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Film: Hierro
Release date: 26th July 2010
Certificate: 15
Running time: 86 mins
Director: Gabe Ibáñez
Starring: Elena Anaya, Nea Segura, Mar Sodupe, Andrés Herrera, Miriam Correa
Genre: Mystery/Thriller/Horror
Studio: Optimum
Format: DVD & Blu-ray
Country: Spain
Like the starkness of a “missing” poster, Gabe Ibáñez’s Hierro immediately seeks to hook an audience and serve a purpose, the underwater submergence in its eerie opening a nod to the natural mystic. The commonalities of recent thrillers involving absent youths suggest a struggle between practicality and supernature; can children really just vanish? While the reality, of course, is that many of the missing are never traced, Hierro imitates forays into this burgeoning sub-genre (The Forgotten, The Dark, The Orphanage, to name but a few) by entertaining the notion of the mother-son bond as transcendent of physical relativity.
Hierro is immediately complicated by the repetition of similar instances of mothers entering into consciousness - from a car accident and deep sleep, respectively - to find their sons nowhere to be seen. The latter of the two forms the basis of the film, as María (Elena Anaya) wakes from her slumber on a ferry bound for the island of El Hierro and panics that her son Diego may have been kidnapped, or worse, drowned.
Divers come up empty and three years pass before the discovery of a body brings María back there, where she is asked to identify the corpse. Revealing that it is not Diego, the circumstances of her return to the island encourage María to ponder whether her son may still be alive somewhere, and when she thinks that she sees him on a deserted beach, her mindset alters to accommodate an investigative instinct…
What of this mother-son bond then? Julianne Moore, Naomi Watts, Maria Bello and Belen Rueda have all recently played distraught maternal figures attempting to track down their offspring by whatever means – usually to the extent of at least recognising what has happened to them. There’s a sense of atonement in their actions, that by contravening authority they become grown-up children themselves - that they are somehow behaviourally complicit, closer to relating to the people they have raised. We don’t really get the opportunity to gauge whether the guilt in María has set in at first, since the film skips forward in time rather abruptly after Diego becomes officially lost. It begs the question: what has María been doing in the three years that have passed? Why is she now suddenly demanding a resolution?
Fascinating as they are, neither the film nor an occasionally dynamite Anaya can fully address these queries, which are consigned to the backburner for the showier tendencies of director Ibáñez. The early premonitory announcement by Diego to his mother that he doesn’t like hide and seek, “because you might not find me,” is an early sign that Ibáñez is eager to plug Hierro’s sinister undertones. It proves alarmingly destructive in quelling the sensitivity of Hierro’s themes, as he overworks the production with incessant aural shock-tactics, and saturates the mise-en-scene with revelrous flash-camera frippery. His attempts to allude to the mythical elements of the island, and mystery surrounding the whereabouts of Diego, extend to the kind of rash eventualities that see a maintenance man fish a doll’s head out of a blocked toilet. Even a shower sequence designed to demonstrate María’s cleansing of guilt, the final phase of her post-ferry grief, is so strobe-distorted that it’s borderline unwatchable. Pushing this overt brand of macabre creepiness detracts from the interesting socio-realist angle offered - María’s bitter desperation recalling shades of last year’s Katalin Varga, a film that chronicled a brewing sense of vengeance in its heroine.
It enables us to register with the dread of having our sense of scope rendered foolish, that we aren’t omnipotent, and that questions can’t always be answered, but cajoles us by confirming some of María’s suspicions about El Hierro and its inhabitants. During María’s quest for answers, she boards a trailer and proceeds to have a violent face-off with the woman - a scene which indebts itself to Tarantino’s Kill Bill and marks a shift in direction for the film. For periods, the film is as dark and captivating as this scene, and Anaya’s presence carries it through even its most absurd revelations, but while often suggested that mortality is a less ambiguous state than rationale, the focus is placed more on plot than character. María’s grief is undermined by the gratuity of this stand-off and the fetishisation of her as a powerhouse would-be-killer reinforces the sense that Hierro has become somewhat of a joyless spectacle.
Considering the emotional weight of the first act, there is little organic about the way that the film is put together. Ibáñez, while essentially ‘generous’, appears bound by influence, and heavy-handed with the more uncertain aspects of the story. Hierro benefits from the debilitating sparseness of the landscape, but is too compact as a narrative, and suffers from the many brazen efforts to generate suspense. A sombre lullaby over the closing credits may act as sonar relief at the end of a tiresome ordeal, but it’s only the cherry atop a stylistic mound of confection. Sometimes less is more. CR
Film: Hierro
Release date: 18th June 2010
Certificate: 12A
Running time: 89 mins
Director: Gabe Ibanez
Starring: Elena Anaya, Nea Segura, Mar Sodupe, Andrés Herrera, Miriam Correa
Genre: Mystery/Drama/Thriller
Studio: Optimum
Format: Cinema
Country: Spain
For the last half-decade, Spain seems to have been establishing itself as the place to go if you want to indulge in imaginative and atmospheric spine-tinglers. Films like Pan’s Labyrinth (2006) and The Orphanage (2007) have gone on to win over both international audiences and critics alike with their compelling storylines and interesting visuals. This leads us to Hierro, Spain’s latest export proudly sporting the now attractive: “From the Producers of Pan’s Labyrinth and The Orphanage” marketing hook on its poster.
A single mother – María (Ellen Anaya) – takes time off work to be with her young son Diego (Kaiet Rodríguez). They take the ferry to El Hierro (situated within the Canary Islands) for a vacation. However, María’s son goes missing mid transit, which results in an extensive search of the ferry and surrounding port once the vessel has docked, but to no avail. Diego has disappeared.
Time has passed, and María is seemingly coming to terms with her loss, but has developed a phobia of the water, which is all the more frustrating considering that she works in a sea-life centre/aquarium.
She receives a call from the Hierro police stating that they have found the corpse of a young boy and need her to identify the body. María, along with her friend Laura (Bea Segura), travel back to the foreboding shores of Hierro where María, based on a chance encounter that she has on a desolate beach, soon becomes convinced that her son is still alive…
The film starts in promising fashion: opening on a minor character driving through the mountains with her young son, which makes way for a startling and interestingly realised car crash whereby the son simply vanishes during the aftermath of the wreckage before the mother regains consciousness. In retrospect, this scene merely sets a trend for things to come: a film with plenty of visual flash but absolutely no weight and a severe lack of emotional punch. In fact, it’s surprising just how bland and by-the-numbers Hierro is, even while it basks in its professional and stylish light.
The main problem is a severely underwritten script that borrows quite heavily from The Orphanage. Both films centre on a woman searching for their missing child in an isolated and unfamiliar locale, but while The Orphanage creates a genuine foreboding and uneasy mise en scène with a supernatural undercurrent, Hierro, by compassion, feels somewhat watered down and tired, reserving any and all eeriness to short lived Lynchian, effects laden nightmare sequences with a particular favouritism towards birds and water imagery (for reasons that are not satisfyingly apparent).
Since the disappearance María, for no readily ascertainable reason, develops a phobia for water making her work, as well as simple tasks such as swimming and bathing, very difficult. This would be understandable had her son drowned when he went missing on the ferry but reasons for his disappearance remain inconclusive. The inclusion of the frequent bird symbolism is perhaps even more frustrating; making aspersions towards some enigmatic or supernatural force, but ultimately proving to mean nothing of merit, except for possibly a shallow attempt at creating an eerie atmosphere.
María’s investigation into the possibility of her son still being alive takes her to all corners of the island, with the script forcing her to interact with the usual cavalcade of red herrings, including the disgruntled ex-employee and the isolated hermit. She even receives help and advice from the island’s well meaning but close-minded police officer. The result is sequence after sequence of drab enquiries for a mystery with little intrigue or emotional investment for the audience’s part. It makes for a flat and predicable experience, with the film’s overt symbolism and insistent musical score strongly implying a rather unimaginative twist which, when it does finally arrive, sets in motion the usual flashback sequence, where the previous clues are relived again in all their obvious glory.
First time feature film director Gabe Ibáñez has a clear flair for visual indulgence, as the cinematography is perhaps the film’s strongest asset; showcasing a beautiful and frequently threatening landscape. It comes as no surprise that Ibáñez is a former music video director, and while he has the potential to go on to become a filmmaker of note, he hasn’t been able to shake off the pop promo stigma of having style with no substance in this debut. All that’s mustered here is a nicely shot film with some welcome eye-candy in the form of Ibáñez’s leading lady. It may be worthy to note the surprising amount of nudity in a film that’s been certified 12A, although it’s never sexualised.
The cast do what they can with a decidedly under-developed script. There is a distinct lack of chemistry from most of the cast members, as well as a slight air of animosity. The relationship between María and her son – perhaps the most pivotal aspect to the narrative – lacks warmth and feels half-baked. They only share three or four scenes together before the disappearance, which doesn’t give much time for the audience to bond and then switch to empathy in time for the frantic searching of the boat and beyond.
Despite the pedigree of those involved, Hierro, while not a complete disaster, is a mostly lacklustre affair that bears no real resonance after the credits have rolled. While occasionally pleasant to look at, the film’s one note, transparent and ultimately predicable storyline, only serves to erect great big signposts pointing towards a rather easy-to-guess and unsatisfying conclusion. Those not accustomed to the genre will possibly find it more impressive; the rest will find it to be a hollow exercise in stylish tedium, which is disappointing to say the least. MP
Interview with Elena Anaya courtesy of Optimum Releasing.
Nothing is more terrifying than our own worst nightmares coming true. That’s the starting point of Hierro, a chilling tale of psychological suspense that probes the unsettling questions of who we can trust and what we most fear.
The film is about those inner demons we carry around with us but cannot quite see. In exploring fear as a primal human emotion, Hierro stresses the idea that the most chilling and startling horrors are generated in the human mind itself, where both our own personal demons and ancestral nightmares still lurk, rather than from events in the outside world.
Hierro marks the debut of acclaimed commercials director Gabe Ibanez, who also directed the multi-award winning short film Maquina. Written by Javier Gullón, screenwriter of El Rey de la Montana, Hierro brings together a solid cast headed up by Elena Anaya in a role which sees her push the depiction of mother’s heart-wrenching devotion to its very limits…
María is the most mature character you’ve played up until now, a mother who loses her son. How did you prepare for the role?
Gabe told me that we were going to make sure María had the full weight and maturity she required, because this is a woman who’s grown up very quickly. She lost her parents when she was young, and lived with her sister. One way or another, she has organised her own life from a very early age, living alone with the person she adores so much, her son, who doesn’t have a father and around whom she creates a very particular micro-universe.
Gabe had every single scene in his head, and he explained very clearly to me what story he wanted to tell. After almost two months of preparation, the character begins to breathe of its own accord. It’s a kind of gestation period, an evolutionary process where you have more options, a greater range of possibilities available, to convey who the character is and who you want the audience to see in her. My job was to breathe in time with the character, to maintain the same state of tension she has to bear: a highly charged emotional state. I lived in María’s world. This very personal and peculiar universe is centred on her son, on her relationship with her son, to such an extent they almost feed off each other. Maria is so attached to her son that without him she feels like she’s dying, she can’t breathe, she can’t accept this new reality, it’s just too harsh for her to take in.
We saw many children during the casting sessions, and many of them were fantastic, but I especially connected with Kaiet. He looked me in the eye, and if he got scared, he didn’t show it, he lived through it, and when he smiled, he smiled with his eyes. I felt like he could have been my son. Shooting the film with him has been fantastic. It’s always a bit difficult with children, because everything is up in the air. You don’t know what’s going to happen in the next take, you just don’t know how they’re going to react... and this kid has been just great, incredible.
What was it about Hierro that attracted you most?
To begin with, I was simply very interested in telling the story, but once I met Gabe I began to get really enthusiastic about the way it was going to be told, which is just as important as the story itself. I was practically living at Gabe’s house for a month-and-a-half as we prepped the character. We went through the screenplay for about a month, not only to take the story apart bit by bit, but also to look at every aspect of the film.
In Hierro the atmosphere is just as important as my character, and that atmosphere is created by all of the departments: production design, cinematography, wardrobe... All films come down to teamwork of course, but in this one specifically I’ve felt nourished each day by the work of everybody on the set. I needed that during prep, it was very gratifying and a great experience. It had to be that way; it would have been tough to make the story believable with just my performance.
What working method did you and Gabe use?
Gabe is maybe one of the directors who’s given me most - information and affection, too. He’s been very precise throughout the process regarding how he wanted the two of us to tell this story... with the help, of course, of an extraordinary crew. It makes no difference if a director comes from the world of commercials or of theatre, if he’s shooting his first film or if he’s already directed two dozen. The very first day he told me: “Filmmaking is very difficult," and I answered back: “You’re so right, and it’s great you realise that.” There are people out there who think they know everything and instead of making the job easier, they make it more complicated. One of Gabe’s greatest strengths is that he left absolutely nothing to chance.
It’s true we were lucky during the shoot, everything went just as planned, but above all there was lots and lots of work, loads of planning, lots of homework to be done, and that makes things flow in a very special way every day. It’s been such a beautiful experience, and I always very much felt that everybody was by my side, which is a very good feeling when the time comes to do your thing in front of the camera.
How do you think Hierro has contributed to your career?
Hierro is the film I’ve enjoyed doing the most. For me, it was just like a gift. I lived through the creative process on a daily basis, and that’s a great opportunity for me as an actress. And I’ve also made lots of friends. Given that it’s such a long and tiring creative process, it’s not always easy to come away with the kind of kindness and affection I’ve received every day here. OP
