Spania lui Franco

Aseara am vazut, impreuna cu Flo, No Country For Old Men. Am fost impresionati de jocul lui Javier Bardem si, pe urma, am inceput sa caut pe Internet despre el.

Am fost surprins sa descopar ca este chiar politistul din Carne Trémula al lui Almodóvar.

Citind pe IMDb despre Carne Trémula, film pe care l-am vazut acum aprox. 10 ani la Centrul Cultural Francez (intr-o seara cand ningea ceva de vis, precum zilele astea), am ramas impresionat de urmatoarea prezentare a filmului, facuta de cineva din Londra. Povesteste despre Spania lui Franco si sunt atatea paralele cu Romania lui Ceausescu.

Puterea cuvintelor bine gasite. Cititi.

Spain, more than most nations, has to deal with its ghosts. The Franco years were a time of enforced stasis, a period when no creativity was allowed to thrive, and progress of any kind was suppressed ruthlessly.

A false mentality was imposed on the nation, a communal fantasy looking back in time to a supposedly innocent 'golden age'. Spaniards were forced to see themselves and their culture in terms of Carmens and castanets, fans and fandangos.

A people was frozen in time for forty years, and fed on a diet of synthetic movies and novels which summoned up a sexless, crime-free rural idyll, Franco's concept of nationhood. While the West had the Rolling Stones, Spain had troubadors in sombreros.

The galloping modernity which has transformed Spanish society in a single generation has given the young adults of today an interesting 'window' on history. While the West has moved smoothly from Sinatra to Sid Vicious, from Marilyn Munroe to Marilyn Manson, Spain has a deep chasm between today and yesterday.

Almodovar is intensely concerned with this gap, and his films serve two functions in respect of it. They analyse the social forces which created it (and were spawned by it), and they help Spain to bridge the barranco.

It is time now for Spain to move on.

Ia spuneti-mi, nu vi se pare ca seamana cu Romania lui Ceausescu? Aceeasi fatarnicie victorian-totalitara, aceleasi mituri in loc de realitate, aceeasi negare a violentei si a schimbarii. Modernitate tzinuta sub oboroc si care, o data capacul ridicat, tzashneshte cu puterea si cu fierbintzeala aburului. Shi opareshte.

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