To watch a film is to find oneself taken on a journey. Sometimes the journey is a happy one, other times sad, or it can even be one of mixed emotions. Spanish director Carlos Saiz’s narrative debut feature Lionel, is defined by the inherent tension between the titular character and his father, that yields to humorous beats and the playfulness of Lionel (Lionel Corral Bernal), his sister Alicia (Alicia Corral Bernal) and father (Lionel Corral).
Saiz’s independent feature earned recognition with a Special Jury Mention at the Valladolid International Film Festival, and it’s easy to see why. This rough and rugged Spanish indie drama that follows Lionel and his father’s road trip from Murcia in southeastern Spain to the north of France, to meet up with and celebrate their daughter and sister’s graduation, possesses a certain charm. Saiz and his co-writer Raúl Liarte value narrative simplicity over narrative adventure, preferring to complicate the story through the characters’ interpersonal relationships.
Lionel is a story about dysfunctional relationships, specifically between Lionel and his father. Throughout the film, the audience are prodded with the question whether the story will drive towards a resolution or we will witness a deeper fracturing of their relationship. Saiz and Liarte refuse to decide between telling an optimistic or cynical story. Instead, Lionel expresses a cynical point-of-view about family, especially the paternal, while also leaning into the saccharine and sentimental to affectionately embrace family, in spite if its imperfections.
The father is a strong character and often dominates scenes. There’s a paradox to his anger, in that it intrigues and repels us. Saiz and his cinematographer Artur-Pol Camprubí frequently frame the action up close and tight. In the interior car scenes, the filmmakers make no effort to create space, and even outside the car, they want the audience up close in the personal space of the characters. It’s of course the right way to shoot these scenes to maximise the tension, but then, the way it is written and the way scenes play out, makes us feel genuinely uncomfortable. There are scenes where you can viscerally feel the combustible dynamic of Lionel and his father’s relationship.
The tension is so palpable that we begin playing out the violent conclusion in our minds. It might never reach this breaking point, but Saiz, Liarte, Camprubí and the actors know how to fray the audience’s nerves to create a parallel space where it boils over. Another provocative scene sees the father light a cigarette in spite of his children’s protestations. This leads to a verbal confrontation with the French bar owner who kicks them out. Again, the tight framing heightens the tension, creating the uncomfortable feeling that we are, like Lionel, trapped, with no way out. Whereas he’s trapped in a relationship, our entrapment is spatial.
The strength of Lionel is a double-edged blade. Saiz and Liarte refrain from digging down into the family dynamics. Instead, they prefer to stay on the surface and observe. There’s a definite voyeuristic quality to the film, by inviting the audience into the characters’ personal space. However, there are interesting observations, such as when Lionel admits he doesn’t know how his late mother ever put up with his father, or when his sister reminds Lionel that he can leave too. She warns him about placing too much sentimental value on the family home, that may house memories, but it’s still only bricks and mortar. While we can appreciate Saiz and Liarte’s choose to skim the surface, at times Lionel feels tests one’s patience. While more character development and even a chance to understand the father’s anger would be welcomed, the story’s heart mostly neutralises these quibbles.
Lionel showed at the 25th REC Tarragona International Film Festival.
