‘mercy’
interpreters Ángela Molina, Manel Llunell, Ana Polvorosa, María León, Antonio Durán, Macarena Gómez, Daniel Freire, Songa Park, Alberto Jo Lee
Year 2022
premiere January 13, 2023
★★★★
Eduardo Casanova’s debut, ‘skins’, announced a singular voice in Spanish cinema. He emerged as a filmmaker who refuses to settle into a single mold, crafting a vivid universe where grotesque whimsy coexists with naive tenderness. His work invites viewers into a world that feels uncensored, fearless, and openly experimental, the kind of cinema that provokes a first instinct and then a second look.
That audacity didn’t fade with the first film. On the contrary, Casanova’s second feature deepens the inquiry, revealing layers that reward patient attention. The director’s latest effort is both fiercely inventive and unflinching, a testament to a voice that keeps pushing past comfort zones while maintaining a personal, unmistakable cadence.
‘mercy’ centers on a tightly wound relationship—tension between a mother and her son—that unfolds with a concentrated, almost chamber-film precision. Libertad, the mother, becomes a potent figure at the center of a slowly intensifying dynamic. Mateo, her son, is portrayed with a care that makes his world feel both intimate and claustrophobic. The film builds a claustral atmosphere where affection can turn suddenly sharp, and the boundary between care and control blurs into a troubling pathology.
Libertad stands as a totemic presence, a forceful personality whose influence ripples through every scene. The character’s name, chosen with almost ceremonial weight, casts a shadow over the narrative, inviting reflection on how motherhood can be both a sanctuary and a prison when fear and expectation take on a life of their own. The performances, especially the rendering of the son’s experience by a young performer who embodies restraint and intensity in equal measure, anchor the film’s emotional economy in palpable human detail.
Casanova’s approach invites a close reading of the film’s structure. Rather than a straightforward linear arc, the storytelling navigates a double rhythm: a steady, almost ritualistic progression coupled with sudden,侵 intrusive shocks that disrupt the sense of safety. This dual pirouette mirrors the film’s larger preoccupations with power, protection, and the price of not letting go. In this way, Casanova nods to a lineage of movement and melodrama that includes early works by Julio Medem, reimagined through a modern sensibility that privileges texture, color, and sound as narrative engines. The result is cinema that feels both liberated and precise, where every gesture carries weight and every glance adds a layer of meaning.
In terms of subtext, the film translates a broad critique of patriarchal and maternal pressure into a visually striking language. The story uses the private sphere to reflect on political and social structures, implying that personal dynamics can reveal wider systems of control. The imagery—often striking, sometimes stark—works in concert with a score that amplifies mood without overpowering the scene. The synthesis of visuals, sound, and performance makes the work feel like a living painting—dynamic, unsettling, and deeply expressive.
Another facet of the film is its handling of space and confinement. The setting itself becomes a character, shaping the characters’ possibilities and the pace of their encounters. The intimate scale invites viewers to lean in, to notice textures, angles, and the rhythm of dialogue in a way that rewards careful, attentive viewing. The outcome is a narrative that lingers well after the final frame, inviting contemplation about the complexities of love, autonomy, and the responsibilities that come with close proximity.
‘Religiousness’ emerges as a companion piece in the same collection, a spooky tale that doubles as a tribute to the artistic potential of visual storytelling. It operates as a metaphor, yet it also showcases a remarkable command of composition, color, and texture. The music and sound design work as a living instrument—pulling, nudging, and sometimes disorienting the viewer. This cinematic piece moves with a hypnotic cadence, drawing you into a dreamlike space where emotions are rendered with a tactile, almost sculptural clarity. The experience is immersive, at once alluring and unsettling, and it lingers in the mind as a striking example of how sound and image can fuse into a compelling mood rather than a conventional plot device.
The collection as a whole stands as a bold statement from a filmmaker unafraid to chart his own course. Casanova’s cinema—rooted in audacity, in a fearless curiosity about human vulnerability—offers a rich field for discussion. Viewers are invited to witness a filmmaker who treats genre expectations with a wink and a challenge, one who builds a world that is as provocative as it is sincere. The emotional climate may be intense, but the artistry remains clear: a commitment to truth through imaginative risk, and a belief that cinema can speak with piercing honesty when allowed to roam beyond conventional boundaries.