Why I bothered with Los claveles de la virgen (1928)

If you're looking for something with a lot of explosions or fast cuts, Los claveles de la virgen is going to be a real test of your patience. It's really only worth watching today if you have a soft spot for 1920s melodrama or if you're a bit of a nerd for early Spanish film history. Most people will probably find it too slow, but there's a *weirdly cozy* feeling to how simple it is.

It was directed by Florián Rey, who was basically the big shot of Spanish cinema back then. Seeing a credit for Washington Irving as a writer on a Spanish film felt like a typo at first, but then I remembered how much that guy loved hanging out in Granada. It gives the whole thing this strange, folkloric vibe that doesn't always make sense but looks pretty cool.

The story is pretty much what you'd expect from a movie made in 1928. There's a girl, some flowers, a lot of intense staring, and some heavy-handed religious imagery. It reminds me a bit of the vibe in The Girl from Nowhere, though this one feels more grounded in old-world traditions.

The Imperio Argentina Factor

The main reason to even pull this out of the archives is Imperio Argentina. She’s so young here, and you can already tell she has that "it" factor that makes the camera like her more than anyone else on screen. Even when the plot drags—and it *really* drags in the middle—her face keeps you from turning it off.

There’s this one specific shot where she’s holding the carnations near a shrine. The lighting is actually pretty decent for the time, making her look almost like a painting. It’s a quiet moment that feels way more honest than the big dramatic scenes later on.

Speaking of big drama, some of the acting is... well, it's very 1920s. Lots of wide eyes and clutching of chests. It makes The Jazz Age look subtle by comparison. Sometimes a character will react to bad news by spinning around three times before falling down.

Cinematic perspective: Exploring the visual vocabulary of Los claveles de la virgen (1929) through its definitive frames.

• The sets look like they were built on a very tight budget.
• I'm pretty sure I saw a dog wander through the background of a shot that was supposed to be a serious conversation.
• The pacing is all over the place.

I noticed that the outdoor scenes feel much more alive than the stuff filmed inside. You can almost feel the dry heat of the Spanish sun through the grain of the film. It has that same dusty atmosphere you find in The Land of Long Shadows, just with more lace and incense.

There is a scene where a group of people are dancing, and it goes on for a long time. Like, *really* long. I think they just liked the music and didn't want to stop filming, even though it doesn't move the story forward at all. It’s kind of charming in a "we're just making a movie with our friends" kind of way.

One reaction shot of Valentín Parera lingers for so long I thought the film had jammed in the projector. He just stands there looking confused for about ten seconds too many. It made me laugh, which I don't think was the point of the scene.

Compared to something like Scandal, this feels much more traditional and conservative. It’s not trying to be edgy or modern. It’s just a story about people and their beliefs, told in a way that feels very far away now.

The ending is a bit of a rush, like they realized they were running out of film and needed to wrap everything up in two minutes. Poof—everyone is happy or sad and then the screen goes black. It’s abrupt, but honestly, after some of those long walking scenes, I didn't mind the quick exit.

Is it a masterpiece? No, not really. But if you’re in the mood for something that feels like a time capsule, you could do worse. Just maybe have some coffee ready for the second act.