Cult Review
Senior Film Conservator

If you have a soft spot for movies that feel like they were unearthed from a basement, sure. It’s for the folks who love grainy black and white and don't mind when the story gets a little lost in its own shadows. If you need your pacing snappy or your stakes high, stay away. This one is a slow burn that mostly just smolders.
There’s a strange, clunky honesty to Mercedes. It doesn’t try to be profound. It just exists.
The acting is… well, it’s very 1933. You get a lot of wide eyes and dramatic pauses that last about three seconds longer than they should. Jaime Planas has this look in his eyes like he’s trying to remember if he left the stove on back home. It’s oddly distracting but somehow fits the vibe.
The background sets have this painted-on quality that I actually kinda love. You can see the edges where the wallpaper meets the floorboards. It reminds me of the sets in Svengali, though maybe a little less moody.
There’s a scene about halfway through where someone is talking, and the camera just stays on the other person’s back. It’s a bold choice, or maybe just a mistake. Either way, it felt real. It made me think of the way things used to be in Ladies of Leisure, where the silence was just as important as the dialogue.
Don't expect the plot to hold your hand. It’s a bit of a wandering mess, honestly. Characters walk in and out of frames with no real explanation, and honestly? That’s fine. I don't need a map for every single scene. Mercedes isn’t trying to change the world. It’s just trying to get through the afternoon.
It’s not as polished as some of the bigger stuff coming out of that era, but it’s got heart. Even if the heart is a little dusty. 🎞️
1933
IMDb Rating
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Deciphering the legacy of transgressive cult cinema.
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