Structure and Symbol in the Film "Réquiem por un campesino español"

Author(s): HUW ALED LEWIS

Source: Mosaic: An Interdisciplinary Critical Journal , September 2000, Vol. 33, No. 3
(September 2000), pp. 81-93
Published by: University of Manitoba

Stable URL: https://www.jstor.org/stable/44029696

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 Francese Betrius 1985 film of Ramón J. Sender's Réquiem por un

campesino español, through use of sounds and images , oscillates

between the re-creation of the original novel and reinterpretation of its

view of the culpability involved in the build-up to the Spanish Civil

War.

Structure and Symbol in the Film

Réquiem por un campesino español
HUW ALED LEWIS

In Adaptation
Adaptationhis, Brian
NovelMcFarlane
, to Brian Film:twoMcFarlane
identifies distinct an Introduction identifies to the two Theory distinct of
modes of adaptation from the written word to the cinema
screen: re-interpretation , where the film-maker chooses
to retain the core structure of the written text while sig-
nificantly reinterpreting individual elements; and re-
creation , where very little of the original text is retained.
This essay examines the way Francese Betrius adaptation
of Ramón J. Sender's Réquiem por un campesino español
oscillates between these two modes in order to better suit

the narrative to the political and social climate in Spain in

the mid-1980s. Réquiem was one of several films produced
during the early to mid-1980s which were based on suc-
cessful written texts dealing with the years surrounding the
Spanish Civil War (other notable examples are Jaime
Chávarri's 1983 adaptation of Fernando Fernán Gomez's
Las bicicletas son para el verano , and Vicente Aranda's 1986
version of Luis Martin Santos's Tiempo de silencio ). This
interest in the Civil War is not surprising given the events
of 1981-83, which had seen the abortive coup led by
Colonel Tejero's seizure of the Cortes (23 February 1981),
and the introduction of the new Ley del Cine , more com-
monly known as the Ley Miróy on 28 December 1983,
which established a system of state grants administered by

Mosaic 33/3 0027- 1 276-00/08 1 0 1 3$02.00©Mosaic

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82 Mosaic 33/3 (September 2000)

the Ministerio de Cultura to support film production in Spain (Caparrós

Lera, Cine 57). The latter provided a tremendous boost to the Spanish
film industry in general, while Tejeros failure to topple the democratically
elected parliament effectively put an end to any lingering doubts that the
military might again interfere with the course of Spanish politics. For the
first time in its history Spain could rest assured that the democratic prin-
ciple would not be overturned by the disproportionate influence of a
powerful minority, and so the turbulent years surrounding the Civil War
could be looked at more dispassionately, without the fear of an impend-
ing return of the old regime, and a genuine note of reconciliation could
be struck in order to heal old wounds, rather than simply hiding them
from public view.
The reconciliatory motive is undoubtedly apparent in Betrius film, for
although it has been described as "on the whole a faithful recreation in the
cinematographic medium of Senders novel" (Hart, Réquiem 54), closer
analysis shows that the screen adaptation treats the events of the story in a
more even-handed manner than does the novel, where a much stronger
criticism of the Church is apparent. Although the novel "is surely more
than the condemnation of the Spanish Church for its part in the Civil
War" (Bly, Confused Reality 102), Betriu clearly tones down some of the
passages where such criticism is apparent, attenuating the culpability of
the priest, Mosén Millán, and accentuating Pacos contribution to his own
downfall. Indeed, there are a number of important differences between
the film and the novel, including the depiction of Mosén Millán, the vir-
tual omission of the ballad (it only appears once, in one of the opening
scenes) and the reduction of the number of flashbacks from nine to five,
as has been indicated by Frances Dorward. In his treatment of the ballad
and the number of flashbacks Betriu chooses to sacrifice the novel's prob-
ing inquiry into the nature of time and of memory in favor of a more
straightforward narration of the main sequence of events, an important
consideration given the fact that the film was originally made for televi-
sion serialization. But this does not mean that Betriu's creation lacks the
symbolic and metaphorical impact of Sender's novel, for there are also
additions that compensate for the omissions and alterations the director
has chosen to make in transferring the novel to the big screen. This essay
focuses on these additions and alterations, which have a direct effect on
the film's structure as well as on its audio-visual framework, as will be
shown if we proceed to develop an analysis based on a segmentation of its
main narrative sections:

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 HuwAled Lewis 83

OPENING CREDITS (with shots of the galloping horse, the village, and
the surrounding countryside)
1. Priest and monaguillo (altar-boy) in the present
2. First flashback sequence: Paco's baptism
3. Return to the present
4. Second flashback sequence:
(a) Children play in the church attic and Paco becomes the monaguillo
(b) Holy Week procession
(c) The toy gun incident and first communion
(d) The dying man
5. Return to the present and the arrival of Don Valeriano
6. Third flashback sequence:
(a) Carasol and the boys bathing
(b) Paco's preoccupation with the Duke (discusses him with his father
and with Mosén Millán)
(c) Village fiesta
(d) Paco's marriage
7. Return to the present and the arrival of Don Gumersindo
8. Fourth flashback sequence:
(a) Municipal elections
(b) Confiscation of the Duke s lands
(c) Departure of the Civil Guard and arrival of the señoritos
(d) Meeting in town square
(e) Search for Paco and the machine-gunning of the carasol
(f) Paco's secret visit with Mosén Millán
(g) Millán's interrogation
(h) Paco surrounded at Las Pardinas
9. Return to the present and the arrival of el Señor Cástulo Pérez
10. Fifth flashback sequence: Paco's execution
11. Return to the present and the beginning of the Requiem Mass
END CREDITS

As has already been mentioned, Betriu reduces the number of flashbacks

in Sender's novel from nine to five, and an examination of the above seg
mentation immediately reveals his reasons for doing this. We notice, for
instance, that the flashbacks gradually increase in both length and inten
sity of action until the fateful events of the fourth sequence, which is th
longest, yield to the abrupt and decisive ending of the fifth. Betriu there
fore carefully manipulates the rhythm of his narrative, rejecting Sende
more evenly paced account in favor of a portrayal that presents Pac

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84 Mosaic 33/3 (September 2000)

inexorable and dramatic fate as that of a juggernaut whose momentum it

has now become impossible to stop: as the tension and speed of action of
the film increase, so does our conviction that Paco cannot possibly be
saved. But this by no means implies that Betriu sacrifices the balance of
his narration. On the contrary, he even introduces new elements, not
included in Sender s text, as a means of ensuring that such equilibrium is
retained. Thus, we notice that the Holy Week procession and village fiesta
are incorporated as a means of retaining the balance between the religious
and the secular, a balance that predominates in the first half of the film,
and which gradually becomes overwhelmed by the increasing politiciza-
tion of the country, of the village and of Paco as the story unfolds, ending
in the latter's summary execution. Indeed, it is notable that, until the
fourth flashback sequence, the religious and the secular seem to be in per-
fect equilibrium: Pacos baptism is presented both as a religious and social
event; the Holy Week procession has its mirror-image in the pagan village
feast; the visit to the dying man has both religious and political connota-
tions; Pacos preoccupation with the absentee Duke is revealed in his dis-
cussions with his own, highly secular, father, and with the priest (who had
earlier described himself as Paco's spiritual father). Throughout these
early phases in Pacos life we are given the impression that an uneasy but
necessary balance exists between religious and secular life. However tense
and precarious this balance may be, as long as it exists a certain calm pre-
vails. With the municipal elections, though, the equilibrium is broken and
this brings with it the inevitable backlash that culminates in Paco s death.
Balance therefore yields to imbalance at the same time as the film reaches
the climax of its narration, and we are given the impression that all sense
of order and restraint has now been lost as violence and death descend
upon the village.
Nevertheless, although the film's narrative structure mirrors the
increasing destabilization of the village and of Spanish society as a whole,
Betriu uses a number of audio and visual motifs as a means of retaining
the coherence and unity of Sender's tale. The theme music is undoubtedly
the most fundamental of these. This folk tune, which is reminiscent of
pagan feasts and celebrations and which is reinforced by the diegetic
sound of the joyful music played during the village fiesta, is repeated in a
minor key as the camera focuses on the dead bodies of the prominent
republicans executed by the nationalist señoritos (8c). Suddenly, we
become brutally aware of the plaintive tone that has always underscored
this melody, and we realize that all preceding scenes of celebration and
merriment have really been little more than a prelude to the death and

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 HuwAled Lewis 85

destruction that is now sweeping through this village. Indeed, the natural
association of such music with joyous feasting and celebration also con-
trasts sharply with the sombre atmosphere surrounding the event which
provides the frame for the whole story, namely the Requiem Mass held in
honour of Paco one year after his execution. The association is further
underlined as the same theme is repeated during the end credits while we
witness the beginning of the mass itself. Again Betriu uses the secular (the
pagan tune which provides the non-diegetic audio frame of the film) and
the religious (the framing narrative device of the Requiem Mass) in tan-
dem, as a dialectic that will ultimately be resolved through Pacos execu-
tion (the elimination of the secular and anarchic) and the restoration of
the power and status of the Church (an affirmation of the supremacy of
state-sanctioned religion).
The notion that the interplay between the religious and the secular is
woven into the film's very structure is further reinforced by the fact that
another of its prominent audio motifs is the tolling of the church bell, the
first occurrence of which provides us with a bridge (both audio and
visual) between the film's present and Mosén Millán's first flashback. As
the monaguillo begins to ring the church bell, calling the villagers to the
Requiem Mass, a slow pan and zoom through the sacristy's small window
takes us back to the past and to a shot of the same bell ringing to celebrate
Pacos baptism. This instance provides a stark contrast between the two
occasions (birth and death) as well as contrasting with the theme tune
itself.
The church bell is heard on two other occasions in the film, and in
both instances it is clearly meant to evoke a death knell. The first of these
comes after the visit to the dying man in the cave (4d), when the last scene
depicts the young Paco alone on the church steps, having been abandoned
there by the angry Mosén Millán whose conscience, as on so many other
occasions, has been pricked by the boy's relentless questioning and inno-
cent observations. As the bewildered Paco turns to head for home and the

bells begin to toll, we again remember that this young boy's life has been
ended abruptly, violently, and we also have an inkling that his concern for
the downtrodden masses, here represented by the dying man, together
with his rejection by the priest, who had angrily slammed the church door
in Paco's face, may be two crucial factors that bring about his tragic
demise. This idea is reiterated the third time the bells are heard to peal
(6b), when Paco has been discussing the Duke with his father as they
work in the fields. The latter suggests that Paco should confront Mosen
Millán and, as the mother brings them food and they pause from work,

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86 Mosaic 33/3 (September 2000)

we again hear the bells ringing in the village below, linking back to the
church and to the priest, and further underlining the fact that Pacos open
defiance of the ruling élite will cost him his life.

In all his dealings with figures of authority, Paco shows himself to be a

man of principle who is prepared to stand up for the weak and for the
defenceless. His efforts, however, show a singular lack of tact and a reck-
lessness that place him in a highly precarious situation when the right-
wing returns to power. His stubborn refusal to tread carefully in such
matters is picked up by Betriu and starkly conveyed to the viewer by
means of the non-diegetic sound of a braying mule, which is twice heard
during the fourth flashback sequence, when political confrontation
comes to a head. After the municipal elections (8a), the pudientes (local
magnates) ask Mosén Millán to speak to Paco to ensure that he does not
take any drastic action against them, but the priest's pleading proves to be
unsuccessful, and as he walks away from the fields leaving Paco on his
own (both literally and metaphorically), we hear a mule bray, the sound
acting as a bridge between the end of this scene and Paco's entry into Don
Valeriano's house to discuss the Duke's lands. As Paco meets Don
Valeriano, therefore, we wonder whether his resilience and determination
is more a sign of stubborn foolishness than of bravery. These suspicions
are confirmed shortly afterwards (8c) when the news of the Civil Guard's
departure from the village is accompanied by a similar non-diegetic bray-
ing that clearly suggests a direct link between Paco's inflexibility and the
impending collapse of Republican rule.
The sound of the braying mule is but one example, however, of the way
that the symbiotic relationship between Paco and his horse is given much
greater emphasis in Betriu's film than in Sender's novel. Predominantly,
this relationship is conveyed by visual imagery and is apparent from the
opening credits, when Paco's abandoned horse is depicted galloping unre-
strained through the village. We know that a horse should not be free to
roam in this fashion, and so we immediately know that something is
amiss. Its sheer vigour and joie de vivre are highly symbolic of Paco him-
self who was a handsome and powerful youth with a keen thirst for life.
The horse's color, white (Betriu's choice, as there is no mention of the
horse's color in the novel), is appropriate not only because of its obvious
connotations of purity and goodness, but also because it contrasts sharply
with the stark and sombre shades that dominate elsewhere in the film
where dark colors (particularly blacks and the greys) are conveyed not
only in the way people dress (especially the priest, the pudientes and the

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 HuwAled Lewis 87

widows at the carasol ), but also by the dark scenes which either take place
at night, or else inside darkened rooms. All this, of course, helps to create
an air of oppression and of foreboding in the film, as we are given the idea
of sinister goings-on, of sadness, of secrecy and of plotting. Therefore just
as Paco, through his actions, is made to stand out from the crowd, so the
horse, through its striking beauty and color, is brought to prominence.
The horse appears again at the end of the first flashback when we return
to the present (3) to see it aimlessly wandering around the fountain in the
village square, a timely reminder after the baptism that Paco's demise con-
trasted sharply with his entry into the world, and that his death has left a
tremendous vacuum in the village as well as in his family. The horse
appears twice in the fourth flashback sequence. At the end of Mosén
Milláns conversation with Paco following the municipal elections (8a),
and immediately prior to our hearing the non-diegetic sound of a braying
mule mentioned above, a long shot brings into one frame the empty land-
scape of rolling hills, the retreating Mosén Millan, Paco and, grazing in a
corner of the field, his horse. The significance of this scene is immediately
apparent. As well as depicting Paco's general isolation (see the discussion
of the landscape motif below) and the priest's personal abdication of all
responsibility in this matter, it also reminds us of the Paco = horse equa-
tion, which is used as a symbol both of youthful vigour and of abandon-
ment. Again, we see Betriu making effective use of contrast, this time
contained within the one motif, the horse. Later, after the Guardia Civil
has left the village (8c), the zapatero (cobbler) s worst fears are realized
when nationalist troops enter the village in their cars, all of which is wit-
nessed by Paco sitting astride his horse on the mountainside, an image
preceded by the repetition of the sound of the braying mule. Pacos stub-
bornness will still not yield, therefore, and in the juxtaposition of the
images of the nationalists in their cars and of Paco on his horse, together
with the audio accompaniment of the sound of the mule which reiterates
the equine connection, we are shown that Paco is going to be the fascists'
most important target as they attempt to rid the village of its militant,
rebellious tendencies. In addition, the juxtaposition of nationalist cars /
republican horse underscores the inequality of the contest between these
two opposing factions, the former supported by all the advantages of
modern mechanisation and outside support, the latter forced to rely
exclusively on its own mettle and primitive resources in its fight to retain
its freedom. The scene which depicts the horse's mysterious entry into the
church (9) is based closely on Sender's text, but when it is eventually
chased out by the awkward pudientes , we once more see it careering

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88 Mosaic 33/3 (September 2000)

through the village (an echo of the opening credits), and we are again
reminded that Paco, just like his horse, had gradually been removed from
the bosom of the Church to be sent careering, in his headstrong manner,
through the village's socio-political life. Here the horse, just like Paco,
moves from religious to secular surroundings. It is also noticeable that,
just as Pacos own militancy and dynamism increase during the course of
the film, reaching their pinnacle in the fourth flashback sequence (8), so
too does the horse motif receive a greater emphasis in this segment of the
film, where we are provided with no less than five audio or visual
reminders of the protagonist's equine connections. Paco, either in person
or by means of the image with which he is primarily associated, therefore
comes to dominate this section of the film in the same way that he is
shown to dominate life in the village. The film's structure and symbolic
framework once more reinforce the main events in its story, image and
metaphor underscoring the main narrative line.
Panoramic shots of the countryside surrounding this rural village
appear at several crucial junctures in the film, and have symbolic conno-
tations. In the third flashback sequence, after the depiction of the boys
bathing nude, we see Paco and his father working together in the fields,
discussing the injustice of having to pay so much rent to the Duke (6b).
This image of the men on their own out in the countryside, together with
the some half dozen or so other panoramic shots that the film furnishes of
the open, deserted countryside with the village rooted in the middle of
miles of rolling hills and empty fields (in 2, 4d, 8a, 8b, 8c, 8h), helps create
a tremendous feeling of isolation, compounded as it is here by the hard
toil that is the only means these men have of maintaining themselves and
their families at a basic level of subsistence. The image of the grasshopper,
which is so prominent in the opening pages of the novel, and which
vividly evokes Paco's entrapment and futile struggle to escape from the
clutches of an inexorable and tragic fate, is omitted from Betriu's film, but
in the sweeping shots of the countryside we may see a replacement or
adaptation of this image. In each of these shots we see that the village, or
Paco himself as the case may be, is very much on its own. There will be no
outside help to aid in the fight against oppression, there is no one any-
body can turn to for support: the villagers either have to rely on their own
resources in order to effect change, or simply accept the inevitability of
the continuing status quo. Paco fully realises this, and acts accordingly. To
a large extent we can see in this a reflection of Spain's own abandonment
by and isolation from the outside world during the fateful years of its
struggle against fascism. As was the case with Spain during the Civil War,

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 HuwAled Lewis 89

the only outside influence that will make its presence felt in this village
will be that of the fascists, here represented by the señoritos who arrive in
their motor vehicles and overwhelm the under- resourced and poorly sup-
ported republicans, who have been left to their own meagre devices by an
uncaring and impotent world.
We also notice that, as with the horse motif discussed above, these
shots of the village and of the countryside occur more often in the eighth
segment of the film (fourth flashback sequence), when Paco s militancy
continually distances him from those who might be in a position to pro-
tect him when the Republic falls. His political isolation is therefore under-
scored by the recurrent landscape motif which is used with increased
frequency in this section. The secular motif of the open countryside,
where we occasionally see Paco and his father laboring in the fields, has its
counterpart in the religious images which occur at various points in the
film, the most prominent of them being the Holy Week procession (4b),
which is only mentioned in passing in Sender s novel. In the film we wit-
ness the procession first-hand as it leaves the church, when we are shown
Christ carrying the cross, escorted by Roman soldiers, with the three local
pudientes (Don Valeriano, Don Gumersindo and el Señor Cástulo Pérez)
taking up the rear. The implications are self-evident: in the novel Paco is
clearly portrayed as a Christ-figure; Betriu reinforces this idea by means
of this visual episode, which comes on the heels of the scene where we
have witnessed Paco playing among the discarded wooden statues in the
church attic (4a). In the novel, the nationalist officer that arrests Paco is
referred to as a centurión , an obvious link to Christs Roman guards; the
film picks up on this allusion and provides us with an unambiguous
visual image of the way Paco will later suffer at the hands of his oppres-
sors, as did Christ on the Roman cross. The implication and understate-
ment of the novel has again been replaced by the bolder juxtaposition and
visual portrayal of the film.
Shortly afterwards, Betriu introduces another scene which is only
barely alluded to in Senders novel: Mosén Milláns instruction of the chil-
dren in preparation for their confirmation and first communion (4c).
Here, we see the priest using slides as visual aids to teach the children
about God and the Devil. In the first of these slides there is a depiction of
a man happily arising from his death-bed, with the priest informing the
children of Christ's love and capacity to turn sadness and death into joy
and life. Next, we see a slide of a man prone on his death bed, in dark,
ominous surroundings, with the Devil leaning over him and Mosén
Millán commenting that sinners are the Devil's servants and will be taken

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90 Mosaic 33/3 (September 2000)

away by the Lord of Darkness. After the confirmation has taken place,
with these images still fresh in our minds, we are presented with the visit
to the cave of the dying man (4d). The scene is highly evocative of the sec-
ond slide: the dark, lugubrious surroundings, the man on the verge of
death. It must strike Paco, however, that these pitiful people are evidently
not sinners, that they are not the Devil's servants and that the dying man
does not therefore deserve to be taken away by Lucifer like the man
depicted in the slide. Hence his constant and baffled questioning of the
priest: why does nobody care about these people? What is their crime?
What has their son done to deserve imprisonment? Satisfactory answers
are not forthcoming, and we have the first signs of Pacos disaffection with
the Church, with a Church that ostensibly condemns people for no par-
ticular reason, which seems to have no logic in its punishment nor com-
passion in its treatment of the weak and needy. Mosén Millan enters the
church leaving a perplexed Paco on its steps. When we return to focus on
the priest in the present a few moments later, Paco's words about the
dying man's inability to breathe ("no puede respirar [. . .]") and about his
abandonment by everyone still echo in his mind, giving us our first clear
indication in the film that this boy's life and subsequent fate really do
weigh heavily on his mind.
The sequence of events has been constructed by Betriu so as to build
up to this decisive moment. There can be no question that the visit to the
dying man is an important turning-point in Paco's life, when he realizes
that the Church cannot, or does not, provide the necessary support and
comfort for his fellow human beings in their hour of need. But the inci-
dent is given added vigor and clarity in the film through its close proxim-
ity to the preparations for the confirmation. In this way Millán's
hypocrisy, the chasm that exists between his words and his deeds, is
brought sharply to the fore, and we are given a clearer understanding of
why Paco disaffectedly turns his back on a Church whose actions do not
correspond to its lofty ideals, and whose representative in this village,
Mosén Millán, cowers ineffectually in the darkened sanctuary of his sac-
risty, afraid to face reality and to confront head-on the injustices that sur-
round him. The Holy Week procession and the instruction of the children
prior to their first communion therefore contain a heavy atmosphere of
foreboding and impending doom, which is reinforced, as elsewhere in the
film, by the darkened surroundings (at night / indoors) in which they are
set, and which contribute to the film's claustrophobic air. Again, a con-
trast is created between the enclosed and oppressive atmosphere within
the village and the false notion of freedom and liberty created by the

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 HuwAled Lewis 91

depiction of the open countryside discussed above. This combination and

juxtaposition is highly effective as it shows us that there is nowhere, inside
the village or out, within the context of religion or away from it, that Paco
can hide or escape from his inexorable fate. Isolated and vulnerable as he
may be out in the fields (it should be remembered that he is eventually
surrounded and captured at Las Pardinas, the rural hideaway to which he
had fled upon the arrival of the señoritos ), he is to be given no sanctuary
by the Church, either, and his fellow- villagers will be in as dangerous and
powerless a position as he himself, unable to help him as he had helped
them in the past.

This discussion has focused on the way certain audio and visual devices
are used by Betriu as recurrent motifs that, on the one hand, provide a
familiar, unifying thread as the film oscillates between diverse past events
and the single present reality of the Requiem Mass, and on the other pre-
sent the viewer with a series of contrasts designed to highlight the increas-
ing polarization of the society that is being depicted. As left- and
right-wing become increasingly entrenched in their own attitudes, with
no hope of compromise, so do the opposite poles of black/white, open/
closed, religious/secular, become more pronounced and evident, trans-
porting the viewer symbolically and imaginatively into the past world of
the story. Significantly, such contrast has also been identified as character-
ising Sender's novel: "Musical counterpoint underscores the concept of
dialectic that works through the narrative in a series of binary oppositions
that ironically invert established Christian cultural values in favour of
natural values: spirit/matter, soul/body, death/life" (McDermott 38).
Betriu's use of similar sets of binary oppositions in his dialectic not only
echoes the technique as it is used in the novel (a novel which lends itself
readily to cinematographic adaptation, not least because of the highly
filmic device of flashback which forms the basis of its entire structure),
but also helps to subtly alter the implications of the story itself, primarily
the way Mosén Millan is presented in a much less damning light than in
the novel. Many of the devices discussed above are used either to create a
general air of inevitability, or else to suggest that Paco himself must bear a
large degree of responsibility for his own undoing (notice, for instance,
that in the film Paco volunteers the location of his hideout to the reluctant
priest, whereas in the novel Mosén Millan tricks Paco's parents into dis-
closing this information).
Although Mosén Millan is depicted as weak and ineffectual in the film,
it is never suggested that he is a willing accomplice of the fascists, and

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92 Mosaic 33/3 (September 2000)

nowhere is this more apparent than in the gathering in the town square
when the nationalist troops burn the republican flag (8d). In this scene we
witness the three local magnates and Mosen Millan standing together on
the balcony of the town hall, watching the proceedings. As during the vil-
lage feast, the physical elevation of the pudientes reflects their social dom-
inance and political control, while the peasants are cowed and corralled
like animals by the nationalist troops. Don Valeriano, Don Gumersindo
and el Señor Cástulo Pérez are joined on the balcony by Mosen Millan,
whose obvious unease and tentative imitation of the fascist salute,
prompted by his desire to appease the dominant group (he nervously
glances around to see what everyone else is doing), shows him to be a
reluctant conformer. Indeed, even Milláns eventual compliance in actu-
ally doing the salute here does not automatically make him a fascist sym-
pathizer in our eyes, since everyone else in the square, whether
nationalist, republican or neutral, is forced to do exactly the same. He is a
very frightened man who certainly does not wish to incur the wrath of the
powerful nationalists by openly opposing them, but there is no indication
at all that he is a contented and willing collaborator. Down in the square,
everyone is forced to salute in a similar fashion, and as the camera pans
across the assembled crowd and depicts their grudging acquiescence to
the orders of the nationalist troops, it gradually tilts vertically, silhouet-
ting the outstretched arms against the sky and framing the villagers and
the background hills in a diagonal shot that suggests that it, the camera, is
also emulating the fascist salute. In so doing, it generates an air of imme-
diacy and participation by bringing the viewer into the action as if we,
with the camera acting as our alter ego , are also slowly forced into copying
the salute. How can we blame or condemn someone for doing exactly the
same as us? How can we pour scorn on Mosén Millan for his weakness
and compliance when we succumb and behave in exactly the same fash-
ion? Meanwhile the fascist anthem is sung and the audio-visual dimen-
sion of the film is exploited once more, this time to stress the total
domination on this village of the reactionary forces of oppression.
Without question, José María Caparrós Lera's opinion that "Paco
Betriu sigue buscando su obra maestra" ("Betriu is still searching for his
masterpiece" [275]) is a valid one, and certainly his Requiem por un
campesino español is not a cinematographic tour de force. Nevertheless,
Caparrós Lera's statement that "en el Rèquiem [. . .] de Betriu hay acaso
mucha tarjeta postal del mundo campesino español" ("Betrius Réquiem
provides rather a picture-postcard view of Spanish rural life" [275]) is
unduly harsh, as the various visual and audio devices used by Betriu can

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 HuwAled Lewis 93

be seen to perform a specific function within his film's structure, altering

the course of Senders narrative in some places, enhancing it in others, but
invariably doing so with purpose, coherence, and a keen appreciation of
balance and of narrative and symbolic progression.

WORKS CITED

Betriu, Francese. Réquiem por un campesino español Venus Producción S.A. and Nemo
Films S.A., in collaboration with TV3, with a subsidy from the Ministerio de Cultura,
1985.

Bly, Peter A. "A Confused Reality and its Presentation: Ramón J. Sender's Réquiem por un
campesino español ." The International Fiction Review 5.2 (1978): 96-102.

Caparrós Lera, José María. El cine español de la democracia. De la muerte de Franco al "cam-
bio" socialista (1975-1989). Barcelona: Anthropos, 1992.

Dorward, Frances. " Réquiem por un campesino español: Reflections after the Film" in Essays
on Hispanic Themes in Honour of Edward C. Riley. Ed. J. Lowe and P. Swanson.
Edinburgh: Department of Hispanic Studies, U of Edinburgh, 1989. 268-88.

Hart, Stephen. Réquiem por un campesino español. London: Grant & Cutler Critical Guides
to Spanish Texts, 1990.

McDermott, Patricia, ed. Ramón J. Sender: Réquiem por un campesino español. Manchester
UP: Hispanic Texts Series, 1991.

McFarlane, Brian. Novel to Film: an Introduction to the Theory of Adaptation. Oxford:

Clarendon P, 1996.

HUW ALED LEWIS is a Lecturer in Spanish at the University of Edinburgh , Scotland.

He has published articles on Latin American and medieval Spanish literature , and on the

politics and economy of contemporary Spain. He is currently completing a book on

Spanish folktales.

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