After Sundance screened Good Luck to You, Leo Grande last year, in which Emma Thompson plays a mature woman who lets go of her inhibitions aided by a younger sex worker, the festival again honors women who embrace their sexuality at any age and under any circumstances in the Spanish comedy Mamacruz, portraying the title character’s voyage from religious repression to carnal enjoyment.
Patricia Ortega, a Venezuelan director, could not find funding within her own country, so she adapted her script to a location in Spain and cast as her lead the brilliant Kiti Manver, who has appeared in five Almodovar films, including the classic Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown. As Mamacruz, she is initially subdued as a bored, sex-deprived housewife who logs on to her granddaughter’s internet and discovers pleasures she has been denied all her life. In the beginning, her life is shown to be a dreary succession of domestic and church duties. At church, she sews capes for the Saints who adorn the altars. Even in such an oppressive environment, Mamacruz begins to eye the nipples and parted lips of a wooden statue of Jesus agonizing on the cross, and imagines him as a flesh and blood passionate lover. As Mamacruz awakens to unknown desires and pleasures, Kiti Manver gradually unleashes her considerable comic talents on screen. The character goes beyond being a mere cause for laughter, however, as we also learn that her young granddaughter is living with her, that her absent daughter is auditioning for Vienna’s ballet company, and that a friend is dealing with a serious illness.
The film comes alive when Mamacruz joins a sex therapy workshop. We are introduced to a delicious assortment of older women who bring joy and laughter into her life, along with a moving dose of heartbreak. As she learns to let go of her inhibitions, she gets off on smoking pot, drinking booze, and experimenting with sex toys. The actors’ Andalusian accents and expressions provide more fun as the women speak freely about their desires and sexual exploits. Set in the torrid climate of Seville, there are opportunities for the women to feel hot and bothered or, as the case may be, hot and horny: “Cachondas,” as the Spanish define them, or, more rudely, “guarras” (sluts).
A little too easily and predictably, the men in the film are portrayed as boring, incompetent, selfish fools with few redeeming features. The hapless husband is forever snoring, his nose swollen, his bald head surrounded by wiry, clownish, graying hair. Actor Pepe Quero imbues him with a sad, dignified silence, and he acts as a counterpoint, bordering on caricature, to Mamacruz’s coquettish flirtatiousness. The priest is drawn as a bitter, stern character who reproaches Mamacruz for painting Virgen Dolorosa’s lips a bright red. Mamacruz grows weary of him and looks for another church where she can be cleansed of her sins in hushed tones in the confessional; but that priest is hard of hearing, demanding she speak up.
Venezuelan filmmakers have been finding opportunities and much success outside their country, as Lorenzo Vigas did when he filmed The Box (La Caja) in Mexico. Patricia Ortega’s script, co-written with Jose Ortuño, has flourished in its new location in Spain where, due to the pandemic, she had to meet her cast and team only once shooting was set to begin in Seville. Ortega studied film in Cuba and Germany and has directed feature films and documentaries (Being Impossible, 2018). She based the screenplay of Mamacruz on her own mother, who during cancer treatment confessed to her that she had lived a more passionate life before settling into a sedate married role. Her mother survived and embraced her zest for life and now has a new boyfriend. The film is dedicated to her, and as Mamacruz finally reaches an understanding with her distant daughter in the film, it perhaps brings closure to Ortega’s own family issues.
Cinematographer Fernandez Pardo’s sharp eye for detail exploits Catholicism’s obsession with the quivering flesh, bleeding wounds, and tearful eyes of sculpted saints, who become human and caress Mamacruz while she sews their silken attires. Paloma Peñarrubia’s music adds a layer of merriment with a Cante Jondo, a flamenco-inspired lament, playing at just the right moments to make an ironic comment on events. The film is peppered with witty observations, from phallic-looking food to artwork, and should be accessible and successful for audiences beyond the festival circuit.
Director: Patricia Ortega
Screenplay: Patricia Ortega, Jose Ortuño
Cast:: Kiti Manver, Pepe Quero, Ines Benitez Viñuela, Silvia Acosta
Producers: Olmo Figueredo Gonzalez-Quevedo, Carlos Rosado Sibon, Jose Alba
Cinematography: Fran Fernandez Pardo
Editing: Fátima de los Santos
Music: Paloma Peñarrubia
Production companies: La Claqueta, Mandrágora Films, Pecado Films, La Cruda Realidad
World sales: Filmax
Venue: Sundance Film Festival 2023
In Spanish
84 minutes
