Snow White in silent Seville is glib shorthand for director Polbo Berger’s tasteful Blancanieves, a beautiful, quirky take on the recognisable fable. Nicely shot and well cast, this silent melodrama, shot in black and white, is not sweetness and light. It’s more gleaming Spanish gothic that will charm and shock, dismay and delight in equal measure.
Daniel Giménez Cacho – the narrator for Alfonso Cuaron’s breakout Y Tu Mama Tambien - is wealthy, handsome bullfighter Antonio Villlalta. He’s the father of Snow White, whose story begins after a careless Kodak moment leaves the bullfighter paralysed and the stress killing his fabulously beautiful wife, a flamenco dancer (Inma Cuesta) in childbirth. The daughter, Carmencita (Sophia Oria), survives and flourishes under the care of her gorgeous grandmother (Angela Molina) only to fall prey to Villalta’s evil nurse and second wife (Maribel Verdú).
Carmencita goes from cinderella to our heroine Carmen (Macarena Garcia). Having learned bullfighting from Aillalta, she teams up with a tour of bullfighting dwarves, as one would, seeking to avenge the cruelty meted out to her dearest papa. Expect a poisoned apples, betrayal and love to appear exactly as you least expect them.
Hugely beautiful on the large screen, Blancanieves is also striking on the small: the clarity of Kiko de la Rica’s cinematography and smart editing by Fernando Franco add to its storytelling success. Comparisons to The Artist are inevitable, even if Blancanieves was conceived before that film came to production. In spirit, however, Blancanieves is closer to David Lynch’s otherworldly Eraserhead, if not so groundbreaking. Rather, this outpouring of the heart set in the Seville of the mind grows into a bittersweet fairytale designed to disturb your dreams and unsettle your spirit. In that, it is perfect for those who cherish the odder end of art house cinema.