The Nights of Tefía: A Candid Look at a Dark Chapter

The Nights of Tefía: A Sensitive Look at a Dark Chapter

Mark Ruiz, born in Madrid in 1999, emerges in cinema and television through works that include Cousins, Las leyes de la frontera, Loop, and Mothers: love and life. Michael of Arc, also from Madrid and born in 1965, stands out as a playwright, screenwriter, theater and film director, and actor. He directed Lalola and La stick boba on television and worked as a translator for El comisario and Hospital Central. Together they are the creator, co-director, and lead performer behind the series Tefía’s Nights, crafted with a responsive sensibility.

Airam is a shy and insecure young man who enters a concentration camp during the 1960s. He carries a burden of blame, shaped by a single intimate encounter with his first love. This character embodies Miguel del Arco’s aim to portray those who arrive at the camp for the people they love.

The creator and team faced a fear: would audiences want to watch the show? Miguel del Arco reflects on two concerns. First, the topic of Francoism remains a sensitive subject in this country. The legacy of Francoism can seem taboo, prompting a tendency to silence or sanitize opposing viewpoints. The second concern was practical: a series about a concentration camp in a moment when entertainment often leans toward rapid consumption. Yet, the project was never about denying gravity; it was about presenting the human capacity to seek meaning even in horror. Fun and thought can coexist, and the team did not need to be convinced to pursue this story.

Drama anchors the narrative because the events must be told, but the series also offers moments of escape. Audiences are granted a pause, a chance to breathe amid the intensity.

Even though Spain no longer lives under a dictatorship, the need for a respite remains. The prisoners’ lives require some hold on hope, and humor becomes a constant source of resilience. The real example of artists continuing their work in a German concentration camp informs this approach. The aim was to avoid a sanitized portrayal, inviting viewers to reflect on how terrible it was while still wanting to watch it unfold.

When Marcos Ruiz took on his role, he felt a deep responsibility for how his character would be presented. The project, with its clear vision from Miguel, promised a faithful and respectful storytelling approach. Rehearsals reveal a shared commitment, and the cast grows into their parts as the work progresses.

The character Airam is supported by La Vespa, a lively and seasoned presence in the camp played by Patrick Criado. The dynamic between Airam and La Vespa—along with other ensemble members—is shaped by unspoken communication and the power of gaze. The actors learned to convey much without words, relying on expression and connection rather than dialogue alone.

Marcos Ruiz, reflecting on the collaboration, notes that the unspoken communication between him and Criado created a powerful cell within the story. The group is led by La Vespa, whose energy, optimism, and strength help the others survive. Yet trust remains a fragile thing; the characters must guard themselves to avoid being hurt again.

Miguel emphasizes three overlapping worlds in the series: the stark black-and-white portrayal of the concentration camp, the vibrant color of a cabaret-inspired fantasy, and a timeline spanning from 2004 to the present. The initial concept involved rendering the camp in monochrome while painting the cabaret scenes in bright, imagined color. The 2004 segments required a more realistic color palette. The challenge lay in achieving a seamless transition between these worlds without losing narrative momentum. The art direction aimed to reveal beauty within horror, spotlighting the characters’ humanity through a formal, expressive style.

The contrast between the black-and-white and the colored sequences extends to the set design. The color choices, such as a pistachio-green stairway leading to the principal’s building and other vivid accents, were deliberate, echoing symbolic flags and the struggle to find meaning amid chaos. The production team enjoyed experimenting with color to create a striking counterpoint to the bleakness of the setting. Even the smallest props and color cues were chosen to convey mood and memory, making the visuals an essential part of the storytelling.

Miguel believes it was crucial for the audience to confront the horror directly while still feeling a pull to watch. Marcos remembers that the team filmed the concentration camp sequences first, followed by the cabaret scenes, a decision that helped the actors inhabit the environment more convincingly. The immersion extended to daily routines—diet and rehearsals became part of the process, with conversations about who ate tofu versus smoked salmon highlighting the practical realities of the cast’s endurance.

Questions about whether the series is necessary arise naturally in discussions about memory and history. Miguel argues that knowing where the country comes from is vital, especially in a climate where some politicians downplay historical memory or dismiss its lessons. The series stands as a reminder of fundamental rights, emphasizing the urgency of staying vigilant about protection and empathy for those who suffered under repression.

The cast and crew explore a spectrum of experiences during the Franco era, including characters who faced persecution for their sexuality and others who navigated lives hidden away in closets. The portrayal seeks to capture the complexity of human stories under oppression without reducing them to stereotypes. Characters such as La Sissi, a transgender woman who has not undergone surgery, and La Pinito, a mature figure who endures abuse, are presented with nuance and care. The goal is to depict resilience, vulnerability, and the various ways people sought to live with dignity despite the system’s cruelty.

In sum, The Nights of Tefía is a candid, provocative examination of memory, power, and humanity. It invites viewers to witness the past with honesty, to understand its lasting impact, and to reflect on the enduring need for empathy and justice in the present day.

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