29/04/2025 - Ventura Durall’s documentary honours a sense of both scepticism and wonder through the story of a celebrated and divisive healer and his family

In his latest effort, Supernatural [+see also:
interview: Ventura Durall
film profile], Catalonian helmer Ventura Durall (The Two Lives of Andres Rabadan, The Offering [+see also:
trailer
film profile]) crafts an emotionally charged and visually poetic meditation on the enduring tension between science and spirituality. World-premiered in the international competition of the Thessaloniki International Documentary Festival last month and now playing in the World Showcase at Toronto’s Hot Docs, the feature investigates the legacy of André Malby, a celebrated — and divisive — healer whose influence extends far beyond his lifetime.

Anchored by two contrasting figures — Mathu, Malby’s son and a stoic physician, and Ana, an actress who believes Malby once saved her through telepathic means — Supernatural initially seems to set up a clash between empirical reason and mystical faith. However, Durall’s storytelling steers away from easy dichotomies. Instead, the film skilfully negotiates the ambiguous spaces where logic and belief entwine, exposing unhealed emotional wounds and the inescapable pull of personal history.

Mathu, a man of precision who finds solace in photographing birds, embodies rationalism and emotional distance. Ana, by contrast, embraces holistic practices and wears her emotions on her sleeve. Their interactions unfold through travels, intimate conversations and a tarot reading that symbolically frames their diverging worldviews. Yet as the narrative progresses, their stories converge, and Mathu’s protective barriers seem to slowly erode.

Commendably, Durall and his camera follow the protagonists with tact and sensitivity. Nonetheless, viewers may still sense that convincing Mathu to take part in this film was a demanding task and a delicate process. In any case, his presence gives the documentary some much-needed depth.

Meanwhile, the extensive archival footage — from Malby’s television appearances to cassette-recorded esoteric theories — paints a vivid portrait of a man who was both a media sensation and a magnetic, enigmatic figure in Spain’s cultural scene of the 1980s and 1990s.

Visually, Supernatural oscillates between grounded interviews and dreamlike sequences: flowing water, soaring birds and ethereal textures suggest the intangible realms that both Ana and Malby inhabit. These lyrical interludes, combined with raw, intimate imagery of textures and silhouettes, invite viewers to linger in uncertainty, rather than rush to conclusions.

Rather than choosing sides, Durall suggests that belief systems — rational or mystical — arise from deep-seated needs for healing and meaning. Slowly but inexorably, Supernatural manages to open up a humanistic dimension: we are all vulnerable to — and perhaps sustained by — the stories we choose to believe.

Ultimately, Supernatural is less about proving or disproving the supernatural, and more about tracing the emotional landscapes where healing occurs — or fails to do so. It is a tender, searching work that honours both scepticism and wonder, and one that resonates long after the credits roll.

Supernatural was produced by Spain’s Nanouk Films, and co-produced by France’s Massala Production and Belgium’s Harald House. London-based Taskovski Films is in charge of the picture’s international sales.