Fifteen years back, Alberto Rodriguez and his long‑time collaborator Rafael Cobos began documenting the harsh realities inside two emblematic prisons that marked the late Franco era: the Barcelona Model and the Carabanchel Model in Madrid. They gathered countless testimonies about the brutality, the deterioration of dignity, and the cruel treatment by prison authorities. Along the way, additional stories emerged, including Minimal Island and The Man with a Thousand Faces, and the pair wondered if this project would ever reach the light of day given its formidable scope.
The film Modelo 77 is deeply personal to the director, who this week is unveiling the 70th edition of the San Sebastian Festival. It may even form a trilogy with the earlier works, offering a stark snapshot of Spanish society during the transition and up to present times. It probes power structures, ideological rifts, and a fragile relationship between the individual and the system, all traced through scenes of oppression and the persistence of fascist remnants from the seventies to the present.
Rodriguez has described the project as an untold chapter that deserves to be read again. It feels like a page torn from the history books, a story that long remained forgotten. In the late seventies, the sense that everything was possible gave way to a harsher reality. A raw, almost animalistic thirst for freedom collided with the prisoners’ deprivation of it. The director sees in their resistance a powerful message, especially amid a troubling rise of far‑right movements across Europe and the United States.
The narrative unfolds over three years and centers on Manuel, a young inmate who enters the Modelo prison in 1976 and faces accusations of embezzlement. Within the walls, he witnesses numerous acts that challenge human dignity. The experiences, though brutal, gradually reveal a path toward solidarity. Manuel’s path runs alongside his cellmate Pino and a community of fellow prisoners who begin to recognize their rights and a shared resolve to confront the squalid conditions by joining a union linked to Copel, at Carabanchel.
Crafting key moments from this era proved to be a delicate task. The project is not a traditional documentary; it breathes through fiction while anchored in a credible historical framework. The director does not claim to be a historian. Instead, the focus rests on the emotional core of the story. Critical episodes, such as the 77 rebellion, brought together hundreds of men who showed up with determination, energy, and a willingness to protest so the outside world could learn what really happened inside.
Another pivotal moment comes a year after the 1975 prison revolt, when a grim door opened and 45 inmates found themselves with little hope for improvement. The escape unfolds not as an epic saga but as a quiet, almost poetic act of justice. It reflects a longing for freedom that is both fragile and luminous, an illusion that drives the characters forward even in the darkest hours.
In a period defined by intense individualism, Modelo 77 offers a counterpoint that emphasizes collective action and the power of unity. The director views this collective spirit as the key to addressing today’s challenges. The film becomes a chant for personal dignity and a critique of a system designed to isolate and disempower individuals, proposing that emancipation may come through organized, shared struggle.