On Monday afternoon, I had already planned two documentaries carried out in the Basque Country. I am not particularly fond of documentaries, but Zinemaldia is often a good opportunity to set aside habits and traditions. I decided on the Pello Gutierrez Peñalba Replica a week ago, when I was booking tickets for all the sessions. I've taken advantage of the synopsis to choose what to see, and when I read the Replica, it seemed a bit mysterious to me.

The synopsis gathers phrases like: “In 1979 the Virgin of Zikuñaga disappeared.” “A collective void.” “This is a film about the voids.” “My father, filmmaker Juanmi Gutierrez died a few years ago.” You see between the lines where it's going, but at least it seems mysterious. However, I did not expect to see such a personal and moving job. He has worked on the ideas of the empty spaces and the symbols, on the one hand, relating the history of the theft of the Virgin, the confrontations and the collective organization that occurred in the people; and, on the other, he has sensitively touched the emptiness of his father, which generates death. How we fill the void, the stolen Virgin, the dead father, sometimes with a replica.

All the ideas have been developed throughout the documentary, and to do so, the spectator has taken the voice off of Pello Gutierrez. A personal, intimate, respectful film in which the public has totally internalized the feeling. I also believe that the music of Maite Larburu has contributed a great deal to the broadcast.

What I liked the most was the subsequent talk and, above all, the part of the questions from the public, where the influence it has had on people has been noticed. He has taken the microphone, among other things, one person who in 1979 denounced or recorded the theft of the Virgin Mary and another who, I believe, was from Hernani. The room has been filled with emotion, gratitude and emotiveness. People have had a hard time getting out of the room when everything is over, that will mean something.

Sculptures in motion

The next documentary has been One Hundred Volando, by Arantxa Aguirre, about the life of Eduardo Chillida and, above all, about his work. I think this work is closer to what we imagined when we hear the word documentary. The actress Jone Laspiur has guided us throughout Eduardo's life, conducting interesting interviews with people nearby and also with people linked to Chillidaleku. The documentary interviews different types of people: Some Chillidaleku workers or Eduardo's friends and acquaintances had a lot to tell.

I'm not going to lie, I haven't been caught as much as the rest of the documentary, but not because it was worse, not much less, but because it had another more neutral style. It seems to me that he has looked very carefully at Chillida's image and that the interviewees treated the artist with praise and friendly words. In addition, the work has been aesthetically and pleasantly cared for, from beginning to end. The sculptures helped a lot, of course, and also the landscape of Chillidaleku. But we must also be able to demonstrate this, and I think it has done so, with normal but balanced plans.

I don't know anything about Eduardo Chillida's work, let alone the sculpture and the plastic arts, and that's why perhaps the documentary has stayed a little away. But it's been a unique opportunity to learn and get to know a small part of art history here. Finally, as a detail, the last plane seemed particularly good to me. He has closed the film in an incredible way and has achieved everything he wanted.