Two Spains at the box office: 'La bola negra' vs Torrente

Two Spains at the box office: 'La bola zaina' vs Torrente

Spanish cinema is once again splitting the country in two. On one side, an auteur film about the Spanish Civil War with international reach and institutional backing; on the other, a gross-out comedy franchise that filled cinemas without asking the critics' permission. The discussion, which has filled dozens of messages over nearly a week, is not about cinematography or script: it is about which Spain deserves subsidies and which deserves box office success.

The opening argument is a piece of express sociology. The first film would represent "the Spain of culture, sensitivity, abstraction, international reach and IQ," associated with the centre and the left. The second would embody "the Spain of mental squalor, ordinary tackiness, intellectual underdevelopment and inbreeding," tied to the right. Two films, two countries, one single movie listing.

What the films are and why they are compared

The first is an auteur production set in the Civil War, antiestéticaturing a romantic relationship between two same-sens characters on opposing sides. The second is the latest instalment of a comedy franchise that now spans six titles and whose formula has been exported to several countries, as noted in the conversation.

The comparison is no accident. Both were released with full promotional machinery, both generated public debate and both ended up becoming symbols. Part of the analysis argues that the historical film is "just one more among a thousand bad Civil War films," while the action comedy would have an objective merit: six instalments, box office receipts and adaptations abroad.

The argument nobody agrees on: which side is each film on?

Here is where the mess begins. Some argue that the Torrente comedy is actually a satire of the fusty right, a caricature of the voter it wants to ridicule. Others reply that this is precisely what the left believes the right is, and that the film laughs at an archetype that does not exist. The date matters: it is recalled that in 1998, when the first instalment was released, pogre liked it and anyone who did not defend it was labelled as close to the PP (Spain's conservative People's Party).

With the Civil War film, the same happens in reverse. Some read it as ideological propaganda with Manichean sides; others point out that it portrays homophobia within both armies and is therefore not so simple. The recurring conclusion: each side projects onto the screen what it wants to see.

Subsidies: the money nobody wants to give up

The point where the most different voices agree is the economic one. It is claimed that the comedy also tried to receive public aid, and that almost nobody in the industry risks their own capital without an institutional safety net. "Where there's a politician behind it, there's political meddling," one comment sums up. The criticism does not distinguish ideologies: the problem would be the funding model itself, not the colour of the government signing the cheque.

The historical film also faces accusations of massive institutional promotion abroad and of buying favourable reviews. No verification is possible from the material, but the suspicion circulates and fuels the anger. A full breakdown of how much each production model costs would be enough for another article.

The audience that never goes to the cinema but pays the bill

A recurring figure appears: the taxpayer who funds both films without having watched either. "The real problem is that I'm paying for both without having seen either," someone laments. The complaint is not aesthetic, it is fiscal. And it connects with a broader argument: Spanish cinema as a subsidised sector that generates audiences for ideological reasons unrelated to its quality.

Against that, the implicit defence of the comedy is its commercial success without depending on institutional favour. The defence of the historical film is its international reach and its presence at festivals. Two different metrics, two different audiences, one and the same public purse.

The rift that never closes

The conversation drifts into rougher territory: comparisons with American epic cinema, laments over the films never made about the Tercios (Spain's historic infantry regiments) or the trade routes, and a deeper question nobody fully answers. Why does Spanish cinema only seem capable of looking at the Civil War and other people's production costs?

With these ingredients, the box office should decide. But it does not: the historical film will get a tenth of the audience of the comedy, according to a circulating estimate, and will still be considered the important film. Or will it?