Opening Gala – Spanish Film Festival (Samana Sunrise) Rating
★★★★★
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The HSBC Spanish film festival opened recently across the country and I was lucky enough to attend the opening night Gala in Sydney. Taking over all 4 screens at the Palace Cinemas in Moore Park, they started the party with endless prosecco, Spanish cocktails, delicious paella, and a lively band that inspired guests to hit the dance floor. It was so much fun the film almost became an afterthought, but eventually the party had to stop as everyone meandered into their respective screens in a suitably Spanish way, well after the advertised starting time.
Directed by Rafa Cortes, Samana Sunrise (Amanece en Samaná in Spanish), is a romantic-comedy based on the play Cancún by Jordi Galcerán. Two married couples, Ale and Santi (Luisa Mayol and Luis Tosar), and Natalia and Mario (Bárbara Santa-Cruz and Luis Zahera), go on holiday in a Dominican resort to celebrate two decades of friendship. The carefree holiday quickly changes when Ale drunkenly confesses to a small deception that led to Santi dating and eventually marrying her instead of his original interest, Natalia. The next morning, Ale wakes up in shock to find Mario in her room and Santi acting as if he’s married to Natalia. The rest of the film (yes, really) is Ale slowly coming to realise her friends truly believe this new reality and are not just playing a lavish prank.
This ‘what if’ alternate reality device was the perfect set-up to explore deeper themes of fate and love, and how small decisions can dramatically impact our own lives and those of the people we care about. To its credit, the film was a lot of fun, and funny, with outstanding performances from the cast, especially Luis Zahera and Luisa Mayol.
The cinematography adequately captured both the beauty of the Samana landscape and the intimacy of the relationships. I’d like to have seen Cortés dive into the deeper themes that were set up so perfectly at the start. Spain has always had an extraordinary film culture, full of talent and inventiveness, so I’m excited to see more of the festival.
The HSBC Spanish Film Festival is on in Sydney until the 9th of July all around Australia. To book tickets to this years Spanish Film Festival (Samana Sunrise), please visit https://spanishfilmfestival.com/.
Spanish Film Festival – Mugaritz. No Bread, No Dessert Rating
★★★★★
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Paco Plaza’s “Mugaritz: No Bread, No Dessert” is a poetic documentary that explores the inner workings of one of the world’s most inventive restaurants – Mugaritz. Led by chef Andoni Luis Aduriz, a self-proclaimed non-leader steering his energetic staff with generosity and “stepping back”, the restaurant closes from November to April each year to recreate its thematic menu. For 2025, the culinary concept is “What Cannot Be Seen”.
Plaza’s wobbly, handheld camera is distracting as it allows us to observe the detailed process of creation, trial and perfection through the eyes of what appears to be an overly caffeinated voyeur. There are many scenarios which could have been left out, minimised or replaced with more moments of tension (more than the one shown) to alleviate the feeling of being in an hour-and-a-half board meeting.
The music, composed by Mikel Salas, is bizarre. Salas uses cutlery and frying pans in an effort to match the poeticism of the cuisine, yet ends up making one feel as if they are listening to an Apple iPhone alarm instead of a sumptuous musical score. However, visually, the documentary delights.
The pastoral Basque countryside, the streamlined, cosy restaurant and the new ways in which the fragile dishes are put together all combine to give the audience a real feast for the eyes. There is an entrée tea ceremony where the cups are made from frozen, green tea leaves; then comes a broth only reachable by breaking into an edible bone with a rock and notably a soup-like-substance whereby the diner has to lean down and lick it out of a mould made to look like…well, it’s naughty.
Although “No Bread, No Dessert” has been applauded for its appeal to the masses, this reviewer feels this will appeal especially to the restauranteur and food lovers. It is fascinating for the risk-taker-chefs and those who are interested in combining cooking with storytelling. As Aduriz himself says, it is “…small sparkles and little pearls”.
Spanish Film Festival – Babies Don’t Come With Instructions Rating
★★★★★
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Babies Don’t Come with Instructions is a 2024 Spanish comedy-drama film directed by Marina Seresesky and written by Marta Sánchez and Irene Niubó, based on the 2013 Mexican film Instructions Not Included.
Leo is a carefree womaniser, living a self-centred life in a small coastal town in the Canary Islands. His world is turned upside down when a woman from a brief, casual affair shows up, drops off their daughter, and leaves, making him responsible for her.
At first, Leo intends to return the girl to her mother, but his attempts fail. Forced to raise her, little by little, he learns how to be a father, and his values and priorities shift in unexpected ways. Years pass, filled with happiness, until the mother reappears intending to reclaim her daughter. Will he give her up easily, especially with a mystery illness?
Director Marina Seresesky has pulled out all stops to extract every nuance of Sanchez and Niubo’s script and given us a taste of the Canary Islands in all its scenic wonder.
The characters are well drawn, and the action is well paced. I particularly enjoyed the developing relationship between Leo and his ‘daughter’ Alba. It tugs at the heart strings and a tear or two!
Paco Leon’s Leo is vulnerable and takes us on a journey from a unexpected father to a devoted parent who cannot live without his daughter and wants to enjoy his little girl before time runs out! The scenes when he is climbing up buildings are beautifully photographed.
Maia Zaitegi’s Alba is everything a little girl should be – innocent, naïve, idealistic and devoted to her father. The scene when she returns to Leo after being taken to Munich by her biological mother is charged with emotion.
Silvia Alonso’s Julia has the difficult role of the mother who abandons her child and returns to get her eight years later. This could have resulted in a performance that creates a disagreeable character, but not so Alonso’s portrayal. One can see her viewpoint and we feel for her.
Malcolm Treviño-Sitté’s Modu is the best friend we all wish we had. He is loyal to his wife, but equally loyal to Leo and supportive especially when he learns of his life-threatening illness.
The remaining cast give solid performances that enhance the main characters and storyline.
It is interesting that the décor Alba’s bedroom grows as her relationship with her father grows. It is every little girl’s paradise with a swing, a slide from her bunk bed to the floor, toys everywhere and an immense picture wall of her and her father.
Babies Don’t Come With Instructions is a heart-warming comedy that is sure to please any theatre goer who is a parent or simply enjoys a good story with a message. It is a cinematic gem and definitely worth a watch!
Trust emerges as a standout film for this year’s St ALi’s Italian Film Festival, running nationwide at Palace Cinemas from September 18 to October 23. It invites viewers into an intricate psychological drama where love and fear dance together in a narrative that is as gripping as it is thought-provoking. Directed by the award-winning Daniele Luchetti and based on Domenico Starnone’s novel Confidenza, the film delivers an exploration of human emotion that lingers long after the credits roll.
The central figure in Trust is Pietro (Elio Germano), a well-respected teacher beloved by his students and admired by his peers. His reputation, built on his progressive pedagogical philosophy that affection trumps fear to inspire students, casts him as a pillar of his community. This idea of the “pedagogy of affection” becomes a thematic thread throughout the film, highlighting Pietro’s compassionate and encouraging nature. He’s the antithesis of the authoritarian teacher, choosing love over the fear of failure to guide his students toward their best selves. This progressive approach resonates with audiences, especially considering its relevance in the 1980s and ’90s when the film was set.
But a darker truth lies beneath Pietro’s moral righteousness and public adoration. His life takes an unexpected turn when he rekindles a relationship with a former student, Teresa (Federica Rosellini), one of the brightest minds he ever taught. After they meet again, Teresa confronts Pietro with a profound and unsettling declaration—she has always known about his affection for her, an affection he can no longer deny. Though the two begin a relationship, their dynamic becomes fraught with complexity and tension.
What starts as a seemingly genuine romance soon unravels into an obsessive and destructive bond. Teresa becomes aware of Pietro’s most closely guarded secret, a revelation that binds them together in a way that is almost stronger than love—through fear. The power of this secret is so immense that it threatens to undo the very foundation of their relationship, raising a central question that permeates the entire film: Is love more powerful than fear, or do these two emotions inevitably co-exist in a relationship built on vulnerability?
Luchetti masterfully plays with these concepts of love, fear, and honesty throughout the film. His direction ensures that the audience is never too comfortable, always wondering whether the bond between Pietro and Teresa is driven by genuine affection or by the terror of having their deepest fears exposed. The result is an exploration of how once-shared secrets can become weapons, altering the course of a relationship forever.
While Trust succeeds in exploring these weighty themes, there are moments when the film falters. Certain scenes feel unnecessarily drawn out, adding little to the overall narrative and making the film feel longer than its runtime suggests. As a thriller, Trust sometimes lacks the tension necessary to keep audiences on the edge of their seats, leaving a few key moments feeling flat. These pacing issues could have been addressed with tighter editing, which might have sharpened the film’s focus.
Despite these minor flaws, the performances are nothing short of extraordinary. Elio Germano delivers a nuanced portrayal of Pietro, a man whose inner turmoil is constantly simmering beneath his calm exterior. His ability to convey vulnerability and authority makes his character a fascinating study in contradiction. Federica Rosellini is equally impressive as Teresa, her performance embodying a mixture of longing, manipulation, and pain. Together, they create a volatile and captivating dynamic that anchors the film.
The supporting cast, including Vittoria Puccini as Nadia and Pilar Fogliati as Emma, adds further layers of complexity to the story. Isabella Ferrari’s portrayal of Tilde provides a sense of groundedness amidst the chaos of Pietro and Teresa’s relationship. Each performance enriches the film, allowing the audience to explore different facets of Trust, fear, and human interaction.
Ivan Casalgrandi’s cinematography elevates the emotional tone of the film. His use of shadows, light, and shots peering through windows door creates an atmosphere of quiet tension, echoing the characters’ internal battles. The set and costume designs also reflect the 1980s and ’90s setting, giving the film an authentic feel without distracting from the central narrative.
One of the standout aspects of Trust is Thom Yorke’s haunting score. Known for his ability to craft music that evokes deep emotion, Yorke’s contribution here is no different. His atmospheric soundscapes underscore the tension and emotional weight of the film, drawing the audience deeper into the story without overwhelming the performances. The themes of Trust are universal and timeless, making the film deeply relatable for audiences of all backgrounds. At its core, the film asks whether honesty, when laid bare, can strengthen or destroy a relationship. Can love survive when fear takes hold, or does fear inevitably erode Trust? These are the questions Luchetti leaves audiences grappling with, and their unresolvable nature is what makes Trust such an impactful film.
As the premiere film of the St ALi’s Italian Film Festival, Trust sets the tone for a fantastic lineup of Italian cinema. It challenges viewers to think deeply about the nature of human relationships, leaving them with more questions than answers, which is often the hallmark of a truly great film. Despite a few pacing issues, Trust succeeds as an emotionally resonant and visually arresting exploration of love, fear, and the secrets we hide from each other—and ourselves.
Film Review: Trust (2024) Directed by Daniele Luchetti Starring: Elio Germano, Federica Rosellini, Vittoria Puccini, Pilar Fogliati, and Isabella Ferrari Based on the novel Confidenza by Domenico Starnone Original music by Thom Yorke
