speaking in poem: “The river carries me off/and I didn’t say goodbye,”
that fate, and not he, is responsible for his life. It’s an abdication of
responsibility that smells ripe for change. The lyrics end: “And it’s what
hurts me most,” this tragedy of not being able to say goodbye. You wonder if
the character’s lament is for himself or for those he left behind. A reviewer
for the Film Society of Lincoln Center said of the soundtrack:
“The soundtrack is a veritable catalog of the best in new Catalan pop: Mazoni,
Sanjosex, El petit de cal eril, Èric Vinaixa, Illa Carolina…” And its curating
into this movie into the exact, right scenes demonstrates the adroit
storytelling abilities of Pons.
This opening sequence introduces the main
protagonist and hero, David (Oriol Pla).
It’s a familiar scene of youth venturing out into the world, unhindered by
baggage, motivated with hopes of wild sex, partying and finally becoming an
artist. What makes this different from most scenes is that David-as-youth is
much more complicated than what is usually portrayed in film. While he’s all
about being in the present moment, he proves to be the harbinger of wisdom. We
see him evolve, through sassing off to Grácia, professors and friends alike, to
being humbled by circumstance. Perhaps in a time when American film stymies
under the simplifying pressures to capitulate in the name of global appeal (and
therefore, revenue), films such as Year of Grace feel like fresh air.
Arranged through a school program, David stays with
Grácia, the Archie-Bunker/Melvin-Udall monster of a
woman who seems unsalvageable. And like her nasty counterparts, Grácia is funny
enough to spare us in the pews from having a panic attack. When David first
arrives at her apartment, Grace interrogates the social worker arranging the
homestay. “I hope he’s not like the last one, who didn’t even have the decency
to flush the toilet after using it!” she hisses. Listening in the hallway,
David and the sweet and silly neighbor, Enriquetta, react. “You flush?”
Enriquetta asks, without missing a beat. “Yes,” David responds. Enriquetta
sighs in relief. This is so funny in such an effortless, classic way. Over and
over, Pons fills the movie with these nasty bits of Grácia, leavened by silly
and very smart humor.
In the very next scene, “Like a knife that cuts a
whole day into pieces,” is the first line of lyrics that accompanies David, as
he walks around Barcelona. Smiling and full-on stride, David walks with
purpose, joy even. But the lyrics capture and extend the trauma of the previous
scene. Fortunately, David seems unaffected. Is it his youth? Is he simply
unaware? While this is a story of the collision between two different ways of
being in the world, rooted in age, the question arises: Do you have to be young
to be full of hope? And does growing old necessitate the Grácia effect?
These universal fixtures of old-means-damaged and
young-means-unabated provide a place for creativity and improvisation for Pons,
and really, for the writers of this wonderful script, Carme Morell, Jaume
Cuspinera and Pons, himself. While each character enjoys a complexity beyond
the stereotype, it is together that they eventually enable the savoir-faire
hidden in each other.
Ultimately, it is this complexity that provides a
crucial realism to the movie. And just to be sure to ground the tale by
honoring true and timely issues that young folks like David face, there’s even
room for commentary on the truly scary state of not only Spain’s economic woe
but the perilous state of all young people. Seen as yet another contour to a
truly well-directed film, the inclusion of this type of realism offers a subtle
nudge to the psyche, as if to strain just enough to be taken seriously by all
of us, young and old alike. Truly this is not a Disney fairy tale but something
closer to the comedy version of the Brothers Grimm.
No one was born mean, joy unfulfilled can turn to
rot and sometimes it is the suffering we do for each other that can give us the
chutzpah and grace to live the best versions of ourselves.
Bottom Line: Gorgeously
shot, very well cast, Bob Dylan-esque soundtrack and a smart story that will
feed your soul while making you laugh, Year of Grace takes you to the
edge only to bring you back with crackling writing fueled by erudite
understanding of that quality that’s usually attributed to G-d, grace.
CHICAGO TRIBUNE
'Grace' bridges generation gap
Breezy 'Grace' bridges Barcelona generation gap
Michael Phillips | Movie critic
In "Year of Grace" ("Any de
Gracia"), the opening-night presentation of the 28th Chicago Latino Film
Festival, a time-worn formula goes down nice and easy and practically rolls
over and begs for a Hollywood remake: Cranky elder collides with raw youth, to life-affirming
results.
Leaving his village and a dissolving home life for the urban wilds of
Barcelona, Spain, college-age David (Oriol Pla) enrolls in a student program as
in-home caregiver under the wary eye of Grace (Rosa Maria Sarda). She's a widow
with a beloved parakeet, living above a bar frequented by aspiring artist
David. Grace and David do not get along, until Catalan co-writer and director
Ventura Pons engineers a thaw, first over games of cards, then over alcohol and
other diversions.
Quick and breezy, the film has a really good score
made up of Catalan pop singles, mostly in the key of Sensitive. An abbreviated
romance between David and a fellow student (avid-eyed Diana Gomez) shows the
Barcelona newbie what's possible in this new world. Though Sarda's role is pure
situational comedy, with a pinch of pathos, she dines out on its possibilities.
Filmmaker Pons is this year's Latino Film Festival recipient of the Gloria
Career Achievement Award. The film runs 87 minutes; it's in Catalan with English
subtitles, and while the opening gala tickets run $65-$75, you're getting a
movie, a reception, food, drinks, live entertainment and the whole package.
