CREW
director
*Manuel Huerga
screenplay
*Lluís Arcarazo
producer
*Jaume Roures
photography
*David Omedes
original music
*Lluís Llach
*Crew details
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screenplay
Selected filmography
- 'LLACH, LA REVOLTA PERMANENT' (2006, Lluís Danés, documentary)
- 'CÁMPING' (2006, Lluís Arcarazo, tvmovie)
- 'GOSSOS' (2002, Roma Guardiet, tvmovie)
*Details in IMDB.com
I really wanted to write 'Salvador (Puig Antich)'. I suggested it to Paco Escribano shortly after reading 'Cuenta atrás'. I told him that because of the theme, the main character, and the historical time period it made it a film worth making. Paco smiled back at me. The decision wasn't down to him. A couple of years went by and one August day, right in the middle of the holidays, he rang me.
That's how in September 2003 I meet Jaume Roures and Manuel Huerga in a restaurant in València street in Barcelona and on the strength of repeated dinners, almost always in the same restaurant and at the same table, always with a different guest but with the same goal, to try to work out who Salvador Puig Antich really was through the testimony of those who knew him best: his sisters, his friends and his brothers in arms.
Our first meeting was with Imma, Montse and Carme Puig Antich. All three were generous in their help and all of which was dutifully appointed in my little black book. From the information which emerged through their testimony, as well as that of many others, I began to suspect what I'd learnt long ago: that life doesn't change us as much as we think it does and essentially we are who we are. For that reason Carme remains full of life and retains that fighting spirit that characterizes her, Imma strong and full of energy, Montse, fragile but indestructible.
In Pons Llobet's eyes, we immediately saw the look of the young man they called Cheese. Loquacious and determined and on a serviette there right in front of us he mapped out the raid on the branch of the Banco Hispano-Americano.
I remember Jordi Solé because of his handshake. Hands that had held a gun. And the look in his eyes. The look of someone who lived to tell the tale. His brother, Ignasi, for his impeccable manners and his intelligence. Smoking a cigar and pretending not to understand why we would want to make a film.
Marian Mateos was a reluctant participant. For her it was something to forget. Quesita's link with the group was more emotive than ideological. But she told us about Salvador's musical tastes. "I talk to the wind, my words are all carried away...".
It was clear from Xavier Garriga, the Secretary, who for years never wanted to talk about the whole thing, that he had bitter memories of the events.
In la Barceloneta, Emili Pardiñas confessed that on one occasion they celebrated a successful bank raid with a big paella by the sea.
And Felip Solé, with the memory of an elephant, spent hours providing me with all manner of details, opinions and memories in the coffee lounge of the Hotel Suizo.
One autumn morning, I received a call from someone who had spent more than twenty years in prison: Jean Marc Rouillan, ringing me from Lannemezan jail. Weeks before I had written to him asking him if he could talk to me about Salvador and the MIL. He did just that, in the most exquisite detail.
Merçona Puig Antich came alone. She described Salvador from the perspective of a thirteen year-old girl.
Francesc Caminal, meticulous and prudent, talked admiringly about Oriol Arau, who did so much for Salvador and who also maybe lost a part of himself on that 2nd March.
Dr. Barjau, who the day of the shooting was on duty in Emergency, told us everything he wasn't able to say at the trial.
Father Manero, still affected by the events, transmitted his affection for Puchito, that rebellious student that he considered such a good lad.
On another occasion, Marcos Ordóñez provided us with a vague sketch of Francisco Anguas, who he had gone to the cinema with to see a pirated film.
In Ibiza, beside a tragic blue sea, Jesús Irurre gave us details of the execution and how meeting Salvador had changed his life. I don't doubt it. Looking at his bronzed face and grey ponytail, nobody would ever say that he was once a prison guard.
In Palma de Mallorca we spent endless hours in the Bar Bosch, chatting with Margalida. Overwhelming and passionate, she provided insight into Salvador's intimate side and on the way back to the airport I thought about the Leonard Cohen song: "And you know that she's half crazy / But that's why you want to be there…".
And now getting a feel for Salvador, one winter night we fell in love with Montse Plaza whilst she told us how he taught her how to kiss.
Time passed. I thought I knew who Salvador was. I wrote the script and the film was shot.
And looking at Daniel Brühl's face, I couldn't help wondering what Salvador would look like now. What would have happened to him? What would he be doing? What would remain of the person he was? And what would he think of all this?
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