Málaga Talent-La Opinión de Málaga from the Prensa Ibérica group marks a very special kind of award. It is not a tribute to a nearly finished career, but a recognition of a career that still holds many valuable moments to come. There is so much more to do and to create. How does one earn it?
Carla Simón speaks with warmth about the recognition. She says she is very happy because when an award goes to someone whose work spans more than a single film, it feels earned and meaningful. She appreciates the Malaga Festival’s longstanding support for her projects and the strong, collaborative relationship they share.
Malaga has long distinguished itself by backing independent filmmakers who bring a distinctive voice. Directors such as Pilar Palomero, Elena Trapé, Alauda Ruiz de Azúa, and before them Laura Mañá and Gracia Querejeta have all won the festival’s top prize, the Biznaga de Oro. The interviewer asks whether the competition shows a particular sensitivity toward directors.
Simón reflects that the festival’s role became especially evident when she won with Summer 1993. At that moment, Malaga was a beacon for first films, helping to launch careers at a time when films begin to find their audiences. The festival’s support makes it easier for audiences to discover new voices, which is crucial for visibility and momentum in Spanish cinema.
This weekend, as the Goya Awards unfold, the conversation turns to Alcarràs and the arc of its life cycle after a bustling year of promotion and international premieres, including Oscar conversations. Is there a twinge of sadness?
She answers that the pace has been intense and that there have been ups and downs over the year. Still, she prefers to focus on new projects and the next steps rather than lingering on past successes. The energy of ongoing work keeps her moving forward.
Beyond autobiographical elements in her films, Simón becomes emotionally involved in her preparation. The question arises whether this immersion limits her to certain themes or whether she seeks change.
She explains that she cannot imagine making films any other way. Lighter projects fail to resonate, and cinema has become a way of life for her. After each shoot, she feels a weight lift and a renewal follows, even though there are personal challenges along the way. Yet the joy of making films and the personal growth that comes with each project outweigh the hardships, as demonstrated by how a family is carried into Alcarràs.
What has cinema taught her?
Simón describes cinema as a mode of being in the world. It trains you to notice gestures, human exchanges, and spoken words with heightened sensitivity. Teamwork and collaboration add value and invite contemplation about how people relate to one another. The beauty of cinema lies in the way a project evolves—how plans can go a different direction than expected, much like life itself.
Following Summer 1993 and Alcarràs, one wonders whether audiences truly know the director Carla Simón or if there are new themes and approaches she hopes to explore that might surprise viewers.
She smiles at the possibility of continued surprises. In a director’s career, every project should bring something new, a fresh challenge to embrace. Alongside current work, she looks forward to exploring new ideas that diverge from what she is doing now, signaling a willingness to expand beyond familiar territory.
Romería is mentioned as the next feature film, envisioned as a closing act to a trilogy about loss, belonging, and memory that began with The Summer of 93 and Alcarràs. Yet Simón also discusses conversations with her producer, María Zamora, about other ventures that extend beyond her own family and memory, suggesting there are stories she feels ready to tell after these films.
Watching and studying cinema closely has helped her identify the kinds of stories that excite her. Italian Neorealism looms large as a formative influence—filmmakers who captured raw emotion by working with everyday people and seeking truth. She also cites Lucrecia Martel and Claire Denis as directors whose work offers different kinds of inspiration: Martel through her scripts and the voices of her characters, Denis through her camera work and the way she follows emotional currents. A earlier film by Mar Coll, 3 Days with the Family, helped her understand that even one’s own family can be the subject of compelling cinema.
Her achievements, including a Golden Bear at the Berlinale and a forthcoming jury role, reflect remarkable momentum with only two films to her credit. Does this pace feel overwhelming? She feels fortunate and acknowledges the intense commitment required to reach this stage. Still, she believes that progress comes from moving forward one project at a time. Opening a door with each film allows new directions to emerge and keeps exploration alive beyond any single success.
The rapid rhythm of touring and interviews can clash with the slow, precise cadence of cinema. She notes that the different stages of production affect time differently: writing is solitary, filmmaking is collaborative, editing is intimate, and promotion involves many people. If cinema were only promotions and festivals, the creative conversation would stall. After Malaga and Berlin, she plans to step back from interviews and travel to recapture the natural rhythm of her work. Becoming a mother has also reshaped her sense of time and made her value it more than ever.
In conversations about reconciliation and gender in the world of cinema, the discussion often centers on whether such questions would be asked of male directors. Simón believes these issues remain unresolved and are still being built in the present. Previously observed viewpoints have evolved as women experience these realities behind closed doors. The goal is for a new generation of directors not to have to answer these questions, but to live and tell their stories. She wanted to focus on her films, yet the experiences surrounding women in cinema have a historical dimension that needs addressing.
Will motherhood influence her future creative concerns? She believes the emotional journey of becoming a mother will reshape her perspective. Family becomes a central theme in her storytelling, and the arrival of a child shifts the generational lens. The sense of family grows more expansive, moving from one’s own parents to a broader multi-generational view.
Her son Manel may come to recognize his mother through her films, a prospect she finds deeply meaningful. It reflects a memory continuity that she hopes will empower him to know her through cinema. And when asked about filming her son, she explains that she prefers not to overemphasize his presence. Time with children passes quickly, and she aims to capture moments of beauty without forcing the process, practicing filming for pleasure rather than obligation.