La Bola Negra, 2026.
Written and Directed by Javier Ambrossi and Javier Calvo.
Starring Guitarricadelafuente, Miguel Bernardeau, Carlos González, Milo Quifes, Lola Dueñas, Penélope Cruz, Glenn Close, Lorenzo Zurzolo, Julio Torres, Alberto Cortés, María Morales, Antonio de la Torre, Hugo Welzel, Yenesi, Natalia de Molina, Alex Pastrana, Javier Butler, Mona Martínez, Nuria Mencía, Mateo Medina, Albert Pla, Teo Lucadamo, Antonio Dechent, and Daniel Ibáñez.
SYNOPSIS:
Explores what it means to be gay throughout different eras, focusing on “three existences” that are connected through themes of sexuality, desire, pain, and inheritance.
In 1936, celebrated Spanish poet and playwright Federico García Lorca was executed, leaving his in-process manuscript La Bola Negra unfinished. From Los Javis (the writing/directing duo Javier Ambrossi and Javier Calvo), that serves as the basis for a generation-spanning connective thread in an exceptionally bold, unconventional, and structurally ambitious adaptation, blending history and fiction.
With only four pages to go off of (alongside a play from Alberto Conejero with a similar concept, centered on the author’s plausible relationship with football player and actor turned soldier Rafael Rodríguez Rapún), a sprawling epic has sprouted forth from every direction of those words, further into the past and far into the future (2017 to be exact), simultaneously interested in what the rest of the play could have said, what spurned it in the first place, how it became lost, why it was found, and how it binds together several characters.
It’s a conceptually rich and lyrically accomplished work, testifying to the importance of recovering and exploring not only lost art and voices, but lost people, many of whom had to bury and suppress realities about their identities just as their adjacent work was metaphorically buried. In a cinematic landscape where originality and fresh concepts are understandably hard to come by, it’s fair to say La Bola Negra is unparalleled. Even the aforementioned stage play is only roughly 1/3 of what this film offers.
Gracefully edited with narrative clarity by Alberto Gutiérrez despite what could be perceived as a daunting structure (and that’s before a fourth scenario is introduced, wisely in black-and-white to ensure viewers can keep all of it straight in their heads), La Bola Negra intermittently shifts perspectives from Sebastián, an aspiring musician and trumpet performer (fittingly played by Guitarricadelafuente, making his acting debut) who essentially becomes forced into joining the Republic during the Spanish Civil War after his home village is bombed by thought-to-be-allies, to some years before that conflict in 1932 where Carlos (Milo Quifes), a closeted young gay man is at odds on what to do regarding rejection from his father’s high society casino club (there are rumors of his sexuality going around) in which a board votes using white and black balls for approval and denial respectively. La Bola Negra translates to “the black ball”, hence the title, and is a pronounced visual metaphor for rejection of queerness and possibly also a symbol of suppression.
In what still could be considered modern times, openly gay (and notably so when juxtaposed against the era of the other primary characters), dejected playwright and historian Alberto (Carlos González) squabbles with his troubled addict mother (Lola Dueñas), namely over the sudden news that his grandfather has just died and has left him a will. Thought to have been dead for years now and having never gotten to know his grandfather, Alberto makes the trip, much to the chagrin of his mother, where the interconnected mystery expands with a request to make a delivery.
Circling back a bit, the other connection here is that all three of these central characters are either gay or discovering their sexuality. In Sebastián’s case, it becomes clear when he meets wounded rebel soldier Rafael Rodríguez Rapún (Miguel Bernardeau), a notable detainee he is forced to watch over. Later, a sequence in a nightclub of sorts involving transgressive dance performer Nené Romero (Penélope Cruz) and a similarly provocative show, alongside a private encounter in which she declares with wisdom that “transvestism is the fantasy of possibility, where war is the opposite”, his foggy mind about his sexual identity clears up.
At this point, one might wonder who in God’s name Glenn Close could possibly be playing; she pops up in the modern-day segment not only assisting Alberto with his research, but also speaking Spanish. To get it out of the way, yes, that glorified cameo is jarring and arguably unnecessary, although if that’s part of what it took to get this emotionally leveling and layered work a huge buyer out of Cannes (Netflix), that’s reason enough.
However, La Bola Negra also has deeply researched and dazzling production design (from Roger Bellés) and sweeping photography (from Gris Jordana), so the real surprise is that Netflix or a major distributor wasn’t footing the bill to begin with. Whether it’s Sebastián climbing atop marble rubble and statues, or Carlos delivering a fever-dream hypnotic dance elevated by the consistently stirring, culturally specific musical aspects, or one of the brief but intensely shocking and upsetting bombings or battle sequences, or even a shot of a board member dropping a black ball down a tube signaling rejection, this is a visually arresting experience where meticulous thought and care have been put into each and every frame. The exception are the scenes in 2017, which simply don’t have the same visual muscularity behind them and are occasionally dry, plus more about the research.
The only other slight misstep is that while La Bola Negra remains compelling for its sense of place, time, and character, it takes a while to establish those settings, dynamics, and stories before it gets to the crux of the narrative. There are certainly moments where it feels cold and distant, at least until more of what the narrative is doing snaps into place.
With that in mind, the last hour or so of crosscutting between time periods is breathlessly rewarding in the sense that, while a nugget of the bigger picture connecting these characters is obvious, the sheer density of it all and the scope of the romance are all-encompassing, leaving one hanging on each scene and word. La Bola Negra is also more than a tragedy set during tumultuous times in Spain and how the past ripples into traumas in future generations, but a reminder of the possibilities of the past lives history still hasn’t fully parsed through, and that what was once hidden should see the light of day or closure, just as sexualities deserve to be out in the open. It is speculative fiction that elaborates on grandiose history with facts and imagination, and, in the final stretch, is as invigorating as it is formally inventive.
Flickering Myth Rating – Film: ★ ★ ★ ★ / Movie: ★ ★ ★
Robert Kojder
