Blanca Portillo embodies Teresa of Ávila, also known as Santa Teresa de Jesús, in Teresa, a film directed by Paula Ortiz. The depiction presents the nun as a mystic, a writer, and the founder of the Discalced Carmelites in 1562, a movement later associated with Saint John of the Cross. The history of cinema includes other notable visions of Teresa: Carlos Saura explored the life of San Juan de la Cruz with Dark Night in 1989, starring Juan Diego. Earlier screen portraits appear in Scenes from the Life of St. Teresa, a 1926 world film; Teresa de Jesús, released in 1961 and directed by Aurora Bautista with Juan de Orduña; and two television series by Pedro Amalio López and Josefina Molina, the latter featuring Concha Velasco and a moody interpretation by Ray Loriga and Paz Vega as the saint. Now Blanca Portillo brings the role to life with a performance that moves between natural settings and visionary sequences. Adapted from Juan Mayorga’s work Language in Pieces, the film draws on the Book of Life of Jesus Christ of St. Teresa and opens this Friday. A conversation with Portillo reveals a distinctive cinematic vision of the project and its contemplative, measured pace.
Shooting the film was not conventional, given the mystical revelations surrounding St. Teresa and the post-production work that followed. How did the experience feel?
There was a sense of being anchored in a single space rather than moving through multiple locales. The scenes were shot in natural environments, which created a comfortable working rhythm. Portillo had a close connection to the material, due to a friendship with Juan Mayorga and familiarity with the project. Nevertheless, filming occurred in the height of summer, the nun’s attire adding a layer of heat and physical strain to the process.
Was the text itself challenging for you as an actor?
The text is demanding, especially for someone not inclined toward religious devotion. It requires delivering deeply complex lines as if they were perfectly ordinary. The production favored long continuous takes, a choice that amplified the film’s meditative atmosphere. It is a rare experience that may not be repeated in the same way again.
How did Portillo approach a character who is both real and deeply mystical?
The film does not pursue a strict historical chronology. Instead, it centers on inner conflict, doubt, and contradiction rather than turning points. Although countless books exist about Teresa, the film seeks to illuminate the burdens she bears within, a psychological landscape that makes her both recognizable and elusive.
You have spoken of working with real figures such as Teresa, Concepción Arenal, or Maixabel Lasa. Is it easier to inhabit a role grounded in documented reality when the writers and director offer a largely original creation for the screen?
In the case of Maixabel Lasa, Portillo uses a grounded understanding of the person to inform her portrayal, yet she does not imitate. The key lies in entering the character’s inner pain and treating the portrayal as a personal, living experience. With Teresa and Concepción Arenal, the process involves imagining the inner life of a historical figure while respecting the lines drawn by the script and the director’s vision.
Do you approach all characters in the same way?
The approach remains consistent: study what can be known and let that inform a sense of the character’s personality. The interpretation must feel authentic to the individual and to the moment in which they exist within the story. There is a responsibility to honor the inner truth of each figure, whether fictional or real.
Teresa opens this week, while a separate stage production, The Mother of Frankenstein, continues at the National Theatre in Madrid. How do you perceive the differences between cinema and theater, and what distinctions arise in your work?
Both forms demand discipline, focus, and an acute sense of responsibility. The pressures may differ—stage work unfolds in real time with immediate audience feedback, while cinema allows for more controlled assembly and editing—but the core challenge remains. In both realms, the actor contends with the weight of expectations. The theater offers the option to step back and regroup after a performance has begun, whereas cinema fixes the choreography through post-production and the director’s cut. Ultimately, Portillo notes, the two disciplines share the same demand for truth and commitment, even as they test the actor in different ways.