An arid, earthy and mystical Valencia comes to theaters

I will always respect filmmakers who strive to follow an unpopular path. And there is no doubt that Alberto Morais's journey leads him to a lonely place: his is an intractable path in the will to asceticism, which has never been so evident as in The black earth, a film that portrays the interior of the Valencian Country with the telluric mysticism and dramatic aridity with which Bruno Dumont knocked on the doors of cinephilia almost three decades ago. At the center of the story we find Laia Marull (who had previously worked with the director on The waves and The mother) in the role of María, a woman who, shrouded in an aura of failure, returns to her hometown to work with her brother in the family business, an industrial mill. Also joining the cast is Miquel (Sergi López), a man with a troubled past but with a peculiar sensitivity and, also, a supernatural gift for influencing others. The intimacy that develops between them provides the most unexpected and warm moments in a film that, on the other hand, fails to convincingly modulate its most hostile twists, especially with regard to the martyrdom to which it ultimately subjects Marull's character. An imbalance derived from a self-imposed and somewhat affected rigidity that also extends to some of the actors, whom Morais treats as Bressonian models and who at times seem to struggle to avoid following the instinct that would lead them to a more naturalistic register.