‘The summer we live’ is a clear substitute for ‘Palm trees in the snow’, a film in which it is reflected in practically everything, both the good and especially the bad. It is what it wants and pretends to be, what it tries … but in the end, it is not. Because more than a passion contained within a movie, it is a product hatched in the cold and calculating head of a speculator.
Like that one, ‘The summer we live’ is a melodrama and / or a romantic drama of about 120 minutes long that can be seen, just like that. An attractive cast, bombastic music and a loose budget, in an apparent luxury that ends up being something good and bad at the same time: Well, because it is something that is appreciated on the (big) screen; bad, because it tends towards the comfortable and formulaic.
And is that ‘The summer that we live’ is another obvious exercise in style with classic film nfulas that remains, in this case, in no man’s land. A conservative and not at all brave story that bets on the safe side and through the usual channels of the genre, settling for languishing with apparent solvency at that intermediate point without any personality where nothing is passionate, and nothing bothers.
Partly because of a script that seems to be snapped and forcibly wedged into a standard-length container. The feeling, again, is that of a miniseries reduced to a film that is left with the desire to cover more than the minutes of footage allow, with two stories developed in parallel that instead of feeding on each other, end up hindering each other. the one to the other.
There is the unnecessary and withered protagonism of Guiomar Puerta and Carlos Cuevas, snatching the air from Blanca Surez and Javier Rey, protagonists of the poster but not of a film that ends up being more of Pablo Molinero due to its thick-line romanticism. It is anger and not love that is floating in an overloaded setting that invites little to emotion, or to life.
Little was learned from ‘The Bridges of Madison’, an ideal example of calm, adult and emotional melodrama narrated in two stages. ‘The summer we live in’ is an apao propped up on a formula, and as such it feels mechanical, expressionless, alien. Although it does not get boring or heavy, it is frustrating to the extent that there is nothing that catches us again or with our guard down.
A beautiful dish, but very little nutritious and above all, little or nothing emotional. The history of the past required something more than the present so that we can feel it as something alive, or lived; as something that can arouse some passion. But no, ‘The summer that we live’ is just another summer that we see go by, as well as a new opportunity to verify that Javier Rey is quite calm.
And of course, starting from this base, for now, it is not understood that the much more charismatic Blanca Surez and Pablo Molinero pay more attention to him than to them.
By Juan Pairet Iglesias