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.

It's a summer of new films for Laia Marull, who has had films on the bill for a few weeks now. Laura Mañá's comedy The irresponsible ones and on September 5th the rural drama will premiere The black earth, by Alberto Morais. Between promotions, the Barcelona actress devours The impossible goodbyes (La Magrana, translated by Héctor Bofill and Hye Young Yu), the novel by South Korean Nobel Prize winner Han Kang about a woman who must go to a friend's house to take care of her bird while she is in the hospital. The house is on Jeju Island, where the protagonist discovers the traumatic past of her friend's family, which is also South Korea's: a massacre in which more than ten thousand people were killed. "The truth is that it is not a book for the summer, but more for the winter," says Marull. "I haven't finished it yet, but I am fascinated. It is a novel that pricks your soul from the first moment, and I am enjoying it very much."

They call themselves "the three Marias: poop, shit, and trash." Lila, Andrea, and Núria don't need to explain any chapter of their lives because they've shared them all, even if they've taken very different paths. Now they're crossing fifty, and each one is in crisis in their own way. The one who's in the worst situation—because things are always worse—is Lila, who has separated and spends her days tracking her ex's location on her phone. To console her, the friends agree to spend a weekend at an incredible house that Núria's new Italian vibe has given them.