I have so much to write about and catch up on, but there’s too much else going on and demanding my time. Plus, I promised I would write on this particular topic, so here goes…
So, this is going to be my write up of Little Ashes. It’s long, and I can’t promise it’s spoiler-free — but then again, the movie is based on history, so how can I spoil it? 
It should be noted, however, that I am NOT a film critic, nor am I technically a(n) historian, and I don’t feel like I can possibly write about this movie and do it justice, so bear with me on this.
First, I should say a few things about why Little Ashes even matters to me at all. I’ll say this, and whether you choose to believe it or not is up to you: it actually has very little to do with Robert Pattinson.
Gasp. I know.
Yeah, I’m a fan (although, I hesitate to use that word given the hysteria often attributed to his “fans”). I respect the hell out of the guy’s acting talent and musical gifts, and I’ve been impressed by his wit and intelligence on multiple occasions. I would probably see a movie he’s in just because he seems to have an intriguing taste in choosing roles, and because I’ve yet to be disappointed by any of his films.
That said, I would hands down most definitely have gone to see Little Ashes even if he wasn’t in it, or if I’d never heard of him, or hell, if I even hated the guy. Federico García Lorca is one of my most beloved poets, and for all his quirks and dancing with insanity, Salvador Dalí was an incredibly gifted painter. Dalí is significantly better known, perhaps because it’s easier to both disseminate and to recognize art than it is for poetry or even plays (or, perhaps, because Dalí’s constant antics, and contributions to various art movements, made him unforgettable). In the last decade or so since I discovered and fell in love with the work of these two men, I never really dared dream someone would make a biopic about them that would satisfy me. Little Ashes, for the most part, pulled it off.
Little Ashes primarily tells the (possibly fictionalized, I tend to believe it’s mostly true) tale of the early days of the friendship between Federico García Lorca, Salvador Dalí, and Luis Buñuel at the Student Residence in Madrid before the Spanish Civil War. The focus is mostly on the intense relationship that Lorca and Dalí shared, and the possible awkward, ill-fated love affair that blossomed between the two. The story continues through all three of the influential young artists discovering their talents and passions, their diversions, and ultimately climaxes with the Spanish Civil War and its effect on their lives.
I’ll start by pointing out the things that left me feeling less than thrilled (although not enough to really detract from the experience of the film). There weren’t many of them. Foremost, I felt that they didn’t really provide enough background on the political climate preceding the war — I realize the film is intended as more of a drama about human relationships, but they provided each character’s reactions to the political climate without giving insight into why they felt that way. For someone watching the film with little or no background in Spanish history, it might be confusing. Or it might not. I dunno. It’s just something that struck me while I was watching it. Another thing that nagged at the back of my mind was how underdeveloped Buñuel was as a human character. He played his part as a minor character in the backdrop of the melodrama between Lorca and Dalí, but the film’s advertisements indicated him as a major player in the tale (which he was, in reality). Both of these things, though, were issues that would have lengthened an already two-hour film, so I can see why they may have been sidestepped a bit. I changed my opinion on these things after a second viewing. You can see my thoughts on this here.
So, what did I desperately love about the movie?
The acting was phenomenal. This was, I believe, Javier Beltrán’s first film role, and he was incredible as Lorca. After seeing the film, I honestly can’t imagine anyone playing him better. Beltrán managed to convey just the right mix of Lorca’s soul: the memories that haunted him, the innocence he held on to, the poetic way he viewed the world, the hope he had for his country and for his life, and his passion for what he believed in. There wasn’t a single minute in the film when I was watching and didn’t feel like I was really watching Federico García Lorca on that screen. From what I’ve read, the recitations of Lorca’s poetry in the film seemed to bother some people. The method chosen was to have Beltrán reciting the poems in Spanish on film, and then quiet it down to have him reciting them in English translation, overlapping the two. I thought it worked fine, especially considering how unlikely it is that most people in the audience would (a) recognize Lorca’s poetry in Spanish, (b) understand the Spanish, and (c) be able to comprehend it with the Andalusian accent (which is another point — I’m not sure if it’s Beltrán’s native accent or not — if not, he was entirely consistent through the whole film). However, I often found myself straining to hear Beltrán’s Spanish version of the poetry because I prefer Lorca in his native tongue, and because Beltrán recited them so beautifully. He did so in English as well, though, so I really have no complaints. It was an interesting tactic and I thought it was successful. As for Beltrán, I sincerely hope to see him again in other films. He’s incredibly gifted. I really believed in the light I saw in Lorca’s eyes, the purity of Lorca’s heart, through his portrayal. That, in itself, would’ve been enough for this movie to accomplish for me.
Robert Pattinson surprised me, which I will admit happens quite often. He’s a very talented young actor who is rapidly establishing himself in Hollywood — and through his talent instead of the usual young Hollywood antics. Still, even with my belief in his talent, I honestly didn’t think that it’s possible to play Salvador Dalí believably. Hell, Dalí barely played himself believably. Pattinson’s portrayal of Dalí was really spot on, though. I’ve read that he spent a lot of time in Spain before and during the filming process alone, simply studying Dalí and his ways, his mannerisms and behaviours. It definitely shows, because there were so many times during the film where I was taken aback by how real it seemed. Dalí walked a very fine line between genius and madness, often crossing over on either side, and I thought it would be impossible to show that. Pattinson managed to do it. I also found myself laughing quite a lot at the very recognizable antics of Dalí. I couldn’t possibly recount them here and do them any justice. Suffice it to say that if you are at all familiar with Dalí the perpetual performer, you will see it too. I can’t say if it was meant to be humourous in the film, or even if Dalí really ever intended to be funny, but it’s something I’ve always found hysterical. Pattinson also really managed to capture Dalí’s arduous, sometimes tortured, journey in self-creation, which I found impressive. He began as the awkward schoolboy joining the elite crowd at the Student Residence, and eventually molded himself into the man and the legend who is remembered today. Pattinson’s body language throughout the film almost tells the tale of Dalí’s development for itself, which I thought was amazing. And it’s never out of character — he’s never anyone but Salvador Dalí. There were a lot of points where it could have been extremely difficult to stay inside Dalí’s skin (the famous “tuck” scene, for example, or the various romantic moments between Lorca and Dalí), but he stays in the part. Even when it seems ludicrous, it’s Dalí being ridiculous.
Matthew McNulty, as Luis Buñuel, is something of an unsung hero of this film, really. I was never much of a Buñuel fan, so I can’t really comment on the historical or human accuracy of his portrayal, but his acting talent is undeniable here. Buñuel’s alternating cocky attitude and self-loathing, his desire to connect to others, his youthful naieveté in the early days of the revolution, and his later passion as he learns to fight the good fight — all are very tangible and seem real. McNulty played the part of a background character in the story well, but still managed to tug my attention back to him enough that he didn’t actually become background to me. I liked that.
Something I found especially poignant about the film is the portrayal of the various characters’ experiences with and views on homosexuality. Young Lorca begins to discover his homosexuality in his longing for Dalí, and kneels before the Virgin Mary to pay penance and ask to be delivered from temptation. Buñuel’s blatant homophobia only fuels the strange fire developing between the two young artists, until Buñuel himself is testing the waters to try to understand it (although I can’t recall if this is a factual portrayal of Buñuel in that respect). Dalí himself grapples with his feelings for Lorca, giving in to them time and again only to withdraw further into his façades and (what I can only call) “real life performance art.” I could feel in my heart the pain they were both going through as they tried to figure out what they were to each other, and what they were actually comfortable being. This aspect of the story is the part that’s most controversial, though, because Dalí denied (rather vehemently) any sexual relationship between himself and Lorca, but I always felt it was one of those “the lady doth protest too much” kind of situations, myself. Even so, there’s no denying the intense connection the two men had, as it’s documented well in their letters and even in some cases of their work.
The film covers such a broad scope of issues. From the daunting task of establishing oneself as a young artist, to learning to understand one’s sexuality, to living bravely in a world of complete upheaval and even violence… The difficulty of the journey for each of them is palpable, and there were times when I was genuinely in tears as I went along for the ride. I’m all too familiar with how the story ultimately played out, and I knew what the ending had to be, but I still sat there on the edge of my seat hoping and wishing it would somehow be different. I think that is a real accomplishment on the part of the team behind this film. And I won’t lie — it really excites me that this film got as much publicity as it did (through Robert Pattinson, or otherwise, I don’t really care), because it means more people are being exposed to the richness of Lorca and Dalí’s work, and to the history of a dark era in human memory that can’t be forgotten.
Little Ashes isn’t going to be a film for everyone. It’s mostly an indie arthouse film with a particular sort of vibe to it. Honestly, as I watched it, I had a hard time reconciling the idea of an average “Twi-hard” or pop culture fiend (who can actually stand to read those tabloids anyway?! Something I’ll never understand, but that’s another topic) watching this movie and really understanding it and enjoying it. If it manages to reach that audience and affect them, then that’s all the more impressive in my book. And given its subject matter and presentation, it’s not a movie I can picture my parents enjoying much, for example, but that’s not going to stop me from saying I think everyone should see it. 
Oh, and I’ve had several friends ask for recommendations for volumes of Lorca’s poetry. I personally prefer to read in the original Spanish and do my own translations (translators often change word choice or word order, and I feel that’s dishonest to the poet’s intent, so I do my own reading and translation whenever possible), but I’ve found a few good bilingual editions. This volume and this volume are both good places to start, with a decent assortment of his poems and reasonable translations. (Enjoy! If you check them out, please let me know what you think. I love to talk Lorca!)
