The films of Luis García Berlanga covered a wide range of different topics and genres, and looked into a variety of ideas that presented us with some distinct masterworks of Spanish cinema. However, one component that they all shared is that they were produced under the guise of being the director’s exploration of the society he saw around him as he grew up and became an artist, each one being an essential piece of a broader cultural puzzle that Berlanga was so committed to presenting through his work. Miracles of Thursday (Spanish: Los jueves, milagro)is one of his crowning achievements – a charming comedy centred on a working-class village somewhere in rural Spain, who decides that the only way to maintain their existence is through forcing tourism through the arid region, which they do through staging “appearances” by a particular saint, which is actually a plot concocted by a group of businessmen trying to boost the reputation of their small hamlet. It’s a simple but unforgettable story that looks into the intersections between belief in an almighty deity, and the undying devotion most of us have to the idea of wealth, with the only path to enlightenment apparently being the one that gives us the most comfort in our daily lives. Combining a morality tale of religious belief with a cutthroat, darkly comical satire, Berlanga accomplishes an incredible feat with Miracles of Thursday, putting together a fascinating portrait of a village in crisis, and both their efforts to overcome it, and the comeuppance they receive from thinking that they can outsmart the wrong people. Scathing, funny and insightful, there aren’t many films quite as enthralling as this, especially when it comes to presenting us with a very distinct image of the human condition.

Another area that Berlanga thrived at through his films comes in the form of a fascinating tendency he had to transform simple religious or cultural parables into some of the most subversive, experimental dark comedies of their era. Watching a film by Berlanga can sometimes be a profoundly disorienting experience, his the foundation of his stories are firmly rooted in the intricate social structures he encountered throughout his life, but they’re executed with such a delicate, satirical sense of humour, they can’t ever be pinned down to one particular genre. His films are presented as dizzying comedies with dialogue that speeds past at a rapid pace, leaving us to either hold on for our lives, or else lose the plot completely. He’s not the first filmmaker to take on this approach, nor is he the one that did it the best – however, he’s certainly someone who made use of it in his own unique way, which makes all of his films so compelling. A good satire is one that provokes us to laugh at subjects that would otherwise be taboo when it comes to comedy – and Berlanga’s fearlessness, combined with his dedication to each one of his premises, gave his films a depth that shows that they are far more than just surface-level comedies that make a mockery of sacrosanct concepts, but have a degree of complexity that drives them forward and makes them so poignant, and allows the comedy to feel so much more refreshing and honest, with his candour as a storyteller exuding from every frame of this mercilessly offbeat glimpse into life in a small Spanish town.

Yet despite the very clear comedic edge to the film, there is still an element of discomfort that persists throughout his films, a sense that he holds nothing but umbrage for many of his characters, to the point where he is willing to reconfigure them into the most despicable, hateful individuals one can imagine, but still interesting enough for us to become invested in his journey. The key to understanding Berlanga’s work is to consider the fact that he isn’t necessarily telling stories that are all that humorous – many of them are quite bleak and unsettling, especially those that take on some more challenging concepts such as poverty or religious belief. The humour instead comes in the execution, with the director straddling the line between comedy and drama with a precision that would make any of the great satirists of the past envious. Berlanga’s grasp on the collective cultural pulse was incredibly strong, as made exceedingly evident in all of his films – and his ability to derive humour from the most serious of situations, without sacrificing the gravity or meaning behind them, is unmatched. There is a cutting-edge sense of self-awareness to these films, a kind of unflinching honesty that allows it to expose the shortcomings of society that are often blissfully ignored en masse. Berlanga has very little time for pussyfooting around these serious issues, and instead portrays them in vivid detail, through the lens of darkly comical satire.

Berlanga’s style is distinct – as mentioned above, you can always identify his films by the use of rapid-fire dialogue (some of it even overlapping into a frenzied cacophony of shrieking voices), an ensemble cast that often features familiar faces, such as the incomparable José “Pepe” Isbert (who has a pivotal role here), and a sense of endearing satire that normally gives insights into the trials and tribulations of the working class. It’s a delightfully irreverent approach that can be found everywhere in Miracles of Thursday, which has some of the best uses of the director’s trademark quirks, but also the good sense to have its own unique style, with Berlanga using his voice as a creative guide-post, rather than as a means to just draw from the same set of tricks that are normally found when a director adopts a particular approach to telling stories. We never quite know where this story is going to take us – as much as his plots seem relatively simple, Berlanga was never one to surrender to conventions, which means that predicting the resolution of these stories is a fool’s errand, since they deviate wildly and become entirely unexpected without so much as a moment’s warning – but this doesn’t matter when the journey there is so utterly delightful. By the time we’ve accepted that nothing quite makes sense in this version of the world, and that the director derives pleasure from going in unexpected directions, we’ve already been swept up in this strange and provocative morality tale, and the result is something so compelling, we don’t even notice the inconsistencies that got us there in the first place, with most of the shortcomings being covered up by a generous layer of well-placed humour, making everything Miracles of Thursday accomplishes all the more impressive.

Outside of a core group of supporters, or casual viewers who may know him better from his unimpeachable masterpiece The Executioner (which has recently enjoyed a major critical reappraisal and restoration, as have many of his films), Berlanga is still relatively unknown outside his native country, but the more we push films like Miracles of Thursday forward, the wider his reach becomes, which allows his films to become more accessible, and his vaguely perverted vision all the more interesting, since it can now be interpreted by a wider global audience, who will undoubtedly find something new in these films. There is a thought-provoking sense of honesty that makes his films so thoroughly compelling – and even at their most biting, the blow is softened by a genuinely endearing sense of sweetness that prevents them from ever being entirely inaccessible. Charming, but with a biting honesty that precludes it from ever being anything other than insightful, Miracles of Thursday is an incredible achievement – and the deft combination of religious imagery and socially charged satire makes this such an enthralling slice of magical realism, the kind that carries a message, even if it’s embedded below layers of dizzying comedy that takes some effort to fully adjust to, but becomes entirely worthwhile when we are immersed in this world that Berlanga so gleefully explores. Blending genres, and taking on the establishment is a tall order for any filmmaker, but Berlanga accomplishes it with absolute ease, and gradually shows himself more than capable of living up to the steadily-growing reputation he has slowly amassed over the past few years, where his genius and devil-may-care approach to humanity make for some profoundly moving, and perhaps even disturbing, portrayals of everyday life.