¡Oh Salvador Dalí, de voz aceitunada!
No elogio tu imperfecto pincel adolescente
ni tu color que ronda la color de tu tiempo,
pero alabo tus ansias de eterno limitado. (Federico Garcia Lorca – Oda a Salvador Dali)
No, I have not taken up Spanish, but to stay true to my passion for foreign languages, and thanks to my somewhat Latin heritage that allows me to understand some of the above, I decided it would be best to quote this part of “Ode to Salvador Dali” in its pure, original form. There are obviously translations of it available, but no matter how good, they still might miss some of the musicality of its first and most pristine form…
I decided to watch “Little Ashes” a long time ago, simply because the trailer seemed interesting enough. But I only did it now because, while working on a translation about Federico Garcia Lorca, I ran across the story of his special friendship with Salvador Dali and that rekindled my curiosity. But whether I’ll actually be able to write about this movie or just ramble incoherently in a failed attempt to describe just how much it impressed me… I don’t know.
I’ve mentioned before the musicality of Lorca’s poem. I suppose that only comes natural, given his huge talent for music too. But there’s also a very intense feeling of colour and depth, almost as if he was painting with words. And, somehow, all of these features are duplicated in the movie. It’s difficult to explain, as I can’t really point to what makes the film so special, but the general feeling is that of a perfect puzzle in which each piece clicks right into place, creating a seamless rendition of thoughts, feelings, colours and sounds, out of pieces that, taken separately, would be ridiculous, embarrassing, or even painful to watch.
I expect many of those who have watched the movie might dispute it for being overtly sexual, in particular in that which regards the sensual nature of the relationship between Federico and Salvador. But I suppose that’s how it had to be. They were both extremely sensitive artists, and overly sensual men – sensual, in this case, meaning entirely devoted to their senses and sensations. Their relationship – their passion – would not have been genuine if it lacked the sensual side. Still, placing too much emphasis on this aspect would mean missing the whole point. Because, beyond the physical tokens of affection and attraction, this is the story of two immense men sharing one immense passion. One that is so intensely lyrical and romantic it makes you cringe and gives you goose-bumps and then it makes you want to cry in awe...
You really can’t watch this movie without getting some sort of emotional reaction. In my case, it was mostly fascination – albeit a bitter-sweet one. You get caught in the story and you might find yourself taking sides. It’s difficult not to, when the director presents you with a sensitive, brilliant, passionately loyal Federico, and a troubled, sensual, unnervingly fickle Salvador. Also, Javier Beltrán’s interpretation of Federico is such that it takes you deep inside the character, far beyond the comfort zone, further yet from what we’d normally like to see in a movie. But then again, I doubt the film was made for entertainment and liking in the first place...
In fact, the movie is somewhat difficult to watch, particularly if you have the slightest homophobic feelings in your mind-frame. But if you don’t, it’s worth every second of it. Among all the things that have impressed me, there are two I’d really like to share. Or hint to, for those who haven’t seen the movie yet. One is the scene in which Federico and Salvador swim together in the sea at night. It is sort of a cinematographic equivalent of Beethoven’s “Moonlight sonata”, merged to a surreal play of lights and colour, silver and blue. It’s so intensely lyrical it takes your breath away...
The other is a line in a letter, further proof of how pure and intense this passion was. It’s when Federico writes “I think of you, and I’ve never thought more intensely in my life.... everything I am has been split apart.” He speaks of how his writing has been influenced by this feeling, how it’s taken him to a new level of understanding and how it allows him to reach the very essence of things. It’s what the movie does to us too, leading us behind close doors, behind the curtains, and letting us see what’s beyond the mask. Provided we’re willing to see it.
I decided to watch “Little Ashes” a long time ago, simply because the trailer seemed interesting enough. But I only did it now because, while working on a translation about Federico Garcia Lorca, I ran across the story of his special friendship with Salvador Dali and that rekindled my curiosity. But whether I’ll actually be able to write about this movie or just ramble incoherently in a failed attempt to describe just how much it impressed me… I don’t know.
I’ve mentioned before the musicality of Lorca’s poem. I suppose that only comes natural, given his huge talent for music too. But there’s also a very intense feeling of colour and depth, almost as if he was painting with words. And, somehow, all of these features are duplicated in the movie. It’s difficult to explain, as I can’t really point to what makes the film so special, but the general feeling is that of a perfect puzzle in which each piece clicks right into place, creating a seamless rendition of thoughts, feelings, colours and sounds, out of pieces that, taken separately, would be ridiculous, embarrassing, or even painful to watch.
I expect many of those who have watched the movie might dispute it for being overtly sexual, in particular in that which regards the sensual nature of the relationship between Federico and Salvador. But I suppose that’s how it had to be. They were both extremely sensitive artists, and overly sensual men – sensual, in this case, meaning entirely devoted to their senses and sensations. Their relationship – their passion – would not have been genuine if it lacked the sensual side. Still, placing too much emphasis on this aspect would mean missing the whole point. Because, beyond the physical tokens of affection and attraction, this is the story of two immense men sharing one immense passion. One that is so intensely lyrical and romantic it makes you cringe and gives you goose-bumps and then it makes you want to cry in awe...
You really can’t watch this movie without getting some sort of emotional reaction. In my case, it was mostly fascination – albeit a bitter-sweet one. You get caught in the story and you might find yourself taking sides. It’s difficult not to, when the director presents you with a sensitive, brilliant, passionately loyal Federico, and a troubled, sensual, unnervingly fickle Salvador. Also, Javier Beltrán’s interpretation of Federico is such that it takes you deep inside the character, far beyond the comfort zone, further yet from what we’d normally like to see in a movie. But then again, I doubt the film was made for entertainment and liking in the first place...
In fact, the movie is somewhat difficult to watch, particularly if you have the slightest homophobic feelings in your mind-frame. But if you don’t, it’s worth every second of it. Among all the things that have impressed me, there are two I’d really like to share. Or hint to, for those who haven’t seen the movie yet. One is the scene in which Federico and Salvador swim together in the sea at night. It is sort of a cinematographic equivalent of Beethoven’s “Moonlight sonata”, merged to a surreal play of lights and colour, silver and blue. It’s so intensely lyrical it takes your breath away...
The other is a line in a letter, further proof of how pure and intense this passion was. It’s when Federico writes “I think of you, and I’ve never thought more intensely in my life.... everything I am has been split apart.” He speaks of how his writing has been influenced by this feeling, how it’s taken him to a new level of understanding and how it allows him to reach the very essence of things. It’s what the movie does to us too, leading us behind close doors, behind the curtains, and letting us see what’s beyond the mask. Provided we’re willing to see it.
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