Little Ashes Promotional Blitz

Continuing our presentation of exclusive Little Ashes reviews, we have recruited two reviewers that were munificent to write and express their two cents. Starting us off is Evelyn James, who wrote a very well detailed assessment of the film. Following Evelyn’s account is a great comprehensive analysis by Lady Bracknell, whom we quoted a preliminary review from on Wednesday. Stay tuned for the third and final portion in our set of exclusive Raindance reviews!

 

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On Tuesday I was at the world premiere of Paul Morrison’s Little Ashes, a film which explores the relationships between three of Spain’s best known and most renowned artistic figures, Federico Garcia Lorca, Salvador Dali and Luis Bunuel, against a backdrop of political and ideological turmoil, and, eventually, the Spanish Civil War.

 

I should probably declare before I say anything else that I’m a massive fan of Bunuel’s films and a really big nerd about poetry from 20s and 30s Spain, tell you that Lorca wrote one of my favourite lines ever, I’m rather keen on Dali, and confess that hearing Robert Pattinson was playing him made me happy dance in my seat. In short, I was eight kinds of excited for this film before I’d seen so much as a sneaky set photo, so I had the most ridiculously high hopes and expectations. I’m glad to say, though, that it not only met my expectations, it surpassed them – it’s a really compelling film, thanks to a script and cast that really capture the vivacity and tension of the age, and is by turns charming, touching, and wonderfully funny, as well as desperately poignant.

 

The film focuses mainly on the relationship between Dali and Lorca, them meeting at university and discovering common ideas and goals, forging a friendship, finding mutual inspiration, and eventually having that turn into something more. Javier Beltran is a really engaging lead, playing Lorca’s conflict about his feelings for Dali with wonderful good-humour and a tangible longing that never turns cloying, and Robert Pattinson plays Dali as such a captivating mix of guileless charm, self-awareness and awkwardness in the early part of the film that it’s easy to see why Lorca would fall for him. Their relationship drives the film, from a burgeoning attraction to a nightmare dinner party, through artistic invention, homophobia, encroaching fascism, and eventually leads them to Cadaques. Bikes are stolen, kisses are shared, and Dali and Lorca wrestle with their consciences, and try to reconcile a desire for a life without limits with a world where such choices are dangerous. The relationship between the two is never anything less than utterly compelling, whether it’s Lorca praying in his room for having impure thoughts, Dali sketching, talking about the nature of art and effortlessly holding his attention, or them struggling to deal with the shift in their relationship as the boundary between friendship and more becomes blurred.

 

It’s not all about Dali and Lorca, though. It’s a truly great ensemble – Matthew McNulty is impressively imposing as Luis Bunuel, and Marina Gatell also stands out as Lorca’s girlfriend Margarita, who is trying to forge a career as a writer, and testing the limits of what she might be willing to sacrifice to keep Lorca. The film really comes alive when dealing with the various emotions at play between the four, the jealousies that arise around talent, the search for new modes of expression, and most poignantly, Margarita’s clear love for a man who is drifting away. The four of them make this a tale about a group of people who came together, inspired each other, ushered in a new age, and then fell apart, and for me that’s the key appeal of the film.

 

At points, Little Ashes really reminded me of The Motorcycle Diaries, in that it takes these historical figures who became so very iconic and introduces us to them as people. I think that’s one of the great successes of this film. I think it’s easy to look at a man like Dali, someone who became the ultimate exercise in persona creation, someone whose prodigious talent teeters on the very brink of seeming beyond comprehension, and think him a ridiculous genius. The wonderful, uncluttered script and Robert Pattinson and Javier Beltran’s performances, however, combine to give Dali a vulnerability and a warmth in the early part of the film that imbue his later affectations with real sadness. For the first time ever, Dali felt human to me. I think that’s what focusing on the relationship between him and Lorca really allowed to surface – his likeability, and his fragility, and the scenes where Lorca takes care of Dali – whether because he’s had too much to drink or he’s clearly haunted by something he can’t talk about – are amongst the best in the film. Mostly that’s due to Robert Pattinson’s quite uncanny ability to be endearing, and the amount of soul with which Javier Beltran interprets Lorca, and the interplay between them is enthralling. It was never anything other than utterly believable that they would be drawn together but never quite be together. I was left with a sense that there were always two Dalis, reality and fiction, that for a while the real Dali was in love, then became scared by the implications of what he felt and retreated into a fictionalised version from which he never quite had the courage to escape. A man who wanted to live without limits, but never quite did.

 

For me, the most striking moment is late in the film – Lorca sees Dali after a long time apart and discovers him immeasurably changed. Gone is the gauche, awkward, unintentionally charming Dali, and in his place is someone almost cruelly self-involved. After Lorca has left, though, we see a flicker of Dali’s real feelings, the person behind the facade, and it’s heartbreaking. That moment in particular gave me a real understanding of why Lorca is evident in Dali’s painting long after his death.

 

Settling on a favourite moment in a film like this is probably impossible, and there are so many scenes I could choose: Dali and Lorca on the beach, perfectly at ease; the scene where Dali paints and Lorca names Little Ashes; the moment where the moon comes out from behind the clouds and lights up the sea they’re swimming in, and they watch each other move through the shimmering water with glee and awe; Dali saying something I think we’d all like to say to examiners; Lorca and Bunuel talking, late at night, about what he should write about. But I think my favourite moment will probably prove to be the scene where Dali ditches his art class in favour of chasing Lorca down the street, hiding as he does so and eventually nipping in front of him, so he can act casual when Lorca spots him. It’s a really rare moment – sweet and immensely funny, with magical comic timing from Robert Pattinson. One of the biggest delights of the film for me was the sense of humour and life that permeates, and that was certainly a highlight in a film where highlights abound.

 

If you get the chance to see Little Ashes, please take it. It’s a compelling and engaging story about truly fascinating people, the cast don’t put a foot wrong, and even the soundtrack is utterly spell-binding, with moments of Arvo Part-esque stillness, snippets of Lorca’s poetry woven through to give a genuinely ethereal quality and tie the whole thing together. It’s the rarest of rare things – a film that is intelligent, warm, and lingers in your mind, long after the credits have rolled.

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