Cannes Review: La Bola Negra Gives the Impression of a Grand, Forgotten Novel

      If storytelling in the 19th and 20th centuries was characterized by grand literature, the 21st century is defined by cinema. We are reading less and watching more; thus, films have become a replacement for expansive narratives that intertwine different timelines and characters. A prominent recent example is the Cannes sensation *La Bola Negra* (also known as *The Black Ball*), a truly ambitious project that draws inspiration from historical truth while remaining a fictional and deeply personal endeavor.

      This Spanish drama, directed by Javier Calvo and Javier Ambrossi (collectively known as Los Javis), tells the story of three men whose destinies are interconnected through their quests for identity, love, and sexuality. In 1932, young Carlos (Milo Quifes) seeks to carve out his place in Spanish society. In 1937, 25-year-old Sebastián (the Spanish phenomenon Guitarricadelafuente), motivated by a will to survive, finds himself caught in the Spanish Civil War and develops feelings for the enigmatic Rafael (Miguel Bernardeau). In 2017, Alberto (Carlos González), a historian struggling with his identity, confronts the legacy of his late grandfather after discovering a mysterious manuscript.

      The storyline is inspired by Federico García Lorca’s unfinished play, which lends *La Bola Negra* its unique title. In 1930s Spain, receiving black balls instead of white ones meant rejection from a “Casino”—a prestigious social club—based on one’s sexual orientation. Before his brutal murder, the Spanish poet managed to pen only four pages of the play. Nevertheless, through the efforts of the directors, Lorca’s manuscript has been expanded into a cinematic narrative, with Calvo and Ambrossi crafting their interpretation of truth by utilizing and reworking the past. In this context, *La Bola Negra* seamlessly intertwines fictional and historical figures, showcasing the horrific terror of the civil conflict (which spanned from 1936 to 1939) alongside more tranquil periods (such as the contemporary storyline set in 2017), when being queer is no longer seen as a danger.

      At first glance, the only link between these narratives appears to be the characters' evident queerness, which is expressed through their glances, feelings of love, and the loneliness that accompanies their identities (particularly in the two stories set in the conservative Spain of the 1930s). Similar to the titular play, this expansive and powerful drama reflects—quoting Glenn Close’s character, a scholar invested in Lorca’s work—about choice, specifically a queer choice.

      *La Bola Negra* explores numerous themes: the unavoidable scrutiny 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 trauma passed down whether one wishes to accept it or not (Alberto); and the process of revealing one's true self (all of the characters).

      This theme resonates with a notable cameo from the incomparable Penélope Cruz. As Nené Romero, a fictional performer, she captivates the audience with her timeless charm. She and Sebastián share a heartfelt dialogue regarding the concept of pretense: Romero mentions she has a friend capable of impersonating anyone, even Raquel Meller (a renowned Spanish performer from that era). Sebastián's queerness isn't overtly addressed—it hides behind the guise of a brave soldier—but Romero sees through to the first flicker in his eyes during her performance, recognizing his desire for "drag." In a room full of lecherous men, Sebastián is unique in not objectifying her. "Transvestism is the fantasy of possibility. War is the opposite," she tells him. This scene, like many others, brings nuanced perspectives to light. In *La Bola Negra*, much is articulated between the lines or through poetic metaphors.

      The film also contributes to a modern cinematic tradition that attempts to achieve novelistic storytelling through visual means. Last year’s *Sound of Falling* had a similar approach, resonating with influential modernist authors like Virginia Woolf and William Faulkner to create a provocative stream of consciousness via imagery rather than text. In this way, the “cinema of attractions” parallels Mario Vargas Llosa’s 1969 novel *Conversation in the Cathedral*, where each scene adds another layer of meaning for the audience to decipher. It is left to the viewer to determine when and how they will interpret this intricate puzzle.

      This impact is indeed profound, enhanced by Raül Refree’s non-diegetic orchestral score, which frequently incorporates Spanish guitars and trumpets. This musical backdrop reinforces *La Bola Negra*'s essence, reminding us that love and passion should never be forgotten, even when overshadowed by the ruins of war or the passage of time. It evokes a sense of nostalgia for a bygone past that can still be reclaimed through cinema.

      At one moment, Alberto’s partner