Fire Will Come – O que arde (2019)

Directed by: Oliver Laxe | 86 minutes | crime, drama | Actors: Amador Arias, Benedicta Sánchez, Inazio Abrao, Elena Mar Fernández, David de Poso, Alvaro de Bazal, Damián Prado, Nando Vázquez, Manuel Martínez, José Luis Santalices, Manuel Santamarina, Antonio Fernández, Nuria Sotelo, Ivan Yañez, Rubén Gómez Coelho, Luis Manuel Guerrero Sanchez

Every year, severe fires rage in Spain’s northwestern region of Galicia. These are getting worse every year, and to date it is unclear where the origin of the fires lies. Are they lit, and if so, by whom? Farmers, politicians, vandals? Galician director Oliver Laxe has had a fascination for these ferocious fires for years – through his origins in the region, but also, on a visual level, as a photographer and filmmaker. In ‘Fire Will Come’ (‘O que arde’ or ‘What burns’ in Galician) fire and arson therefore play a major role, as a booster of the plot, as a threatening element and as a visual highlight of the story.

That story is about the taciturn Amador (beautifully played by the non-professional actor Amador Arías, with just the right head for the role), who, after serving several years in prison for arson, returns to his parental home on the countryside of Galicia. A deserted region full of dark skies, where the tourists don’t want to come, and the villagers keep a close eye on each other. Amador’s old mother Benedicta welcomes him, cautiously at first, preparing his breakfast in silence, but soon noticeably relieved at his presence. In recent years, Benedicta (great role of 80-year-old Benedicta Sánchez) has had to take care of the big house and the livestock herself. Not that she’s complaining, by the way, any more than Amador does, or reveals anything about his time in prison.

Despite the limited conversation between them, we do see the two blossoming. The sun finally breaks through the seemingly eternally rainy region, Amador gets back into farming and even meets the charming vet Elena, who moodily sets up Leonard Cohen as they sit in her car together. ‘Nice music,’ says Amador. “Too bad I don’t understand the words.” And just then, when everything seems to be going a bit better, a fire breaks out. It’s no surprise that the local residents point to Amador. Director Laxe points out the inconvenience of this – the question of guilt, the tendency to look for a scapegoat – without providing answers. Other elements also pass by without precise explanation, such as the menacing bulldozers thundering through the woods. Is he suggesting that they might be even more dangerous than the fires themselves?

Laxe steers clear of judgment, is not interested in a precise explanation, but does allow the viewer to examine to what extent we accept something or someone as it or he is. Do we accept the capricious nature with all its dangers, or do we want to contain it, bend it to our will? Do we accept someone whose character is not completely predictable; fits within our specific set of norms and habits? We should not expect ready-made answers to these questions from the modest film, but the questions themselves are relevant enough to chew on.