The Spanish director Víctor Erice is one of our most revered, yet least prolific, European filmmakers. Over the past 50 years or so, he’s directed just four features, starting with his masterful debut, The Spirit of the Beehive.
That movie was a haunting family drama set in 1940, during the early days of the Franco dictatorship. It was also a passionate ode to cinema from a filmmaker who’s always loved the movies, even when the movies haven’t loved him back.
Erice had a rough time with his 1983 film El Sur, a beautiful yet truncated work that was released in its unfinished form. In the years since, Erice has directed a number of projects, including the 1992 documentary The Quince Tree Sun and several shorts.
But he has struggled to get another fiction feature off the ground — until now. The arrival of Erice’s new movie, Close Your Eyes, would be welcome news even if it weren’t one of the best things I’ve seen this year. Manolo Solo plays a long-retired director named Miguel, who quit the biz in 1990, after one of his films shut down production. The circumstances were mysterious: His star, a handsome actor named Julio Arenas, vanished without explanation and was presumed dead. Now, it’s 2012, and a Madrid-based TV journalist is investigating Julio’s disappearance.
After he’s interviewed, Miguel stays in Madrid and makes inquiries of his own. While Close Your Eyes unfolds at a leisurely pace over nearly three hours, it has the pull of a well-crafted detective story. Miguel reaches out to old friends and colleagues, like his longtime editor, Max, a hardcore cinephile who still has the never-screened footage from that halted production.
Miguel also gets back in touch with Julio’s daughter, who knew little about her father even before he went missing. She’s played, exquisitely, by Ana Torrent, who was just a young girl when she starred in The Spirit of the Beehive decades ago. It’s a glorious full-circle moment.
Miguel’s investigation doesn’t yield any immediate answers, and he returns, wistfully, to his home on the Spanish coast. It’s here that the action briefly pauses and settles into a simply magical interlude. One night, while hanging out under the stars, Miguel picks up a guitar and performs a duet with his friend Toni. You’ll recognize the song if you’ve seen Howard Hawks’ 1959 western, Rio Bravo, which is one of my own favorite movies.
Maybe it’s one of Erice’s, too. Like Rio Bravo, Close Your Eyes turns out to be a story about community, about friendships forged under unlikely circumstances. Miguel’s mission to solve the mystery of Julio’s disappearance becomes a group effort, as old and new friends come together to help him.
You don’t have to know Erice’s work to get swept up in Close Your Eyes. But those who do know his work will find the new film an almost unbearably moving experience. Erice is, in many ways, telling his own story: Miguel could be his stand-in, just as Miguel’s unfinished film feels like a meta-commentary on some of Erice’s own abandoned projects. Miguel and his old editor, Max, reminisce about earlier, better times for the film industry and grouse about the changes wrought by digital technology.
But despite his characters’ pessimism, Erice continues to show a hard-won faith in the movies. He knows that they can move us in ways that no other art form can. At one point, Erice ushers all his characters into a dilapidated old movie theatre, which is where Close Your Eyes becomes not just an engaging film, but a quietly transcendent one. I don’t want to say too much about what happens, but it’s worth discovering for yourself, in a movie theatre of your own.
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