La terra negra [+leggi anche:
recensione
intervista: Alberto Morais
scheda film] opened the Premiere section of the 40th edition of the Cinema Jove film festival. We spoke with its director, Alberto Morais – born in Valladolid and raised in Valencia – who returns to cinema following The Mother [+leggi anche:
recensione
trailer
intervista: Alberto Morais
scheda film] (2016).

Cineuropa: How did this partnership with Panama come about?
Alberto Morais: I know a producer from there, and since it’s also an international co-production, not only does it gain points for ICAA support, but it also enables the film to be released in Panama and Venezuela. In fact, I have a project right now, a road movie about walkers, which will also be a co-production with Panama.

Why open your film with a still image from Francisco de Zurbarán's painting Agnus Dei (Latin for Lamb of God)?
That’s the introduction of the character Miquel, played by Sergi López. In the past, opening credits appeared like this: over a still image. I wanted to use Bach's music and that painting to transport the viewer into a mystical, supernatural and sacred universe, with the sacrificial lamb. Catholic culture has such a hold on us in this country that I wanted to reclaim it for myself – something that’s not original, having been done by Bresson, Dreyer and Pasolini – in order to dignify those who have been disenfranchised and defeated by the system. Those of us made to feel like failures by this positivism and turbo-capitalism — where we become our own executioners — often carry an internal dialogue filled with self-hatred.

You described the film here at Cinema Jove, as “a humanistic film with sacred elements”. Do we need more humanism?
I think so, very much so. I’m an atheist, raised in an atheist and far-left family. But Rossellini was once asked if he was the father of neorealism, and he replied that he had a vital attitude rooted in love for one's neighbour. That deeply Christian phrase expresses a profound humanism, as it does not view others as strangers. I say that I don’t love my neighbour, but rather my fellow man. And that idea runs through all my films: a search for humanism with sacred overtones, but without guilt or divine punishment. A genuine humanism, full of generosity, like in Where Is the Friend's House? by Abbas Kiarostami. For me, that’s a neorealist film: Aki Kaurismäki and Hirokazu Koreeda are also among them, as are the early films of Víctor Erice.  That’s the kind of cinema that interests me, because I’m in love with it. I’ve ventured into new waters with the humanistic yet somewhat supernatural element of La terra negra. Interestingly, this is something that women perceive more than men.

The faces in the film are harsh and chiselled, framed in static shots... which also evokes religious iconography.
Yes, exactly. That's why I use close-ups and classic shots. As for the performances, it's not that I’m trying to defend a different style, but conventional acting doesn't work in my films. I don't believe Brad Pitt or Robert de Niro when they act, because I see the actor, not the character. I want the actor to disappear as much as possible. And to do that, they have to unlearn everything they’ve been taught, which is a lot.

Where does such a special story as La terra negra come from?
It’s inspired by real events. The character of María (Laia Marull) is based on a friend who lived in a village in Asturias. And Miquel is drawn from two people: an alcoholic friend, a genuine, unfiltered guy who lived on the streets; and another man I met while drunk in the Lavapiés neighbourhood, who told me he’d been in prison. The film is a compendium of stories from my past.

The actors seem particularly committed...
They helped me a lot, even on a production level. They believed in the project, and we’ve remained friends since the shoot. It’s something I value; it’s been a gift. There’s humanism in them too: they’re real people. Everyone is different, of course, but I feel at home when I'm with them.

Why divide the film into two parts, entitled Dies Irae and Via Crucis?
The misery of fear begins to darken the characters until the day of wrath arrives. For Laia's character, as in any requiem, there’s a Via Crucis, a Way of the Cross, that she must follow, and in the end, so must all the other characters, because everything falls apart. But La terra negra ends on a hopeful note.