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6.8/10
Senior Film Conservator
A definitive 6.8/10 rating for a film that redefined the boundaries of cult cinema. L'étoile de Valencia remains a cornerstone of transgressive art.
If you have a thing for black-and-white melodrama and don't mind when the plot gets a little bit messy, you’ll probably find something to love here. If you need your movies to have perfect pacing and characters who always act like sensible human beings, skip it. You will absolutely hate how long it takes for Pedro to just say what he needs to say.
There is a specific kind of frustration watching Pedro Savedra stumble around. He spent years away because of one stupid rumor, and his return is just as clumsy. It’s like watching a guy try to apologize while accidentally tripping over his own shoelaces every five minutes.
Palma de Mallorca looks like a place I’d want to visit if it wasn’t currently filled with gangsters and guys like Palesco. The nightclub scenes have this thick, hazy atmosphere. You can almost smell the cheap tobacco and the stale perfume through the screen. It’s gritty in a way that feels honest.
I couldn't help but think about Forbidden while watching the tension build. Both movies rely heavily on the idea that if you just stop talking, you ruin your entire life. It’s a recurring theme in these older dramas, isn't it? Just talk to the person, Pedro! Save us all two hours of trouble.
The boss, Palesco, is a total cartoon character. He’s the kind of guy who probably twirls his mustache when he isn't busy being a menace. There’s a scene where he’s just sitting there, staring at a glass of wine, and it goes on for about 15 seconds too long. I think the director was trying to make him look intimidating, but he just looked like he was waiting for his lunch order to arrive.
The movie doesn't really care about the 'why' of the virus or the larger politics of the era. It just wants to get Pedro from Point A to Point B. Sometimes it works, and sometimes it feels like the writers just threw a dart at a map of plot devices. It works, though. It has this weird, jagged rhythm that keeps you watching even when the dialogue sounds like it was written on a napkin.
I wasn't expecting much from the ending, but it lands with a weird, quiet thud. Not a bang, just a thud. Kind of like the rest of the film. It isn't trying to change cinema, and I respect that. It just wants to tell you a story about a guy who finally realizes he was an idiot. We've all been there, I guess. Just maybe not in a cabaret in Mallorca.
If you want something that feels like a dusty old postcard found in an attic, this is it. 🎞️
IMDb 7.3
1931
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