Rafael Azcona - The script was the art. The biggest name in Spanish cinema and the master of irony dies at 81.
For the main part of his glorious career, Rafael Azcona the writer, the scriptwriter and the exceptional character he was, refused to appear in public, to grant interviews, to attend movie premiers or to appear in photographs. He did not want to take part in glittering events allegedly staged for the producers of exceptional work in the art of making up stories, of providing meaning, of organizing and developing some else's arguments and ideas or adding an unmistakable signature to the best cinema ever produced in this country.
Azcona was rightfully revered in the movie industry. Critics adored him and any barely knowledgeable and grateful moviegoer was conscious that this man had a devastating talent, and that tickets must be paid for films featuring his name, regardless of the final outcome. But he kept to himself, without the need for showing off or for public recognition. He just did his work in an exemplary manner, was paid for it and that was the end of it. He was a major artist and I guess he never had any doubt about that obvious fact. He always behaved in a very professional manner, like the best professional working in films in a natural manner, without drawing attention to himself, without fuss and without a doctoral thesis. For fifty years he threw his caustic talent and fearsome eyes an ears into films to portray life and his incorruptible and clear vision of people and things, together with his sarcastic, non-dualistic and thorough knowledge of daily misfortunes, and his ability to capture the mood and language of the street. His pursuit of reality was relentless, in his efforts to avoid lying, dressing up, manipulating or embellishing his believe that nothing is either black or white but quite the opposite. His was a true realism and at times his characters and their behaviour and circumstances evolved into degrees of surrealism.
His long, complex and prolific work was shot in colour and black and white by some directors who identified with his screenplays and by others who did not quite catch his permanently disturbing universe. There are some excellent colour films adapting Azcona´s screenplays, but I have always found his brightest and purest essence in four of his black and white masterpieces which smell of Spain through and through; of a black, poor, authentic, fierce and deeply humane Spain. The films were shot between 1958 and 1963 by Italian Director Marco Ferrari and Valencian Director Berlanga. Every thing remains in state of grace in The Little Flat, The Little Car, Placid and The Executioner. No matter if you have watched then a hundred times, because they are still current. They are like admiring Goya´s paintings or reading Valle-Inclán books. Azcona´s signature and scathing, brilliant and disturbing universe are undoubtedly behind them. And with due respect for the directors of those work of arts, it is obvious that the films embrace two creative complementary talents who transform an explosive written material into lasting images. The films should be compulsory screened at schools to learn Spanish History. It is scary. And sad too.
Azcona was rightfully revered in the movie industry. Critics adored him and any barely knowledgeable and grateful moviegoer was conscious that this man had a devastating talent, and that tickets must be paid for films featuring his name, regardless of the final outcome. But he kept to himself, without the need for showing off or for public recognition. He just did his work in an exemplary manner, was paid for it and that was the end of it. He was a major artist and I guess he never had any doubt about that obvious fact. He always behaved in a very professional manner, like the best professional working in films in a natural manner, without drawing attention to himself, without fuss and without a doctoral thesis. For fifty years he threw his caustic talent and fearsome eyes an ears into films to portray life and his incorruptible and clear vision of people and things, together with his sarcastic, non-dualistic and thorough knowledge of daily misfortunes, and his ability to capture the mood and language of the street. His pursuit of reality was relentless, in his efforts to avoid lying, dressing up, manipulating or embellishing his believe that nothing is either black or white but quite the opposite. His was a true realism and at times his characters and their behaviour and circumstances evolved into degrees of surrealism.
His long, complex and prolific work was shot in colour and black and white by some directors who identified with his screenplays and by others who did not quite catch his permanently disturbing universe. There are some excellent colour films adapting Azcona´s screenplays, but I have always found his brightest and purest essence in four of his black and white masterpieces which smell of Spain through and through; of a black, poor, authentic, fierce and deeply humane Spain. The films were shot between 1958 and 1963 by Italian Director Marco Ferrari and Valencian Director Berlanga. Every thing remains in state of grace in The Little Flat, The Little Car, Placid and The Executioner. No matter if you have watched then a hundred times, because they are still current. They are like admiring Goya´s paintings or reading Valle-Inclán books. Azcona´s signature and scathing, brilliant and disturbing universe are undoubtedly behind them. And with due respect for the directors of those work of arts, it is obvious that the films embrace two creative complementary talents who transform an explosive written material into lasting images. The films should be compulsory screened at schools to learn Spanish History. It is scary. And sad too.
EL PAÍS - CARLOS BOYERO 26/03/2008