In a village in the Valencian Country where survival is the only hope for the losers of the Civil War, a housewife carefully cuts the shells off orange peels and soaks them in water to soften them. She then fries them and mixes them with a cheap flour paste. This "potato omelet without eggs or potatoes" is one of the "hunger recipes" that Celia Rico Clavellino (Seville, 1982) discovered while researching how to bring to the screen the world he described Rafael Chirbes in the novel The good letter"It was very important to me to highlight hunger, one of the hardest things there is," the director explains. "But I must say that the orange shell omelet isn't as bad as it seems; we cooked it, and it's not bad."

Perhaps suggested by the title, The good letter invites us to look at her handwriting. We are faced with a tale of cinematic writing equivalent to the cursive script of those times when more people knew how to write with a pen than with a keyboard. In other words, the Sevillian director Celia Rico Clavellino He writes with images from a place of neatness and elegance, from a place of sobriety and classicism. But, alas, he also writes as if he were writing with a lined notebook. That is, without deviating from the guidelines established by many other previous works. So, voluntarily, The good letter It's a film that opts for a classic, understandable and prosaic, but also depersonalized realism.