Afternoons of Solitude

Young Peruvian-born bullfighting star Andrés Roca Rey travels around Spain, winning over crowds with his dramatic style as he puts his life on the line against unpredictable animals during "Afternoons of Solitude."

Laura's Review: A

With his first documentary, writer/director Albert Serra ("The Death of Louis XIV," "Pacifiction") does the impossible by eliciting a modicum of understanding for a blood sport any animal lover must consider barbaric. This 2024 winner of the San Sebastian Golden Shell is both difficult to watch and utterly compelling, a brutally balletic dance between a master of the cultural tradition and intimidating beast.

Serra provides no extraneous explanation in his cinéma vérité portrait of the matador, instead putting us in the ring with the man and his team, or cuadrilla, of Francisco Manuel Durán 'Viruta,' Antonio Gutiérrez 'Chacón,' Francisco Gómez, Manuel Lara and Roberto Domínguez, leaving those of us unfamiliar with corrida de toros to figure out each of their roles. Although it's fairly difficult to attach names shouted out in the arena to individuals, Serra's use of repetition allows us to recognize that the picador, or man on horseback, initially lances the bull's back, the first stage of weakening the animal for the eventual kill. The picador looks like something from a medieval joust, the horse draped in protective armor, the man's boots shielded by enclosed metal stirrups (although in one upsetting scene, we will see a horse go down - and thankfully get back up). Multiple banderilleros will raise a banderilla, long colored darts, in each hand, before rushing the bull and stabbing them into its shoulders. The last is a sword bearer, who stands behind a wooden partition and organizes the matador's equipment. We will see fourteen bullfights over the course of the film, which also has the effect of gradually anesthetizing us to the horror of the bull's treatment, like the slow boiling of a frog, a gambit which turns our attention more towards the matador himself.

Notably, before Serra introduces us to any of these men, he first focuses on a big, black bull, its breath audible as it stands peering directly into the camera and the majesty attributed to it here by cinematographer Artur Tort ("Pacifiction") is never echoed by its human adversaries, who refer to the animals in derogatory terms, decidedly unsportsmanlike behavior further exacerbated by the way the fallen creatures are dragged out of the ring. The camera is fixed, as it is when the scene shifts to the interior of the SUV carrying the elaborately outfitted Rey and his Cuadrilla, Rey himself looking looking wide-eyed and maniacally focused, in another world altogether.

The first exhibition we witness takes place in Madrid and Rey, clad in a stunning off white 'suit of lights,' set with sequins, embroidery and metallic threads and brocade, strides out already bloodied, apparently having already fought earlier. He's told whose flocks the bulls have come from, an unexpected detail. He calls out 'Remember Cartagena!' and 'F#$% you Madrid,' later asking his team if he 'overdid it with those a*%holes,' but we are given no context for the derisive display, which doesn't appear to be repeated as he heads to Bilbao and Seville.

What we will understand is Rey's flamboyant style, the man standing with exaggeratedly arched back, his lips pooched out as if huffing back at the bull he faces, drawing it in closer and closer with waves of his cape, Tort's camera closing tighter and tighter on the action. Rey will taunt the bull with a mincing sideways shuffle across its sightline, closer than any sane person would dare. His final move, with his sword, is equally refined in its sophistication of movement, if the most difficult aspect to watch. Throughout, Rey will be knocked down by a bull twice, his team rushing in to right him, but only once do we really gasp when one rushes him, pinning him to the side of the arena.

Serra will also introduce us to the ritual of Rey's outfitting, the man being hoisted into his skintight trousers which are then laced like a Victorian woman's corset over embroidered pink hose. There is something feminine about the process, an ironic contradiction to the extreme machismo displayed in the ring. And the filmmaker repeatedly cuts to Rey's transport to and from arenas, his elaborate dress replaced with something akin to a paper hospital smock on his way out, wounds covered in gauze. His team offers a continual raft of praise, noting his mastery and the size of his balls, their conversation turning to dismayed panic over the risks he has taken once he has left the vehicle.

"Afternoons of Solitude" may be rough going for many viewers because of its subject, but it is a masterpiece of documentary filmmaking.

Robin's Review: A

Filmmaker Albert Serra makes his first foray into the documentary feature world and follows, over the course of days, superstar Spanish bullfighter Andres Roca Rey as he plies his deadly skills of grace in “Afternoons of Solitude.”

I have never watched or cared to watch a Spanish bullfight. Something about torturing, stabbing with spears and darts and killing a poor dumb bull goes against every humane sensibility I have. But, that does not mean I cannot appreciate Albert Serra’s up close look at the art and spectacle of bullfighting.

During the course of “Afternoons of Solitude,” we learn that there are six separate processes involved in the ultimate demise of the toro. It starts with the matador, here Andres, performing fancy capework to get the bull in motion. Then, the picadors, astride heavily padded and blindfolded horses, stab the bull repeatedly with spears to cause bleeding. More flashy capework and, then, the banderillas (short spears) are thrust into the wounds. Finally, the dangerous passes with the muleta and, finally the coup de mort by sword. All this for the entertainment of the masses.

With all that described and said, Albert Serra creates a beautiful, horrific, gut-wrenching look into a barbaric sport that is akin and the reversal of the gladiator versus lion contests of ancient Rome. This time, the human is in control and the poor, dumb beast is destined to dies a gruesome and horrific death.

This is truly an enigmatic documentary. On one hand, it is about unbridled cruelty to the bull. Sure, the matador risks life and limb in the close quarters with an angry and tormented 1200 pound animal with pointy horns. But, that danger is tempered by those assisting the bullfighter, in this case Andre, as they distract the bull when danger does arise. The odds are, of course, with the matador.

Serra does not go with convention as he depicts the spectators sport without actually showing the spectators. His cameras are up close and personal with Andre and his victims – there are 14 corridas (fights) during the course of the film. His performance is a combination of theater and fearless daring as he taunts the bull, performs for the crowd, turning his back on an angry, badly bleeding animal to prove his courage, And it takes courage to do what he does, but what it does is plain animal cruelty. Thus the enigma of beauty and grace versus violence and death is a tough one for me.

As a guy who loves movies of all shapes and sizes, I can recognize a master at work. The subject may not be for all viewers, but the structure of the film, the dedication of the toreador and his entourage, the beauty of the suit of lights (it does look like lights sparkling when in the bright sunshine) and Serra’s camera team make this both a fascinating and hard to watch documentary, It is, still, a masterpiece in filmmaking and, like it or not, I respect the auteur and his work.

Grasshopper Films is releasing "Afternoons of Solitude" in June of 2025.  It will be presented at the Harvard Film Archive with the filmmaker present as part of their 'Albert Serra: Cinematic Time Regained' program on 3/31/25 and 4/12/25.