Cannes Review: La Bola Negra Appears to Be an Epic, Forgotten Novel

      If 19th- and 20th-century storytelling was characterized by elaborate literature, the 21st century is centered around cinema. We are reading less and watching more; as a result, films have taken the place of expansive tales that intertwine different timelines and characters. The latest example of this is the Cannes sensation *La Bola Negra* (also known as *The Black Ball*), a truly ambitious endeavor that draws inspiration from historical truths while remaining a fictional and deeply personal project.

      This Spanish drama, directed by Javier Calvo and Javier Ambrossi (collectively referred to as Los Javis), revolves around three men whose destinies are intertwined through their quests for identity, love, and sexuality. In 1932, young Carlos (Milo Quifes) strives to carve out his identity in Spanish society. In 1937, 25-year-old Sebastián (Spanish sensation Guitarricadelafuente) finds himself caught in the Spanish Civil War, driven by survival and falling in love with the enigmatic Rafael (Miguel Bernardeau). In 2017, Alberto (Carlos González), a historian grappling with his own direction in life, faces the legacy of his deceased grandfather after discovering a mysterious manuscript.

      The narrative draws inspiration from Federico García Lorca's unfinished play, from which *La Bola Negra* derives its distinctive title. In the voting system of 1930s Spain, receiving black balls (as opposed to white ones) signified a man’s rejection from a "Casino"—a prestigious social club—due to his sexual orientation. Before his brutal murder, the Spanish poet managed only to write four pages of the play. Thanks to the directors, however, Lorca’s manuscript has been expanded through cinematic storytelling, as Calvo and Ambrossi craft their own version of the truth by reinterpreting the past. Within this framework, *La Bola Negra* intertwines fictional and historical figures, contrasting the horrors of civil conflict (which occurred between 1936 and 1939) with more tranquil times (the modern narrative set in 2017), when being queer is no longer seen as a danger.

      On the surface, the only link connecting these narratives is the characters’ visible queerness, evident in how they glance at other men, experience love, and become victims of the loneliness that often accompanies this (particularly in the two stories set in the conservative 1930s Spain). Similar to the titular play, this grand and powerful drama is—echoing Glenn Close’s character, a scholar devoted to Lorca's work—about choice. A queer choice, to be precise.

      This expansive film explores numerous themes: the unavoidable judgment faced when deciding to come out (Carlos); the feeling of an ending for queer bohemia following the rise of the Falange (both Carlos and Sebastián); the generational family trauma that one inherits regardless of their desires (Alberto); and the act of disclosing one’s true identity (all characters).

      This idea resonates in a standout cameo: a performance by the iconic Penélope Cruz. Portraying Nené Romero, a fictional performer, she captivates the audience with her ageless charm. In a touching exchange with Sebastián, they discuss the notion of pretense: Romero mentions a friend who can impersonate anyone, even Raquel Meller (a renowned Spanish actress and performer of the time). The main character’s queerness isn’t overtly acknowledged—it lies beneath the bravado of a soldier—but Romero perceives it; she sensed it in the very first spark in his eyes during her act. It is the “drag” he seeks: among a group of lecherous men, Sebastián is the only one who doesn’t objectify her. “Transvestism is the fantasy of possibility. War is the opposite,” she explains to him. This scene, like many others, brings subtleties to the forefront. In *La Bola Negra*, much is communicated between the lines or through poetic allegories.

      The film also joins a tradition of contemporary cinema that aims for novelistic storytelling through audiovisual expression. Last year’s *Sound of Falling* presented a similar concept, drawing on influential modernist authors like Virginia Woolf and William Faulkner to create a thought-provoking stream of consciousness through visuals rather than text. Here, the “cinema of attractions” mirrors the style of Mario Vargas Llosa’s 1969 novel *Conversation in the Cathedral*, with each segment adding layers of meaning. It is up to the audience to decide when and how to decode this intricate puzzle.

      This impactful experience is further enhanced by Raül Refree’s non-diegetic orchestral score, which prominently features Spanish guitars and trumpets. This musical aspect reinforces *La Bola Negra*’s essence, serving as a reminder that love and passion should never be overlooked, despite being buried under the ruins of war or the passage of time. It evokes a yearning for a past that