THE BAR: An Unfortunate Reflection Of Today

Unfortunately, the world feels so incredibly divided at the moment. Whether it be race-based, political choices or even the always heated debate between DC or Marvel, society feels more angry and argumentative then ever. As film history has shown us, the arts, especially cinema, always has a way of reflecting the current attitudes and general feelings of the current times. The American New Wave of the 1970’s is so often celebrated as it was a reflection of the newly-risen cynicism felt by the American public, who were dismayed after America’s inclusion in the Vietnam war and the Watergate scandals. With the world so alight right now, one can expect a new influx of politically-charged films, ones which feed off the divided and passionate feelings that many people are developing.

Álex de la Iglesia’s new claustrophobic black comedy, The Bar, certainly feels like one of these films already. Much like many ensemble films of the past, using a diverse selection of characters from all races, ages and sexes, to act as a proxy for a larger society, Iglesia’s interesting new movie looks to comment on the divided nature of society and the almost casual nature that terrorism and nefarious attacks are treated as nowadays by citizens who have become so numb to the constant amount of tragedies occurring globally. Unfortunately, instead of being a profound examination upon these current topics, the film uses these points to frame the narrative, pushing aside political commentary for B-Movie antics that evolves into a series of brazen arguments and sudden jumps to violence.

The Enclosed Plot

After a title sequence that mildly spoils the big reveal that is to come, we are introduced to a small microcosm of Spanish society that has converged into the titular bar, on an ordinary day in downtown Madrid. The ensemble includes Elena (Blanca Suárez), an upper class socialite who is on her way to another date. Alongside her includes a hipster advertising agent Nacho (Mario Casas), an old grizzled ex-cop Andrés (Joaquin Climent), gambling addict Trini (Carmen Machi), the 2 workers of the bar (Secun de la Rosa & Terele Pávez), businessman Sergio (Alejandro Awada) and psychotic bible-quoting homeless man Israel (Jaime Ordóñez).

Trouble begins when one of the patrons leaves the bar and is immediately gunned down by a mysterious bullet. Whilst the rest of the gang debates what the cause is (is it terrorism, a lone gunmen or even an assassination attempt?), another patron goes to retrieve the body outside but is also immediately shot and killed. Understanding that they are now trapped in the bar by this ambiguous threat outside, the crew work together to find out why they’re being targeted, a series of escalating accusations and assumptions that lead to shifting alliances, arguments and some interesting revelations about themselves and their unfortunate situation.

Once it’s revealed why our diverse group has been trapped within the rundown bar (a reason I shall refrain from spoiling), things start to fall apart, for our characters and the nature of the film itself. Once the initial intrigue has gone and the true nature of the film (and the genre it belongs to) is known to the audience, the film slowly descends into a miserable sequence of events where our group of characters become nastier and more irrational as their situation becomes more hopeless and bleaker.

The Misread Message

The film’s contained nature, narratively and spatially, lends itself to comparisons to the anthology series The Twilight Zone or Tales From The Crypt, using this B-Movie framework to examine the fragile state of human empathy and highlighting how people use fear and violence is used to control others. The problem is, the characters used to deliver this message are so incoherent, one-dimensional characters that the message is lost in translation.

It gives off the distinct feeling that the characters are merely serving the narrative, rather then being the ones controlling it, leading towards a predictably annoying conclusion that finally diminishes the overall point that Álex de la Iglesia was trying to make with this film. Jorge Guerricaechevarría’s script, whilst trying to give dynamics to the main 8 players in the film, reminds us similar Hollywood ensemble films, like the recent Magnificent Seven or even Suicide Squad, films loaded with potentially interesting characters that are instead watered down into archetypal stereotypes whose personalities constantly shift in order to graduate the narrative towards its downbeat finish.

Visually the film pulls some interesting tricks, where Iglesia and his cinematographer Ángel Amorós get the most out of the claustrophobic setting, understanding that the camera must be kept within the confined location in order to maximise the cramped discomfort that both us and the characters are experiencing. As the narrative slowly evolves, each room and angle of the bar is used, which makes sure the film never gets boring on a visual level. As the nature and attitude of the characters gets more gritty and grimy, the film visually represents this downgrade in etiquette, giving a good indicator into the mounting desperation felt by the characters.

On an acting level, the entire ensemble is pretty consistent, with no real weak point between them. Blanca Suárez, who plays Elena, the film’s subtly positioned main character, does a good job of transforming from the posh elegant debutante into the fierce, decision-making risk taker that is forced to keep her composure during a myriad of degrading responsibilities that are forced upon her. The other interesting stand-out actor is Mario Casas as the hipster Nacho, who allows an organic transition from surrogate for modern millennial values, into a character who actually has some form of arc and interesting development, the only real character to perform this evolution. Despite all the characters being underwritten, each actor tries to give enough personality to these characters, even if the constantly shifting plot machinations mean that some of these characters are too frequently side-lined or make out-of-character decisions purely because the narrative needs them to.

Conclusion

Despite its potentially suitable political thematic depth, Álex de la Iglesia’s genre exercise The Bar continually sheds all of its interesting depth and narrative tricks in favor for a predictable story that constantly betrays its established characters in order to service the cynical narrative. Even though Álex de la Iglesia’s direction keeps the film interesting in a visual sense and the acting among the ensemble is pretty solid, the expected plot unfolds exactly in the fashion you expect it to (once it’s unveiled what’s going on), with a series of decreasingly stimulating sequences that slowly waste the intriguing premise that was introduced at the beginning.

Whilst fans of genre cinema will find enough engaging material within The Bar, due to its frequently creative use of its spatial awareness and constant plot momentum, the film ultimately doesn’t contribute enough original material to make it stand apart from films of a similar ilk, ones I can’t mention without threatening to spoil the overall plot and direction this film takes.

What are some of your favorite Spanish genre films? Tell us in the comments below!

This Bar premiered at the Berlin International Film Festival on February 15, 2017. For international release dates, see here.