23-F

(Spain)
A Warner Bros. Pictures release of a LaZona Films, Wave production in
association with TVE, Canal Plus, AXN. (International sales: LaZona,
Madrid.) Produced by Gonzalo Salazar-Simpson, Ignacio Salazar-Simpson.
Directed by Chema de la Pena. Screenplay, Joaquin Andujar. Camera
(color), David Azcano; editor, Meco Paulogorran; music, Antonio
Fernandez; art director, Anton Laguna; costume designer, Maria Jose
Iglesias; sound (Dolby Digital), Sergio Burmann; supervising sound editor,
Nacho Royo; assistant director, Antonio Ordonez; casting, Rosa Estevez.
Reviewed at Yelmo Cineplex Tres Aguas, Madrid, Feb 27, 2011. Running
time: 97 MIN.
With: Paco Tous, Fernando Cayo, Mariano Venancio, Juan Diego, Gines
Garcia Millan, Lluis Marco, Joan Pera.
By JONATHAN HOLLAND
As source material, the failed 1981 coup d’etat that nearly brought the
newly democratic Spain to its knees reps a great opportunity - but like its
characters, “23-F” fails to seize it. Offering too little that’s new for those
who know about the subject and too little real drama for those who don’t,
pic looks like a slick recreation made for educational purposes, but fails to
scratch beneath the surfaces either of what really happened - still disputed -
or of the men who led it. Early home B.O. has been poor, but subject matter
alone could generate offshore interest.
Behind the credits, archive images are shown which suggest serious social
and political unrest but which fall short of providing necessary context.
Fanatically right-wing Civil Guard Antonio Tejero (Paco Tous) leaves
home and is bused, along with 200 of his men, to the parliament buildings
in Madrid where just about every leading Spanish politician of the day is
present, including former president Adolfo Suarez (Gines García Millan).
Tejero’s aim is to create a power vacuum which the military will fill.
In a recreation of televised footage with which a generation of Spaniards
are familiar, the Guardia enter and take control, Tejero forcing the
politicians to the floor as rounds of bullets are fired into the ceiling.
In terms of exciting visuals, that’s about it. The long wait for military
reinforcements begins, and it soon becomes clear that things have not been
that well-planned.
The action moves into offices and military buildings around the country.
King Juan Carlos (Fernando Cayo) hears the news on the radio and is
angered to hear that Tejero, supported by General Alfonso Armada (Juan
Diego), has been using his name to gain access to the Parliament buildings.
After Juan Carlos makes a pacifying speech to the nation, support for
Tejero starts to drain away.
The risky choice of Joaquin Andujar as scriptwriter - whose previous work
has almost exclusively been farces about men with delusions of grandeur -
has unintended comic consequences. Largely wearing uniforms and
mustaches, thesps struggle gamely to individualize their roles, but – Juan
Diego as the turncoat Armada apart - the impression is of a gang of
exaggerated, cojones-obsessed, paunchy middle-agers unleashing their
personal prejudices against the country. While this reading may in fact
have a grain of truth, the script is disappointingly silent on the issues of
personal motivation that could have generated some real tension.
Attempts to humanize things are just cheesy: the personal background of
Tejero, a fanatic with a hint of the tragic clown about him, is sketched out
via a ludicrously perfunctory twenty-second phone call with his wife. King
Juan Carlos himself would no doubt approve of Fernando Cayo’s
hagiographic portrayal of him as the charming, cool-headed hero, finding
time to reassure his family as he slips dexterously from tennis whites to
military uniform to singlehandedly save the country.
Pic is well-documented, but sticks uncontroversially to the officially-
sanctioned version of events. Period detail is fine. Title is Spanish
convention for 23 February, the day when the coup took place.
ENDS