Marta Mejías

An unprejudiced portrait of Spanish folklore and a crude analysis in black and white of its intimate relationship with atavism and superstition, with violence and pain, with blood and death; a story of terror, a journey to the most sinister and ancestral Spain; the one that lived far from the most visited tourist destinations, from the economic miracle and unstoppable progress, relentlessly promoted by the Franco regime during the sixties.

The film has no clear plot. It deals with the reactions of an older man and a young woman to the news stories that occur in 1968: the May student protests, Vietnam, Biafra. It is scattered, apparently disconnected. The characters find themselves in illogical situations: in a train cemetery, in a ruined house where some young people edit a journal. There is no sound of steps, and doors, when opened or closed, make no sound.