Vibrant in the most maximalist of senses, La Bola Negra is as loud and proud in its thematic convictions as it is in its stellar craft.
Literature is vital to our humanity, in part because it’s proof of life. The written word can be a historical recounting, but it can also be how ordinary people – especially those from marginalised communities – fight back in their own silent way, if only by proving their existence. La Bola Negra, an ambitious queer drama from directors and partners Javier Calvo and Javier Ambrossi (known together as los Javis), understands this at a fundamental level. It’s the basis that sets the stage for a profound new picture.
The title comes from an incomplete play by Federico García Lorca, unfinished due to Lorca’s murder in 1936. The most striking known element of the work is that it was Lorca’s first play to feature an overt homosexual theme, Lorca being homosexual himself. To fill the gaps, los Javis also adapted elements of Alberto Conejero’s play La piedra oscura. By hybridising these sources and focusing on the central theme of queer identity, los Javis capture emotional truths so powerful that their portrayal across generations underscores their resonance.
Three different timelines make up the story: in 1932, a young man named Carlos (Milo Quifes) attempts to gain membership to a casino, only to be denied due to rumours of his supposed homosexuality. In 1937, a trumpeter turned reluctant Nationalist soldier, Sebastián (Guitarricadelafuente), is tasked with guarding a Republican prisoner named Rafael (Miguel Bernardeau), yet the two begin to form an unexpected connection. These two stories, and their connection, become clear in 2017 when a historian and playwright, Alberto (Carlos González), receives an unusual inheritance upon the death of his estranged grandfather: pages of a manuscript long thought lost.
At first glance, these may seem like three separate stories. But all are united by common themes – chief among them being the search for identity. All three – Carlos, Sebastian and Alberto – are queer men who are wrestling with their sexuality. Alberto is out and proud, but makes sexuality and queer history a specialist subject of his work, suggesting that there’s still some soul-searching left to do – particularly as he is not on good terms with his flippant mother Teresa (Lola Dueñas). Meanwhile, Carlos denies his sexuality, and Sebastian appears to be discovering it for the first time. Each plotline works as its own story of self-acceptance. Together, they serve as a grand ode to historical and contemporary LGBTQ+ resilience, especially against the might of generational shame and rejection.
Los Javis and team’s opulent filmmaking ensures that the audiovisual medium serves this ode in full force. In the opening credits, sepia photography is infiltrated by the pink colouring of certain unidentified individuals, showing that the queer community has always existed, even during the harshest, most prejudiced times. It’s a small but loving choice that paves the way for the rest of the picture’s unfiltered creativity. Alberto Gutiérrez’s editing ensures the three storylines flow together and feed into one another with hypnotic ease, with each storyline’s purpose and themes becoming clear as revelations emerge in the other two. The film’s 155-minute length – a huge runtime – passes by fairly breezily as a consequence, a testament to how tightly woven the storytelling is.
Gris Jordana’s cinematography leaps off the screen, weaponising the various setpieces from each storyline to underscore the vitality of the themes. Colour plays a notable role in the picture’s aesthetic through its brightness. Carlos’s membership in the casino is decided by a blackball ballot (la bola negra translates to the black ball). The rest of the imagery appears to follow suit – bright, vivid colours populate Alberto’s story, where darker, grimmer colour schemes stick out in the other two; perhaps a sign of Alberto’s acceptance of sexuality opposite his counterparts, who face blatant homophobia as they try to navigate their own circumstances.
Historical recreations are astute in their attention to detail, giving weight to moments of violence, stigma, and suppression, in contrast to the familial drama of the modern storyline. Yet it also takes pride in its chosen subject matter of queer identity and community, displayed perhaps most proudly in a bombastic but raw moment between Sebastian and an open-minded culpetista (Penélope Cruz).
Dazzling performances bring this gorgeous filmmaking home, and the LGBTQ+ themes take on a metatextual dimension when you factor in the source material. Portraying internal anguish and uncertainty can amount to stilted performances in the worst cases, but each lead actor makes the internal external, their controlled expressions and use of silence in the face of opposition conveying their own relationships with sexuality in droves; their similar yet diverging storylines embrace pride and defy heteronormative constructs. By incorporating not just the chosen plays into its story, but the people who wrote them into its own unique tale, the film becomes a loud, assertive celebration of LGBTQ+ history and identity. It laments the lives lost to ignorance, prejudice and fear, but champions this side of the human experience with stylish, rambunctious vigour.
Telling such interpersonal stories makes the narrative feel like a whirlwind to a fault, smoothing out edges that might have remained if it had focused on one story rather than three. This includes the rather abusive dynamic between Teresa and Alberto, and the homophobia of the two 1930s time periods, which are certainly present but perhaps not as overt as they would’ve been in a more focused storyline. Yet the film’s impact is acutely felt, with los Javis’s zeal matching the earnest espousing of marginalised communities, paying tribute to the literary legacies of Lorca, Conejero, and the unsung stories of LGBTQ+ people across generations. Vibrant in the most maximalist of senses, La Bola Negra is as loud and proud in its thematic convictions as it is in its stellar craft.
La Bola Negra is showing in selected cinemas nationwide from November 6.
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