Cult Review
Senior Film Conservator

Look, if you have a soft spot for silent-era experimentation or just want to see what 1920s Spanish cinema looked like when it was trying to be edgy, you’ll dig this. It’s got a weird, frantic energy. But if you need your plots to be crystal clear and your characters to act like actual humans, you might want to skip this one. It’s definitely not for the casual blockbuster crowd.
The whole thing feels like a fever dream that ran out of budget halfway through. Amelia Muñoz is doing a lot of heavy lifting with just her eyes, which is good because sometimes the sets look like they’re about to tip over if someone sneezes too hard. There’s this one sequence in a hallway that lingers for just a few seconds too long. It stops being tense and starts feeling like the actors forgot where the exit was.
It reminds me a bit of the frantic pacing in The Hound of the Baskervilles, though this one is a lot less interested in logic. There’s a scene where the lighting goes completely haywire—everything turns into a flat, washed-out gray for a beat—and I honestly couldn't tell if it was an artistic choice or a projector malfunction. I kind of loved it, though.
The supporting cast, especially Félix de Pomés, seems to be playing a completely different movie than everyone else. While the lead is weeping, he’s in the background looking like he’s waiting for a bus. It’s distracting. It’s also the best part of the film. You can almost feel the movie trying to convince you that this specific drama matters, but then the camera cuts to a prop that looks like it was made out of wet cardboard.
I found myself wondering if this would have worked better as a short film. The middle section really drags its feet, looping the same emotional beats until you start counting the cracks in the wall. Wait, is that a real spider web in the corner of the set? I think it is. Nobody bothered to sweep.
Anyway, it’s not a masterpiece. It’s barely even a coherent story. But it has this weird, grimy charm that you just don't get in polished modern stuff. It feels like a secret. A very slow, slightly confusing secret. 📽️

IMDb —
1914