There are a few universal themes that propel the majority of art, and very few are quite as resonant as that of family, for the sole reason that we can often find other very common themes (such as love, death and companionship) reflected in these stories, but very rarely the inverse. No matter the configuration or dynamic, cinema will always find a way to relate a story to family in some way, especially when it comes to more dysfunctional narratives. As Leo Tolstoy famously wrote in those opening lines to Anna Karenina, “All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way”, which is a perfect way to kickstart a conversation on 53 Sundays (Spanish: 53 domingos), in which Cesc Gay – one Spain’s finest playwrights and filmmakers – adapts his own play of the same title, taking a bitingly funny story and developing it into a beautiful, heartwrenchingly compelling exploration of siblings and their ability to find common ground. The film centres on Julian, who is in the midst of a midlife crisis, which is only worsened by the fact that he has been forced to arrange a meeting with his siblings to discuss their ageing father and some of his recent erratic behaviour. Julian’s brother Víctor is a pretentious man-about-town with delusions of grandeur and an inflated sense of self-importance whose ego has led him to write a book (which is in reality a glorified pamphlet), whereas their sister Natalia is more level-headed from a distance, but proves to be someone who constantly needs to be in control, using this as an excuse to not explore her own repressed sexuality. Over the course of an evening, the trio (accompanied by Carol, Julian’s wife and the film’s narrator) engage in a series of conversations that range from mild bickering to outright confrontations, tied together by their shared familial connections, but divided by decades of differences that have caused them to drift apart and become very different people. A bitingly funny film that features some of Gay’s most precise and subversive writing, 53 Sundays is a special film, albeit one that requires some patience to fully understand all of its infectious appeal.

Perhaps starting this conversation by evoking the opening lines of an untouchable literary classic that is not exactly considered lightweight reading does something of a disservice to this film, at least in terms of not exactly covering the various narrative layers that drive this story, or doing justice to its tone. However, beneath the layers of humour, there is a very clear subject that is being explored, which we can reduce to a single question: how do you maintain a relationship with your siblings if you have become entirely separate people? We tend to look at families as either being so similar that they can barely be considered separate entities or people so radically different that the connections between them are tenuous at the best of times. 53 Sundays looks at the middle-ground, focusing on a situation where three siblings are struggling to connect on a deeper level, but will always have certain aspects of their lives that bind them together, whether its a shared familial bond, or simply the fact that they have experienced similiar events in their lives (particularly their earlier years) that will always reignite once they have been able to set aside their differences. Gay is someone who is radically compelled by the art of observing human behaviour, dissecting seemingly ordinary conversation and turning them into deeper, more profound explorations of contemporary society, and in presenting us with the story of a trio of people who have allowed a few years of deviation from one another turn into something that resembles deep loathing, Gay is able to make some remarkable statements on how these families tend to function. It’s a very intriguing approach, and one that conceals many compelling ideas, each one placed there tenderly by a director who has clear intentions and a deep sincerity that feels, at the worst of times, extremely heartfelt and insightful, even if it can take some time to recognise what is being said.

53 Sundays has a very simple, straightforward approach – it is quite open about the fact that it isn’t trying to reinvent the genre or do anything we haven’t seen many times before. The narrative is direct and unfurnished, and doesn’t need to do too much in terms of attempting to be original, since this is the kind of film that thrives on the simplest of narrative cues. We have to remember that this is based on a stage play, so it is going to be inherently quite theatrical. As is sometimes the case, Gay is the person adapting his own existing text, and like we often see from playwrights-turned-directors (although he has the added benefit of having made films before this, and therefore understands the industry much more than those who have only skirted around its edges), there aren’t too many changes made. While he may not be entirely against making certain alterations, the proverbial act of killing one’s darlings, he is already working from quite a restricted concept, and there is only so much that can be done with this narrative to justify a film adaptation. Nevertheless, we find that Gay does find a way to make the story profoundly cinematic – whether through positioning the character of Carol as our direct audience surrogate, or the process of playing with time and location (neither of which is as malleable on stage as they are in film), we find that 53 Sundays becomes quite a memorable deconstruction of the human condition. It is looking at some tough subject matter, but it never feels heavy-handed or unnecessarily dense, choosing instead to be upbeat and captivating, rather than dwelling on overwrought emotions that may be more realistic on a technical level, but lack the ingenious spark that makes Gay’s stage work so captivating, a quality that he has more than appropriately implemented into his filmmaking process.

While it is not an overly complex affair as far as its subject matter goes, 53 Sundays does prove to thrive in areas that many other films would find to be an obstacle. One such area is the cast, who handle some intimidating subject matter with incredible prowess and an abundance of good-natured humour for good measure. Gay has a real knack for choosing the right actors to bring these roles to life on screen. Despite featuring a cast consisting of actors working with this material for the first time (none of them having been in the original stage production, which is a strange choice considering this is usually the kind of film that does very well when those who had spent several nights a week developing these characters were allowed to reprise their roles), everyone is operating at an exceptional calibre. The de facto lead is Julian, as portrayed by Javier Cámara, who is one of the most instantly recognisable actors in contemporary Spanish-language cinema, and someone who has done some terrific work over the years. He’s perfectly capable of playing someone who is essentially a well-meaning dunce, but with a quiet complexity that unravels as the film progresses. He’s both the primary propellant for the story (despite not being the protagonist, who would instead be his wife, here played splendidly by the wonderful Alexandra Jiménez, who is the anchor for the entire piece) and the patsy to his siblings, who are played by actors equally as good as Cámara, leading to a fascinating dynamic between the leads. Carmen Machi is his pernickety sister, and Javier Gutiérrez his pompous brother – two entirely different archetypes at play, but brilliantly capturing every intricate nuance and character-based detail. Three very different characters played by exceptional actors that manage to strike the balance between underlining the differences between them and highlighting the similarities, all of which is part of the fascinating approach taken by the film to tell this story. Ultimately, it’s the cast that is going to make a film like this function, and everyone is doing exceptionally well throughout the film.

It certainly may not be aiming to redefine the genre or do anything entirely unprecedented, but 53 Sundays is nonetheless a very charming film, and one that does manage to hold our attention. It does help considerably that it runs just over 70 minutes, being much swifter and more concise than many other films that tackle these themes (and we could reasonably expect the director to add in more dialogue to inflate the film and reach a longer length, even if it is perfect as it is), which is a remnant from its origins on stage, where all the audience needed was a good script, strong performances and a decent concept, in exchange they hand over an hour of their time, allowing the director to produce something quite compelling without overstaying his welcome. 53 Sundays is a well-constructed film, being visually very simple but having an air of authenticity that does add layers of nuance where we’d least expect it. It’s not an overly dense affair, and it actually manages to be quite insightful in how it explores certain themes without needing to be too heavy or didactic. Instead, it chooses a common subject, allows it to evolve into something more profound while still keeping the tone and style light, engaging and frequently very simple, which ultimately proves to be the key to this film’s success. Gay is not a director who has quite had his major crossover moment (although he is steadily rising in stature – The Invite, an American adaptation of one of his plays, The People Upstairs, is due to be released this year, which will at least give more exposure to his ideas, even if he’s not directly involved), but as one of Spain’s most compelling contemporary storytellers, Sunday 53 is more than capable of finding its audience, doing something so incredibly different with a story that is so much more familiar than we’d expect based on a brief cursory glance.