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DIRECTED BY: José Luis Cuerda

FEATURING: Antonio Resines, José Sazatornil, Cassen, Luis Ciges

PLOT: An engineering professor returns to Spain to visit his father;  they take a trip to a remote village crowded with eccentric inhabitants where incongruous situations are the norm.

COMMENTS: José Luis Cuerda’s Amanece, Que No Es Poco (translated as Dawn Breaks, Which Is No Small Thing) is part of a group of Spanish films that professor and scriptwriter Jaime Bauzá identifies as “surruralismo,” a blending of surrealism and ruralism. In essence, all of these movies are absurdist comedies, which isn’t surprising considering small rural communities are often associated with traditional mindsets and tight-knit circles, and are thought to harbor suspicion of outsiders. Conversely, surrealism involves an intrusion of the weird into the ordinary, creating images that have no direct counterpart in reality. The surreal seeping into the rural therefore produces a unique dissonance.

Amanece, Que No Es Poco thrives on such incongruity. The film rejects traditional storytelling and linear narrative in favor of a sequence of vignettes featuring the inhabitants of a small village in Albacete, a Castilian province in central Spain. While there is a significant lack of plot, the motley crew of villagers and the bizarre situations they find themselves in make up for it. As Bauzá points out, there is no real protagonist in surruralismo; instead, viewers are presented with a parade of primary characters sharing a similar amount of screen time, each with their own funny circumstances. In Amanece, Que No Es Poco, some of these include men growing out of soil like plants, the village drunkard literally splitting into two personas, and a village school teacher singing and performing a lesson on different types of groins and their significance.

Such incongruous situations are not the only humorous element in the movie, but they reinforce the discordant dialogues between the colorful characters. The randomness of the lines in several scenes are laugh-out-loud funny, with changes in tone coming out of nowhere in a great display of absurdity. Cuerda makes fun of stereotypes about small towns and thwarts viewers’ expectations every few minutes. For instance, the film challenges the common perception of villagers as yokels by having them reference world literature—Faulkner, Dostoevsky, Nabokov, or Góngora are mentioned, among others—and philosophy—allusions to Stoicism and dialectical materialism appear out of the blue. It’s unlikely that these references add any intellectual depth to the story itself, but their mention amidst the coarser language found throughout the movie is hilarious.

Such intellectual references give the movie a universal feel that causes yet another dissonance with its very specific rural Spanish setting. As a result, the humor of Amanece, Que No Es Poco may fall flat, especially for viewers who are not familiar with Spanish village culture. There is a sociological idea of “deep Spain” (“España profunda”) referring to areas of the country that are profoundly conservative and staunchly uphold tradition. Cuerda mocks such narrow-minded attitude and introduces signs of progress within the structures of the village, such as the acceptance of foreigners rather than the embrace of isolationism. The importance of these signs risks becoming downplayed by the overall absurdity, however.

The cast does a great job portraying the quirky villagers, and one is always agog at the next bizarre scene. Sometimes characters reappear, but then new ones are introduced, and their storylines not necessarily concluded. Special effects are also notable for the time, and earned the film two nominations for the Goya Awards (the Spanish equivalent to the Oscars), alongside a nomination for the zanily original script.

Amanece, Que No Es Poco is a paradigmatic example of surruralismo and a by-the-book absurdist comedy. Looking for logic or deep meanings in such a movie may lead to frustration, so it’s preferable to go with the flow and be bombarded with the same nonsensical situations that the characters experience. As Wim Tigges put it in his doctoral dissertation, quoted by Neil Cornell in The Absurd in Literature (2006): “Nonsense is indeed one possible reflection of life in that it is at once both and neither meaningful and meaningless.” Nonsense in art is illogical on the surface, but at the same time follows its own logical system, requiring our innate knowledge of grammar, rhythm and tone for it to function, for us to try to recognize something hidden yet meaningful therein—otherwise, it would just be gibberish and noise, at best. In the paradoxical nature of nonsense we find an interpretation of human life in all its shades. Cuerda’s humorous and absurdist take not only reflects his thoughts on village culture, but also on the chaos of existence.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“One-of-a-kind Spanish surreal comedy that is so dense with gags, eccentricities, sketches, characters, fantastical absurdities and punchlines, that it is almost impossible to describe.”–Zev Toledano, The Worldwide Celluloid Massacre