Cast: Fernando Fernan Gomez, Manuel Lozano, Uxia Blanco, Gonzalo M. Uriarte, Alexis de los Santos, Guillermo Toledo
Director: Jose Luis Cuerda
Producer: Jose Luis Cuerda
Screenplay: Rafael Azcona, Jose Luis Cuerda, Manuel Rivas
Cinematography: Javier G. Salmones
Music: Alejandro Amenabar
U.S. Distributor: Miramax Films
In Spanish with subtitles
For independent and "art house" studios like Miramax Films, the summer movie season becomes a time of counter-programming. Despite being financially backed by Disney, Miramax cannot afford to go toe-to-toe with $100 million efforts like Paramount's Mission: Impossible II and Dreamworks' Gladiator. So they roll out something that's quiet, sentimental, and likely to appeal to those movie-goers who are not impressed by flying bullets, thunderous explosions, and bloody sword fights. Or, to put it another way, they hunker down in the niche they have already carved out. Their choice for the early summer of 2000 is Butterfly (called Butterfly's Tongue when it played in sold-out theaters at Sundance), a Spanish picture that uses an historical context to emphasize truths about human nature.
For the most part, Butterfly plays as a fairly conventional (albeit expertly filmed) coming-of-age story set in the advance shadow of the Spanish Civil War. What differentiates this movie from numerous similar films is its ending, which offers a powerful and heartbreaking statement about the destruction of innocence and how quickly children learn the art of self-preservation. Butterfly is from director Jose Luis Cuerda, who previously produced Alejandro Amenabar's Thesis and Open Your Eyes, a pair of unconventional thrillers. (Amenabar is on board for Butterfly, but only as the film's composer.)
Set in the winter of 1936, Butterfly tells of the unique relationship between eight year-old Mocho (Manuel Lozano) and his kindly teacher, Don Gregorio (Fernando Fernan Gomez). From the first day the sensitive boy enters his classroom, Don Gregorio recognizes the child's limitless potential. With patience and affection, the elderly man imparts life lessons to his young charge, instructing him on the finer points of literature, nature, and how to woo a girl. But storm clouds are gathering over Spain as the political situation becomes a powder keg, and, through what transpires as a result, Mocho learns his most unpleasant lesson. Despite being well-respected in the village, Don Gregorio is an atheist and a Republican, and, under the rising tide of fascism, those qualities mark him as a potential enemy of the State.
Politics do not become a significant factor until the end of the movie, although they linger in the background throughout. There's always a hint of darkening gloom during the otherwise sunny days, especially when the chill of winter gives way to the glories of a new spring. Butterfly's first three-quarters are designed as a series of vignettes that develop Mocho's character and illustrate facets of his relationships with Don Gregorio, his companions, and family. We observe Mocho and a school friend as they curiously follow a young man of the village when he sneaks out to meet his sweetheart. (This leads to the movie's steamiest - and funniest - scene). Mocho "courts" Aurora, a girl his age who has caught his eye. And, while on a road trip with a group of musicians, Mocho's older brother is smitten by the young Chinese wife of the man who provides him with a bed for the night.
Mocho's home life is simple. His parents love him, as well as each other. Mocho and his brother get along uncommonly well for siblings who share a bedroom. Meanwhile, viewers who have seen their share of foreign imports in recent years may find a degree of familiarity in the relationship between Mocho and Don Gregorio. These two enjoy the same kind of special bond evident between children and adults in movies like Cinema Paradiso, Kolya, and Central Station. It's a give-and-take friendship that benefits both participants, often in unexpected ways. Don Gregorio finds someone thirsty for his company and eager to learn the knowledge he can convey, and Mocho discovers things about life he could never learn from anyone else.
Butterfly has the virtue of mixing a pleasant tale about growing up with a harder-edged conclusion. However, this is not a case of an ending redeeming an otherwise mediocre motion picture, because Cuerda's feature is worthwhile throughout. Nevertheless, the shock value of the denouement will cause audiences to leave Butterfly with a different set of emotions than those imparted by a Cinema Paradiso clone. Butterfly makes a powerful statement about the dark side of human nature and the traits that characterize it: cowardliness, betrayal, and mean-spiritedness. The brutal manner in which these are depicted elevates Butterfly to a level it would not have attained had it remained in the arena of placid sentimentality.
© 2000 James Berardinelli