THE SCRIPT: On
our way to Asturias, where we worked and played billiards in our
free time between meals, Gonzalo and I stopped at a restaurant in
Frómista. Against all expectations, over the roast lamb and autumn
stew, the music of a Western was heard through the loudspeakers. I
don't know if it was then that we decided that the plot of our film
wasn't going to be much different than that of the classic scheme
that characterizes most Western movies. As a matter of fact, when
one writes with Gonzalo, not much is decided, one rather lets the
ideas run their course and you watch them as they gallop. You aim
your guns at the horses that make it to the end of the meadow and
return with their riders still in the saddle. One shoots to kill
but you give them the opportunity to defend themselves. The
survivors are then invited to the big battle. On the battlefield,
shooting the referee and the football is forbidden, but one leaves
time for love and humor. The epics of uncertainty overfly the final
result. Those who are going to die and live must dance together
because under no circumstances is joy negotiable.
MANUEL HIDALGO.