This past year, we celebrated the fiftieth anniversary of The Spirit of the Beehive, a film that has withstood the test of time and become a cultural cornerstone for much of Spanish-language cinema, which was introduced to many viewers through this remarkable piece of filmmaking. Whether or not it was intended to mark half a century since this incredible film, we have received something of a spiritual sequel in the form of Close Your Eyes (Spanish: Cerrar los ojos), in which Victor Erice emerges from decades of doing more abstract work in short-format and documentary filmmaking, and proves that he remains one of the most exciting and inventive voices in European cinema and a true master of his craft in every conceivable way. Telling the story of a once ambitious filmmaker who decides to go in search of his friend, an actor who disappeared two decades earlier right at the start of their second collaboration, the film unravels many mysteries as it follows our protagonist navigating various challenges as he sets out to find the truth about a subject that has fascinated the world for years and served as one of the great mysteries of his own professional life. It is a challenging, profound and captivating drama that asks the viewer to extend beyond the realm of our usual perception of many of the themes he presents throughout the story and instead encourages us to focus on the intricate details and how they can accumulate into something much deeper and more profound when viewed alongside one another, Close Your Eyes is an immense achievement that proves Erice still possesses that unquenchable thirst for pushing the boundaries of his craft, taking his ideas further than ever before and allowing us to luxuriate in the complex world he intends to explore in vivid detail. Carefully paced but bursting with life, and driven by a genuine sense of curiosity that feels compelling and profound in ways that are sometimes difficult to comprehend at first, the film shows us a different side of both the artistic process and the human condition, handcrafted by a truly extraordinary filmmaker making his triumphant return to a medium he helped revolutionise in his own small but significant way.

The concept of a film as a love letter to cinema has become oversaturated to the point where it is forming into a sub-genre of its own. It seems like every filmmaker, whether novice or seasoned veteran, will at some point make a film that pays tribute to their love for the medium, whether as a semi-autobiographical account of their own experiences with the artform, or some other thinly-veiled pastiche for their love of the movies. Erice is one of the pioneers of this style of filmmaking since The Spirit of the Beehive is widely seen as one of the most impactful examinations of not only the art of filmmaking but also the experience of being in the audience. It is not surprising that the director chose to start his career with a film that centred around a child’s first encounters with cinema, and his most recent (and likely final film) is focused on that same experience, just through the eyes of someone much older, and much like Erice in the final chapters of his own life. There is something quite profound about the symmetry that stands at the heart of Close Your Eyes, especially when it comes to looking at how film changes our perceptions of the world that surrounds us, and in many instances shifts our entire perspective as a whole, which is always an important moment facilitated by artists, who are tasked with opening the eyes of generations of people who see life through entirely new perspectives after engaging with these small but significant works of art. This film in particular looks at how cinema is not only there to entertain, but also to tell our story, which is something that becomes increasingly more difficult to unpack as time progresses and we start to see that there is very little difference between the stories told on screen, and how we engage with them on a psychological level in our everyday lives. Close Your Eyes, in focusing on characters that serve as both artist and audience, revolves around the art of leaving a legacy behind, one that is contained on celluloid and can never be precisely described in detail, but yet is still experienced as part of some universal truth, something that is beautifully captured in this striking, heartfelt and deeply moving film about the power of cinema and the role of self-expression in not only in the act of creating art but also how it is perceived by others.

Erice has always been a filmmaker who doesn’t intend to lay all of his cards bare at the start but instead is more interested in looking at the layers that exist right at the heart of these stories that he sets out to tell. Close Your Eyes continues his decades-long attempt to satiate his curiosity about not only the art of creation, but the act of perception, and how the two exist in tandem, a cyclical process that is best described as a tug-of-war between the artists who express themselves, and the audiences who are given the chance to see the world through the perspective of these gifted individuals. We gradually start to see the lines between reality and fiction blurring throughout this film, and we can’t help but wonder how much of this story was drawn from the director’s own experiences, particularly as someone lauded for only two masterpieces, which was enough to consolidate him into history indefinitely, but not sufficient in satiating his desire to keep exploring these subjects in some way or another. These ambiguities are the foundation for Erice’s examination of the artistic process, and it is unlikely that this film would have been as impactful had it not come decades after the director’s last official foray into narrative filmmaking. It is through looking at these components that we start to realise the underlying meaning simmering beneath the surface of the film, which is essentially defined as being about the bold humanity that comes through when a miraculous work of art is introduced, and how the story behind these unforgettable images take on an even more important meaning. The film uses an artistic narrative that is steeped in mystery to explore the lives of these characters, touching on themes such as ageing, friendship and identity, and how these are all factors that define the lives of these people, and how despite their radically different paths in life, it is the act of simply gathering in a darkened theatre and peering at the images projected on screen that bring them together, both physically and psychologically – that is the true magic of art, and something that Erice smartly uses as the ultimate thesis statement of this complex and often quite challenging film.

The process of bringing this film to life may fall primarily on Erice, who conceived of the entire project and chose to execute quite an ambitious vision, despite cinema changing considerably in the forty years since he last stood in this position of making a relatively conventional feature narrative film. However, the responsibility to tell this story is shared with the actors, with a large ensemble cast being woven into the narrative, but where the story is essentially anchored by two performances – Manolo Solo as Miguel Garay, the film director who has been haunted by the memory of his friend, whose disappearance he can only assume is the result of his depression and existential angst resulting in suicide, and José Coronado as Julio Arenas, the man who lingers in the memory of these characters, and whose life and presumed death serve as the foundation for the story. The two men look quite alike, something that we don’t notice at first but becomes very obvious in the final act, when they are brought together in a series of some of the most cathartic, complex moments of the year, and their ability to essentially shapeshift in and out of these characters purely through their behaviour and approach to how they play them in a given scene, makes Close Your Eyes a masterful example of character-driven cinema, a detailed and compelling drama about the human condition as seen through the eyes of these very complex protagonists. The rest of the cast is just as exquisite – Ana Torrent reunites with Erice, and there is something incredibly moving about the final scene and how it draws parallels to her performance in The Spirit of the Beehive, both visually and in terms of what it represents, while veteran actor Mario Pardo is breathtaking as the main character’s friend and the voice of reason whose wisdom is at the heart of many of the film’s most moving moments. This film works well because the actors realize the gravity of the story being told, and the complex ideas that inspired it live through every moment of this film, their performances reflecting each nuance and intricate detail, making for an astonishing, layered depiction of many complex themes.

While he may not have stopped working entirely (since his career is filled with unique short films that are more aligned with artistic exhibitions than narrative storytelling), it has been a long time since Erice has made a film on the level of Close Your Eyes, so its understandable that we will be inclined to view this as a major revival from a filmmaker whose previous work has been consolidated in film history as being amongst the greatest to ever be made. However, considering it a return seems a bit misleading since everything about this film indicates that it is less of a comeback, and more of a coda to a long, fascinating career. The parallels with his previous work are undeniable and profound, and make it clear that this is a self-reflective work by a director who is looking back on his career and attempting to explore his relationship with an artform he adores, but which has challenged him in many unexpected ways over the years. These ideas have been stirring in his mind for years since they emerge on screen with crisp precision and a deeply moving sense of honesty that is profound without being needlessly sentimental. Every detail is well-placed and meaningful, and the overall experience is one of profound honesty and impeccable humanity, something that is quite captivating while never being entirely clear about what it intends to say, instead leaving a lot of the story to the viewer’s interpretation. It is an enigmatic film in which the answers are rarely provided, but rather are subjected to allusion, with the general tone lending itself to a more enigmatic experience. Erice once again proves that he is a master of his craft, and whether we are drawn to those feelings of appreciation for him giving us another masterpiece, or simply enamoured with the incredible story he weaves with this film, it is undeniable that Close Your Eyes is a major achievement, and one of the most insightful examinations of how cinema is not only a means of entertainment, but possesses the ability to change our perception and understanding of the world that surrounds us, and which we grow to understand more through engaging with these works of masterful artistry.