Luna caliente (2009)

The suppression and censorship of art at the hands of authoritarian dictatorships has led to many real life horror stories for numerous artists worldwide throughout the years, at times even leading to the expulsion of artists from their native countries. Under the dictatorship of Francisco Franco from 1936 to 1975, the censorship practices in Spain were particular egregious, and made even more so coupled with the fact that the Catholic church was in full support of Franco's trampling of art. Jess Franco and José Ramón Larraz, two of the biggest mavericks of Spanish film even left the country to work abroad until Franco's death. Nevertheless, the resistance to Francoism was a source of inspiration for many, and it's precisely why Vicente Aranda is such an interesting case study. Given that Franco was still in power when Aranda made films like Fata Morgana (1965), which could easily be interpreted as a metaphor for living under a totalitarian regime, The Exquisite Cadaver (1969) and The Blood Splattered Bride (1972), its miraculous the amount of boundary pushing content for the time Aranda was able to get away with in these films. Aranda's anti-Francoist sentiments would pop up again throughout his career, and for his final film, 2009's Luna caliente, Aranda turned once again to one of the numerous abuses of power in Franco's reign for inspiration and in the process brought his entire career full circle.

Juan, a Spanish poet living in Paris returns to a politically tumultuous Spain to visit his mother and sister. Upon arriving, Juan discovers the entire town is on edge to to the trial of members of a separatist group fighting against Franco's regime. Later, Juan has dinner with Miniente, an old friend and anti-Franco sympathizer. Juan also meets Miniente's daughter Ramona and is immediately taken by her. Due to car troubles, Juan stays the night at Miniente's, and allows his passions to overtake him as he rapes Ramona and accidentally strangles her. Believing her dead, he tries to leave but is stopped by a drunken Miniente who insists on a late night on the town. After numerous protests from Juan for Miniente to return home, a belligerent Miniente admits to Juan he knows all about what happened with Ramona. A struggle ensues, resulting in Juan accidentally killing Miniente. In a panic, Juan dumps his car, along with Miniente's corpse over a bridge and rushes home. The following morning, Juan gets quite a shock when he finds Ramona at his door. Telling him she enjoyed what happened the night before, the two begin a torrid affair, however Juan is in for another surprise when he is called in for questioning regarding Miniente's disappearance and when the body is discovered, Juan becomes the main suspect. After refusing to confess, Juan is dealt one final shock, when the police inform him that a confession would be wise on his part due to his sisters involvement with trial gripping the entire nation.

A paranoid, erotically charged take on the classic Hitchcock theme of a man in over his head in a precarious situation, Luna caliente (Hot Moon), whether intentional or not, made for the perfect Aranda swansong, checking off all the boxes that defined Aranda's oeuvre. Playing out like a waking nightmare, the predicament faced by Juan is a clear cut example of the main concern of Barcelona School of Film style of filmmaking, of which Aranda was a pioneer, that being “the disruption of everyday life by the unexpected”. Aranda does something particularly interesting by presenting a protagonist who in all reality could also be considered somewhat of an antagonist given several of his actions throughout the course of the film. It's almost as if Aranda is forcing the audience to make a moral judgment as to which is worse, Juan's transgressions or the oppression and intimidation of the police state. Considering Aranda's political sentiments, not to mention the motivations of the police and government, it's a masterful game to play with any viewer and with the heavy feeling of police state tyranny being a constant, the film is bound to leave many viewers uncomfortable and perhaps even a bit furious. By far the most fascinating aspect of the film, the bizarre, obsessive relationship that forms between Juan and the enigmatic Ramona, harkens back to Aranda's fiercely sexual 90's output, with Ramona, exceptionally played by the vampish Thaïs Blume, a femme fatale of sorts, who's motivations are, rather wisely on Aranda's part, left mysterious.

The trial that hovers over the film was based on an actual trial that took place in 1969 (the film takes place in 1970) known as the Burgos Trial. Following the murder of Francoist police officer Melitón Manzanas, a notorious torturer who aided the Nazi's, 16 members of the E.T.A. separatist group were arrested, tried and eventually sentenced to death. Largely considered a show trial, it sparked numerous protests in Spain as well as internationally and due to the immense pressure, Franco's government was left with little choice but to reduce the sentences. Although Franco would continue to rule until 1975, the Burgos Trial has been cites over the years as the first major crack in Franco's regime, however there would be numerous instances of violence involving the E.T.A., with the brutality of Franco's retaliation causing even more protests and some nations even chose to distance themselves from Spain, Mexico going so far as suggesting Spain be removed from the United Nations. Little wonder then living under such conditions groomed filmmakers such as Aranda to use the medium of filmmaking as a form of defiance and in a lot of ways, Luna caliente could be seen as the ultimate Aranda film. Featuring virtuously all the defining characteristics of his most essential work, Luna caliente is indeed just an essential Aranda title. One last act of defiance from one of Spain's most liberated filmmakers.    

The Bilingual Lover (1993)

Along with being one of the founders of the Barcelona School of Film, fiery eroticism and shining a light on just how ill-equipped certain individuals are when it comes to emotions related to sex and romance, one of the lasting legacies of Vicente Aranda is his talent for literary adaptations, with a massive chunk of his filmography consisting of adaptations of novels and short stories. Aranda's first venture in the horror genre, The Exquisite Cadaver (1969), was based off a short story by Spanish writer Gonzalo Suárez, while Aranda's most celebrated film by Euro horror aficionados, The Blood Splattered Bride (1972), was of course sourced from Sheridan Le Fanu's vampire classic Carmilla. Throughout the 80's, Aranda began adapting novels that had made big impacts within the public consciousnesses of Spain and one particular writer whom Aranda turned to more than any other throughout his career was Juan Marsé. Beginning with The Girl With the Golden Panties (1980), Aranda would adapt 3 more of Marsé's book including If They Tell You I Fell (1989) and Aranda's penultimate feature Lolita's Club (2007). For his third Marsé-based film, Aranda made a typically bold move. Riding high on the massive success of Amantes (1991), which won him a Goya award for best picture, Aranda chose to bring Marsé's novel El amante bilingüe to the screen, the end result being one of Aranda's most odd and uncommercial films.

Distraught over catching his wife Norma (Ornella Muti) frolicking with a shoe shiner, Juan Marés (Imanol Arias) troubles are just beginning as Norma leaves him immediately after. Years following their separation, Juan makes his living as a street musician, performing in disguise after being disfigured by a Molotov cocktail thrown by a fascist demonstrator. Even more miserable than before, Juan has still not gotten over Norma and is prone to visits in his dreams by an altar-ego, the suave Juan Faneca who urges Juan Marés to embrace this alternate personality to win Norma back. With his pining for Norma taking a toll on his already fragile metal health, Juan Marés decides to bring Juan Faneca to life by disguising himself in a desperate bid to get close to Norma.

A strange, strange film, El amante bilingüe, or The Bilingual Lover, certainty fits in with a good portion of Aranda's 90's output as much like Amantes and the films that would follow, particularly Intruso (1993) and The Turkish Passion (1994), The Bilingual Lover centers around love becoming obsession, yet the execution is miles apart from the other films. Essentially a tragicomic take on the concept of l'amour fou, Aranda's decision to tackle material that could have easily crossed over into psychological horror territory in a more comedic manor certainty makes for some peculiar and downright baffling viewing, yet it's exactly what gives the film its singular identity. The films style of humor is bizarre to the Nth degree, at times bordering on the surreal with Juan Faneca's communicating with Juan Marés through household appliances, water pipes and the toilet. Juan Marés' disfigurement also requires him to perform in various get-ups, his favorite being a costume resembling the Phantom of the Opera and at one point in the film Juan Marés disguises himself as the Invisible Man which recalls Aranda's surrealist masterpiece Fata Morgana (1965). Even with all its frivolity the film still pulls double duty and delivers on the dramatics and is quite psychologically ambiguous, especially as it relates to Juan Marés mental state. On the edge from the beginning, the film more or less see's him willingly be taken over by madness as a coping mechanism, not unlike Jacques Dutronc in Andrzej Zulawski's My Nights are More Beautiful Than YourDays (1989).

The subject of language, more specifically the differences between Spanish and Catalan which give the film its title is one of the films more curious aspects. Truthfully, the film would have worked just as well without it but its importance stresses just how personal a project the film must have been for Aranda, himself Catalan. The flashbacks early in the film detailing the beginning of Juan Marés' and Norma's relationship as well as the cause of Juan Marés' facial injuries are yet another example of the film recalling Aranda's more politically charged past work, with their anti-authoritarian stance and commentary on class differences. While both are again clear personal statements for Aranda, most unsuspecting viewers will more than likely find them bewildering just as most did when the film was initially released as reception to the film was the complete opposite of Amantes. Aranda would later claim that the producers weren't all that interested in the material and interestingly, he even expressed some regrets on putting so much importance on language, feeling it limited the films appeal. Nevertheless, to come off a success like Amantes with a film like The Bilingual Lover is testament to Aranda having been one of the leading mavericks of Spanish cinema. Its a film that begs the question, “Who was this made for?” and like so many films that spark that same question, is idiosyncratic and wholly original.