Cannes Review: In The Beloved, Javier Bardem and Victoria Luengo Showcase Chemistry While Facing the Past

      There exists a particular group of accomplished film directors, such as Guido Anselmi and Ferrand, whose names are not widely recognized. Yet, you are likely familiar with 8½ and Day for Night—these are the films in which they feature. Esteban Martínez (Javier Bardem showcasing a raw performance reminiscent of his role in Iñárritu’s Biutiful), the protagonist of Rodrigo Sorogoyen’s latest film, The Beloved, undoubtedly falls into the realm of the greatest unrealized auteurs. Similar to Joachim Trier’s Sentimental Value, this movie offers less initially but ultimately delivers more than anticipated—it's yet another exploration of family tensions and the significance of art in their lives.

      Sorogoyen captures our interest right from the beginning, starting his film with a striking, 20-minute scene focused entirely on the dialogue between the two lead characters. As Esteban reconnects with his estranged daughter, Emilia (Victoria Luengo), the atmosphere is thick with discomfort and doubt. Like Skarsgård’s Gustav Borg, Esteban was destined for greatness, but that ambition has cost him dearly, especially the affection of his daughter. It's no surprise that the theme of masks is quickly established—it will take them time to shed their facades. Utilizing a basic shot-reverse method, Sorogoyen heightens the tension lurking beneath their forced smiles. Each cut slowly inches the camera closer, making the close-ups even more palpable, as if he is striving to tap into their inner selves.

      “How are you?” “Bien.” And you? “Bien.” How’s life? “Bien.” “Bien,” “bien,” “bien”—this single Spanish word ricochets back and forth faster than knives at a circus opening night. Its persistent repetition reveals much about their relationship, and then some. Up to this point, their small talk comes off as vague, illustrating the distance they have traveled apart over the years. Even when Esteban inquires about her mother (a former actress he left after their first film together), she responds with just another “bien.”

      While their characters inhabit separate worlds, Bardem and Luengo create an on-screen chemistry like no other. With every action, their estrangement reverberates; every “bien” acknowledges the underlying sorrow; with each trivial comment, the tension becomes more pronounced. They both recognize it, so, after a few moments, Esteban gets straight to the point. “What do you know about the conflict in the Western Sahara?” he asks, a rather unexpected question from a father during a reunion.

      Both Esteban, the filmmaker, and Esteban, the father, want her to play the lead in his new historical film. For Emilia, it feels like an odd inquiry. She’s an actress who has abandoned her Hollywood aspirations and now works as a waitress. Her life is stressful too; she removes her sweater and orders a glass of red immediately after finishing her first beer. “I’m gonna be tough,” Esteban asserts. As you might anticipate, this won't be the last time Bardem’s darker side emerges in The Beloved. Nevertheless, Emilia smiles gently as excitement simmers beneath the surface.

      The entire interaction reveals everything about them. One seeks reconciliation, while the other is prepared to rebel against the world, fueled by wounded pride. They recall old memories differently, such as the time they went to see the second Kill Bill. Esteban remembers it as a warm experience, but his daughter disagrees (“You turned up drunk and high”). Memories aren't dependable; they are often marred by painful gaps. This is why old wounds reopen, and they nearly come to blows, but Emilia ultimately accepts her father's proposal. Her curiosity and longing for her father prove stronger than resentment. It takes just sixteen minutes for their first argument to surface. The confrontation ends in a stalemate, but the second round is imminent—this time on the set of Esteban’s film.

      Sorogoyen is keen on observing his characters from the sidelines. As they begin filming, we witness Esteban and Emilia through the lens of the film set, its crew, and all the equipment, causing The Beloved to shift its tone and employ various visual styles, including black-and-white scenes. Each viewpoint offers a unique take, allowing viewers to see the same characters through entirely different hues. In this sense, Sorogoyen focuses more on the filmmaking process, the human element within it, rather than the final product. Yes, the pressure mounts, and Esteban is far from compassionate, but he seeks redemption for his past mistakes. And regardless of the challenges, Emilia is her father’s daughter. Thus, she continues to give, and give, and give. Opportunities like this may never arise for either of them again.

      The director of the critically praised The Beasts isn’t particularly invested in the Sahara narrative they are developing but rather in the dynamics between father and daughter within it. For example, there’s