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Arizona Journal of Hispanic Cultural Studies, Volume 17, 2013, pp.

9-28 (Article)
3XEOLVKHGE\8QLYHUVLW\RI$UL]RQD
DOI: 10.1353/hcs.2013.0009

For additional information about this article

http://muse.jhu.edu/journals/hcs/summary/v017/17.terreros.html

Access provided by The English and Foreign Languages University (26 Feb 2015 11:38 GMT)

Baserritarra:
Identity, Violence
and the Other
in Post-Franco Basque
Cinema
Gorka Bilbao Terreros received his Ph.D. in Spanish
and Latin American Literature from the University
of Liverpool (UK) in 2010.
He is currently investigating
representations of Basqueness
in American and Peninsular
cinema and literature and
works as a Lecturer of Spanish at Princeton University.

he present article examines the way in which the baserritarra,1 one of the most iconic figures of the Basque
imagery, has been represented in post-Franco Basque
cinema. Through the analysis of three filmsTasio (1984),
Vacas (1992) and Ander (2008)this study illustrates the
evolution of the baserritarra from a once ultra-traditional and
monolithic bastion of Basqueness to a hybrid paradigm capable
of integrating both traditional and modern elements. It is this
paradigm that better represents the reality of current Basque
society. The presence or absence of a threatening Other will be
pivotal in this argument since, as Joseba Gabilondo points out,
representations of Basqueness only function within the political
order that gave rise to their creation and against which they
position themselves (271). The characters in the films analyzed
rebel against the presence of a menacing alternative order imposed by external forces by exercising their Basqueness in the
most traditional sense. According to Jo Evans, this is a classic
motif in Basque cinema in which: Violent conflict with the
other dominates [the narrative] and the Basque screening of
identity is haunted by the profoundly important (big) Others, of the Franco dictatorship, Finance and Terrorism (La
Madre Muerta 174). Certainly, it is possible to observe in
Tasio, Vacas and Ander how the violent conflict with the Other
generates an increasing tension that pushes the protagonists
towards traditional behavioral patterns. The adoption of those

Arizona Journal of Hispanic Cultural Studies Volume 17, 2013

10

Arizona Journal of Hispanic Cultural Studies

patterns causes the rejection of the alternatives presented by that Otherness in the first
two films. However, the progression of the
baserritarra from an outdated figure to a
more modern one will only be accomplished
when both the threatening Other and the
alternative to customary paradigms of
identity that it represents are removed from
the equation. As Ander shows, only when
the alternatives are presented from within
the individual and not from without, will
traditional identity appear more malleable
and adaptable.

About the Issue

of Basque Cinema
In an article that explores issues of identity
in three Basque films, there is an implicit
necessity to briefly address an issue that has
been lingering over Basque film production
since the final years of the 1970s: the nature
and boundaries of what comprises Basque
cinema itself. As Gabilondo indicates:
[Basque cinema] is characterized
by an uncanny questioning of its
own identity and existence which is
not found in, for example, Basque
literature and art. The question
of whether Basque cinema has an
identity or even exists is still dogged
by controversy, sometimes bordering
on violence. (264)

Certainly, as detailed below, the topic has

been the subject of exploration for over three
decades, and it is still a source of conflicting
responses from both national and foreign
cinema critics.
In 1976, the Primeras Jornadas del
Cine Vasco that took place in Bilbao tried to
establish a series of guidelines to define what
should be understood as Basque cinema. As

Ann Davies suggests, in these Jornadas: the

link between nation and national cinema
was made quite overtly [] Basque cinema
being understood as that cinema which
supported the call to independence and
which used the Basque language Euskara
(360).2 Basque cinema then would be one
that used the resources available in the Region, was filmed in Euskara, the language
of the Basques, and would help portray the
Basque Country as an entity that distanced
itself from the Spain of the Transicin.
These parameters set forth what Sojo Gil
would define years later as Basque National
Cinema (Algunos apuntes 64-66). This
definition, however, quickly proved to be
inaccurate if not unachievable. This was particularly due to the limitation imposed by
the linguistic constraints of Euskara, which
not only restricted the target audience of
the films in their homeland, but also their
economic and artistic impact in the rest of
Spain. Thus, in the 1980s, critics reached
a more pragmatic and realistic solution in
order to describe the phenomenon: la frmula cine vasco/cine producido en Euskadi
(Roldn Larreta, El cine de Euskadi 82).
This particular formula of equating Basque
cinema to that filmed and produced in the
Basque Country, (including Navarre), was
partially encouraged by the grants that the
regional Government allocated to support
the creation of films with substantial Basque
participation.3 In fact, Tasio by Montxo
Armendariz was one of the films that benefitted from such generous institutional
financing.
The definition of Basque cinema was
yet again problematized by modifications
made to the government subsidy policies
during the nineties,4 as well as the fact that
many of the young and successful directors
born in the Basque Country rejected being
categorized simply as Basque directors

Gorka Bilbao Terreros

during that decade. Directors such as Julio
Medem, Alex de la Iglesia or Juanma Bajo
Ulloa were interested in expanding the horizons of an industry that needed to find new
forms of expression and wanted to break free
from a label they understood as antiquated
and limiting. As Torrado Morales affirms:
estos jvenes autores se muestran
absolutamente irreverentes con el
pasado [] con formaciones distintas mezclan gneros, triunfan en
festivales e intentan hacer frente a
la colonizacin americana con sus
nuevas formas de expresin y de
promocin. (52-53)

As was the case with Julio Medem before

filming Vacas, many had to leave the Basque
Country and move to Madrid in order to
carry on with their projects, thus eliminating the clear cut geographic boundaries that
seemed to delineate Basque cinema during
the 1980s, and reopening a theoretical
discussion about the existence of Basque
cinema itself.
The controversy has continued well
into the new century and is still an object of
debate amongst critics. Thus, while scholars such as Mara Pilar Rodrguez or Carlos
Roldn Larreta suggest that such discussion
is futile and should be abandoned,5 others
like Jaume Mart-Olivella, Joseba Macas
or Kepa Sojo Gil deny the existence of a
Basque cinema per se.6 Alternativelyand
as Gabilondo points outBarry Jordan
and Rikki Morgan-Tamosunas have tried
to find the true nature of Basque cinema,
precisely in that uncanny questioning of
its own identity and existence previously
mentioned, placing a tremendous emphasis
on the questions of identity themselves.
By contrast, authors such as Jenaro Talens
and Santos Zunzunegi have set aside any

11
discussion about issues of identity and have
taken an approach that favors notions of
historicity (Gabilondo 266).7 Therefore,
the questions about the nature of Basque
cinema seem to linger still, and a definitive answer appears to be nothing but an
unattainable goal.
While the exploration of the boundaries of Basque cinema is not the aim of
this article, its approach does resonate
with the slant Gabilondo, Jordan and
Morgan-Tamosunas take toward the matter. The three films examined here have
strong ties with the Basque Country from
a geographical and logistical point of view,
but their narratives revolve around the
issue of Basque identity, specifically. As
previously mentioned, Tasio was a project
heavily financed by the Basque Government and television station (EITB). It
was directed by Montxo Armendariz, a
self-declared Basque born in Navarre,8
and had an almost entirely Basque crew
and cast. Vacas, written and directed by
Guipuscoan director Julio Medem, was
also partially financed by the regional
government. Although the majority of the
funding came from Spanish institutions, it
had a cast of mostly Basque actors. Finally,
Ander was funded by Berdindu, the Basque
Government agency for gay and lesbian
integration, filmed predominantly in Euskara with Basque actors and directed by
Roberto Castn, a young author born in
Galicia who has strong ties to the Basque
Country.9 These films were also shot within
Basque territorywhich will play a pivotal
role when exploring traditional behaviors
and representations of identity.
Nevertheless, defining these films
as Basque cinema simply due to the
geographical location in which they were
filmed seems to be quite a limiting and
problematic approach. This narrow view

12

Arizona Journal of Hispanic Cultural Studies

becomes more apparent if we take into

consideration the fact that the driving force
behind them is the uncanny questioning of Basque identity itself, an identity
embodied in this case by one of the most
iconic and traditional representations of
Basquenessthe baserritarra. It is from
this perspective that these three films will
be studied in the subsequent pagesnot
as an attempt to clarify the question of
what is or is not Basque cinema, but in
an effort to explore the encompassing and
more daunting proposition of what is or
is not Basque.

The iconic figure

of the baserritarra
The adoption of the baserritarra as an
iconic figure in the imagery of the Basque
people can be easily traced back to the
nineteenth century, a time in which Basque
society experienced social, economic and
political changes that would dramatically
alter the shape of the region. This transformation acted as a breeding ground for the
foundation of modern Basque nationalism,
a movement that helped to stress the lines
that separated what was Basque, authentic
and traditional from what was foreign, imposed, modern and ultimately, dangerous.
Basque society was portrayed by nationalists as a society divided between a rural
world that defended the good, old values
and traditions, and an urban world that
was becoming contaminated by foreign
influences. As Olaziregi states:
Son precisamente esos dos mundos
los que se erigirn en el centro del
imaginario y de los estereotipos que
aliment el nacionalismo vasco,
tanto en la literatura [] como en
otras manifestaciones artsticas.

If the rural sphere was portrayed as the stereotypical Arcadian Basque world, it was only
natural that the baserritarra, an independent,
Catholic, traditional and for the most part,
Basque-speaking (masculine) figure, was
heralded as the epitome of Basqueness
Many decades before he appeared on
screen, the baserritarra had a pivotal role
in the seminal novel, Peru Abarca (1881).10
This was the first instance in which the baserritarra occupied center stage in a discourse
that focused on the existing dichotomy of
city/country in Basque society. In fact, the
novel is considered to have shaped the way
in which the rural in general and the baserritarra in particular were to be represented
for nearly the next century.11 According to
Ibon Sarasola: Peru Abarca adopta como
tesis una ideologa reaccionaria que tuvo en
su tiempo y tiene hoy todava una enorme
fuerza: las formas de vida y lengua del
campesino, del baserritar, deben constituir
para la totalidad de los vascos un modelo
a imitar (in Juaristi 70). After its publication, the growing influence of costumbrismo
in Basque writers allowed the figure of the
baserritarra to keep its privileged position in
the Basque imaginary well into the twentieth
century thanks to novels by authors such as
Domingo Aguirre and Jos Manuel Etxeita,
among others.
It is only toward the end of the century
that Basque literature starts challenging the
notion of the rural space as being:
[La] quintaesencia de lo vasco y
mostrndonos un entorno campestre
perdido por las ms bajas pasiones.
Era la plasmacin, sin duda, de una
sociedad vasca, la de los aos ochenta, que tena la necesidad de plantear
un concepto de identidad alejado del
trasnochado idealismo de la novela
costumbrista. (Olaziregi)

Gorka Bilbao Terreros

These outdated identitary patterns from the
novela costumbrista were at odds with Basque
societys need to modernize at the end of
Francoism. In response, Basque writers
challenged old, well-worn identitary symbols and common places such as the rural
sphere and the figure of the baserritarra.
Howeverin contrast to what is achieved
in the films discussed belowby emphasizing the darker side of rural society, writers
such as Anjel Lertxundi, J. M. Irigoyen or
Paco Aristi seemed to be focusing on the
destruction of the ideal rather than on its
modernization or reinvention.

The baserritarra
goes to the movies
The first full-length fictional films made in
the Basque Country date back to the early
1920s, although the exploration of different genres and themes was quite limited
at this early stage.12 As was the case with
the literature of the time, films such as Un
drama en Bilbao (1923), El Mayorazgo de
Basterretxe (1924), Martinchu Perugorra
en das de romera (1925) and El milagro de
San Antonio (1925) narrated stories entre
el costumbrismo rural y el compromiso
urbano, reflejando las cosmovisiones de
dos universos paralelos (Macas 36). The
opposition between the rural space that represented traditional values and customs and
the Otherthe urban world that threatened
its very existencewhich had been commonplace in literature in the last century,
had found in cinema a new stage in which
it could further develop. Thus, in 1933, the
documentary Euzkadi was the first attempt
to consciously create a cinematographic
tradition that linked with nationalistic
ideology and helped to promote the idea
of a differentiated Basque identity based

13
on tradition and language.13 However, the
Civil War and the subsequent installation
of a totalitarian government that prohibited
any nationalistic representation other than
Spanish halted the young cinema industry
in the Basque Country.
It would not be until 1968 and the
debut of the documentary Ama Lur (Tierra
Madre) that traditional representationsor
any other, for that matterof Basque identity would appear on screen again. A milestone for Basque cinema, the film was also
heavily censored and watched closely by the
regimes ideological apparatus.14 Ama Lur
portrayed Basque society as one with origins
that could be traced back to immemorial
times, and whose traditions and language
were once more protected and defended by
joyful peasants who inhabited a bucolic and
peaceful agrarian landscape. Although the
documentary included footage that reflected
the economic reality of Basque society in the
late 1960s and the importance of the iron
industry in its development during the last
decades, it greatly reinforced the myth of
real Basque identity being found: en una
especie de Arcadia feliz, de prstino estado
de la naturaleza. Ama Lur abonar de
tal manera el imaginario de la sociedad, que
toda posterior representacin de lo vasco
tendr en sus imgenes un referente primordial (J. M. Gutirrez, in Macas 38). As
Gutirrez argues, Ama Lur made the image
of the baserritarra as the bastion of traditional values, independence and resistance
to foreign contamination readily available
to an audience whose regional identity had
been suppressed for the last thirty-two years.
As a result, that image sank deep into the
popular imaginary of the time. Therefore,
when the Basque Government began financing Basque films in the early 1980s as a key
element in the search for a regional identity
in post-Franco Spain, it was not surprising

14

Arizona Journal of Hispanic Cultural Studies

that a film about a baserritarra who resisted

the external forces threatening his ancestral
way of life, Tasio, became an instant hit.

Tasio or the indomitable

baserritarra
Tasio was one of the many films that took
advantage of the different subsidies offered
by the Basque and Spanish Governments
during the early 1980s. However, unlike
the majority of those films, Tasio quickly
became a success both with the critics and
the public.15 The movie narrates the life of
Tasio, a baserritarra from the hills of Urbasa
in Navarre from the 1920s to the late 1960s.
Tasio is the second son of a family that lives
from what the forest has to offer. From his
father and older brother, he learns to make
charcoal, hunt, fish and live in communion
with nature, following a traditional way of
life that is on the brink of extinction. During his life, Tasio will face the pressure of
a society that is changing rapidly, in which
the Guardia Civil and the forest ranger
represent the power of the establishment,
capitalism has a huge impact, and the ancestral customs kept alive by past generations
are being abandoned and replaced by new
and strange ones. Tasios life will therefore
be a struggle to maintain a lifestyle that is
bound to disappear under the steady path
of modernization represented in the film by
the city of Vitoria, to which the characters
refer as the capital.16
Written and directed by Navarran author
Montxo Armendariz, the film has been
deemed by the critics as a:
Sincero alegato en favor de la libertad
del hombre sencillo y de su ntima
comunin con la naturaleza, frente
a todos los elementos que tratan de

constreirla. Tasio deber afrontar

continuamente los poderes de la sociedad establecida que no toleran un
comportamiento que, manteniendo
tradiciones ancestrales, resulta muy
ajeno a sus modernas e interesadas
normas. (99)

Certainly, Tasios life is one of resistance,

freedom and self-affirmation, and is constantly depicted throughout the film as a
natural and traditional one. The opening
sequence of the film is quite revelatory in
this respect. In this sequence, a crane shot
situates the action in a thick forest while
an ancestral tune transports the audience
back to a time before memory existed. The
camera pans swiftly to the left and discovers a charcoal mound, or carbonera, and a
man who is loading a mule with vegetable
coal.17 When finished, the character checks
a trap he had placed between some bushes,
retrieves his prey and walks towards the
town while the camera pans over the
mountains that form the Valley of Urbasa.
The protagonist of the action in this case
is Tasios father, but the sequence is quite
effective in placing the baserritarra within
a natural frame, living freely and surviving
on what he can obtain from the forest that
surrounds him.18
The pattern of this sequence is frequently
repeated throughout the film, particularly
in the key moments of Tasios life. Thus, we
can observe this essential connection that
the camera establishes between the baserritarra and nature when Tasio takes care
of a carbonera or hunts by himself for the
first time, when he and his girlfriend Paulina have their first sexual encounter, when
they get married or more significantly, in
the very last moments of the film when the
audience is presented with a recreation of
the sequence that opened the film. Here, the

Gorka Bilbao Terreros

camera again pans over the same thick forest
and ultimately reveals an elder Tasio, now
nearing his sixties, working atop a carbonera
before the screen fades to black putting an
end to the story. Tasios way of life is not only
shown in natural terms, but is also inscribed
in a tradition that had been naturally passed
from father to son for centuries. He has been
raised following teachings and customs that
are drawn from nature itself, from a world
that existed long before the industrialization process took place in the Basque area
in the late nineteenth and early twentieth
centuries. Tasio learns from a young age
that his lifestyle prevails over any kind of
external education or indoctrination. It is
his fathers decision that he must not attend
school in order to learn the job that he will
perform for the rest of his life. However,
Tasio quickly internalizes this rebellious
attitude against the Otherness represented
by official institutions.
Tasio emphatically expresses his opposition to being introduced to customs and
ways different from his own. For example,
while young Tasio plays in the streets of his
small village with one of his friends, he runs
into the towns priest. The priest, furious
due to the fact that Tasio is neither attending church nor catechism regularly, grabs
the boy by his ears and threatens him with
darle una leccin y ensearle a ser obediente. In a symbolic first rebellion against
the established order, Tasio bites the hand of
the priest and runs away in a clear affirmation of his free and indomitable spirit while
the priest shrieks: Salvaje, andas como
las cabras por ah, sin ley ni concierto!
This will be the first instance of many in
which Tasio defies outside impositions and
enters into a confrontation with a way of
understanding the world that diametrically
opposes his own. Therefore, Tasio will find
the biggest menace to his way of life in

15
the Spanish Guardia Civil and the forest
ranger. These officials are the embodiment
of a series of man-made laws that are about
to dramatically change the shape of the forest and the traditional customs. As a part
of the overarching State apparatus, these
figures are always framed lurking on higher
ground, watching over Tasio, ready to come
down on him at the slightest sign of illegal
activity. The Guardia Civil and the ranger
limit Tasios wood quota to a minimum,
therefore jeopardizing his charcoal production. They also forbid poaching, one of the
main sources of both food and income for
Tasio and his family. The predator that used
to fill the mountains with snares to capture
foxes and wild boars has now become the
prey of a system that threatens, both literally and metaphorically, to hunt him and
his lifestyle down.
Tasio does not give in to external pressure, and continues to illegally hunt and
fish. When he receives a second offer to help
some city seoritos hunt deer in exchange for
good pay, he refuses the opportunity due
to the unfair nature of the task. Hunting
is the answer to a necessity, not a game to
entertain rich men from the capital. When
he is invited to join a cooperative, he balks,
stating that he has been able to survive on
his own terms and take care of his family
without having to give up the traditions
and customs passed to him by his father.
When asked by one of his friends and by
his own daughter to abandon the rural
environment and go to the city with them,
unsurprisingly, he also declines. The idealized representation of Tasio is evident in all
of these instances. Life in the country is not
easy, and even though he is offered chances
to progress economically by leaving behind
the only lifestyle he has ever known, Tasios
answer is always equally rotund: Ah est
el monte y puedo ganarme la vida yo solo

16

Arizona Journal of Hispanic Cultural Studies

sin tener que ir hacindoles la venia para

conseguir un trabajo.
Critics such as Angulo or Miguel have
argued that Tasio does not try to represent
rural life as an Arcadian ideal, but rather
shows the reality of a time in which a deep
change in society was about to take place:
[La pelcula] No es una bella estampa
ilustrativa de una Euskadi ancestral,
buclica y deseable [de la que]
hablaba El Mayorazgo de Basterretxe.
Es la crnica de la lucha de un individuo por preservar su independencia en una sociedad capitalista en la
que los medios de produccin [ . . . ]
estn siempre de parte del poderoso.
(Angulo 25)

Although El Mayorazgo de Basterretxe presents

a happy community in which economic
problems are not the main theme in the
film, and Tasio is very concerned with the
protagonists struggles to survive, it is hard
to argue that Tasio does not offer an idealized
perspective to its audience. The first third
of the film is a highly idealized depiction of
the early years of Tasios life. While it is true
that young Tasio has to confront the priest
on one occasion and his father mentions that
their economic situation is not the best, the
boy seems to enjoy a peaceful and happy
childhood. He has to work at home, but we
only see him helping his brother take their
mules to pasture, cheerfully running along
with his dogs, shooting rabbits in the hills.
Apart from these two brief moments, Tasio
appears to live in a town in which children are
encouraged to play in the streets with their
friends. They are allowed to attend the town
dance where he and his friends have enough
money to buy soda. They meet and dance
with beautiful girls from the neighboring
villages, and they engage in mischief in the

same manner one would expect from children their age. They do all this surrounded
by the beautiful, natural landscape of the hills
of Navarre, which at this point in the film
always appear to be green and sunny.19 This
is the environment in which Tasio grows up
and becomes an adult, and it is also the first
impression of rural life in the early years of
the twentieth century that the film depicts.
As the film progresses, Tasio abandons
the realm of childhoods carelessness to
enter adulthood. Now married and with a
daughter, he has to work harder than ever
to provide for his family. He fights the harsh
conditions of the hills of northern Navarre,
avoids the pressure of the Guardia Civil and
the forest ranger, and spends day after day in
the forest hunting, fishing and making charcoal. However, he makes it very clear at all
times that he has not been forced to live this
way. Quite to the contrary, Tasio enjoys his
lifestyle and does not change it when given
the opportunity. In earlier representations
of idealized rural Basque elements such as
El Mayorazgo de Basterretxe, the focus tended
to be placed on the rural society as a whole;
in Tasio, that idealization transfers slowly
but steadily to the figure of the baserritarra,
placing the responsibility to safeguard the
traditions and customs of past generations on
the individual rather than on society. Thus,
the baserritarra that Tasio portrays appears
to the audience as the epitome of the Basque
spirit; one of resistance and freedom.20
Despite his economic struggles and clashes
with the law imposed from outside, nothing seems to question Tasios morality and
behavior. The figure of the baserritarra seems
to remain unchallenged, emerging once again
as a combination of the highest ideals of the
traditional and authentic Basque society,
and reclaiming his position as an archetypal
figure in the imaginary of Basque people in
Post-Franco Spain.

Gorka Bilbao Terreros

Vacas and the search

for alternative models of identity
While Tasio depicts a highly idealized baserritarra that will defend his lifestyle and customs from external intrusion and manifest
himself as the representation of the perfect
Basque figure, Julio Medems Vacas explores
the possibilities of finding an alternative
paradigm of identity. Medem presents the
audience with two rival and neighboring
Basque families; a very traditional one
the Mendilucesand one whose men
seem to slightly deviate from the ideals of
traditional Basquenessthe Irigibels. As
seen in Tasio, the time frame in Vacas spans
various decades while presenting us with a
rural society threatened by external forces
and yet affirming its identity against those
invading elements.
Nevertheless, the tension and struggles suffered by the baserritarras are due not
solely to external factors, but also to internal
ones. Violence is perpetrated both from
withouti.e. from the battles taking place
during the Carlist and Civil warsand
from within, with the rivalry between the
two families being a main point of tension
throughout the film. Both families face these
tensions in quite different ways. The men
in the Mendiluce family fight with honor,
defending their country and dying for it,
embracing traditional societal and familial
roles. On the surface, the Irigibel men do
the opposite, challenging the archetype of
the baserritarra and abandoning their homeland on two occasions to flee from its heavy
burden. Medem, however, problematizes
this distinction through the use of repetition and recurrences, with the end of the
film pointing more toward the notion of
an eternal return to a traditional paradigm
than to the possibility of change.

17
As seen in Tasio, Vacas presents its audience with an apparently ideal rural setting
in which the figure of the baserritarra takes
center stage. The opening sequence of the
film is reminiscent of the final shot in Tasio.
In that closing scene, the main character was
last seen standing atop of a carbonera in the
middle of the forest and holding a hoe over
his head. Vacas opens with a strikingly similar
figure; that of Manuel Irigibel standing atop a
log in the middle of the forest, holding an axe
over his head. However, the camera work in
Vacas very quickly sets it apart. While in Tasio
the character is framed in a long shot at eye
level that gives the impression of a costumbrist painting, Medem chooses to capture
Manuel in medium and close-up shots with
very high or very low angles, metaphorically
and literally pointing to his intentions to look
at the figure of the baserritarra from different
perspectives in order to address the possibility
of new identitary paradigms.
Natural landscapes, particularly the
forest, act both as a scenic backdrop for the
action to develop and as a marker of the
natural relationship of the baserritarra with
his immediate environment.21 Thus, woodcutting competitions, sexual encounters,
family and childrens games all take place
within the limits of the forest, and are always encoded in natural terms. However,
throughout the film two elements challenge
the idealistic conception of the forest. On
the one hand, the camera work moves from
long shots of beautiful mountains and trees
to extreme close-ups of the ground in which
the audience is shown detailssuch as mushrooms, grass blades, insects and lizardsthat
otherwise would be rendered invisible. As
seen in the opening shots of Manuel, the film
seems to be pointing at the necessity to show
reality in a new light and in detail, paving
the way for the exploration of alternatives to
traditional structures.

18

Arizona Journal of Hispanic Cultural Studies

On the other hand, the bucolic representation of the scenery is suddenly disrupted by the introduction of an eerie element,
a tree stump with a deep hole that occupies
the center of the forest and toward which
all characters tend to gravitate. This sort of
totem, to which the narration keeps returning and that is fed with animal sacrifices by
different characters, has been deemed by
the critics as a metaphorical point of origin
or foundation.22 This reading favors the
identification of the stump with a source
of traditional Basqueness that both attracts
and repels the characters of the film. This
is particularly true of Peru, who repeatedly
escapes from the attraction of the tree only
to be pulled toward it againa subject to
which we shall return later.
While the on-screen representation of
the forest and the camera work already point
toward a different approach to Basqueness
than that of Tasio, the juxtaposition of the
Mendiluces with the Irigibels is the key element to understanding the films search for
a new model of identity. Both Luis MartnEstudillo and Jo Evans (Foundational
Myths) note that while the Mendiluces
represent an atavistic take on Basque identity, the Irigibels are a more dynamic and
modern one. This seems to be the case with
Juan Mendiluce and Ignacio Irigibel. Juan
follows the example of his father, the Carlist
hero fallen in battle, and acts according to
traditional patterns; he stays and protects his
land in times of war, has a clannish perspective on the familial unit and a marked sense
of honor and respect for traditions. Alternatively, Ignacio is presented as an ambivalent
character. On the surface, he is the perfect
baserritarra; he takes care of the animals, is
a champion aizkolari and lives in a baserri
with his father, wife, and three daughters.
However, he also begins to introduce extraneous elements into this seemingly perfect

ecosystem. With the prizes from the several

wood-cutting contests he wins, he first buys
a Dutch cow and shortly afterward a foreign
car, both commodities from outside of his
immediate environment.
This exploration of boundaries is
followed by a major transgression of the
traditional codes. Ignacio falls in love with
Juans sister, Catalina. Despite being married to Madalen, he has a child, Peru, with
Catalina. The lovers continue their affair for
over ten years living in different baserriak or
caseros with their respective families, with
Peru being accepted as a member of both
clans and enjoying the freedom to move
between them. Nevertheless, this violation
of the social conventions has severe consequences that eventually force the couple
to leave the Basque Country and move to
America.
Ignacio and Catalinas extramarital affair has a great impact on Juans traditional
understanding of the family, and he eventually decides to set things back in order on
his own terms. After Catalina returns to
the family baserri from one of her furtive
night encounters with Ignacio, Juan tries
to get into bed with her. By lying with his
sister, Juan tries to symbolically occupy
the vacant position of a father figure for
his bastard nephew Peru and of a husband
for Catalina, thus restoring a logical order
from his perspective. In a metaphorical
but also practical manner, Juan is looking
for the perpetuation of his essence and
lineage, and ultimately for the survival of
his lifestyle. Therefore, it does not come as
a surprise that after Catalina rejects him
and threatens him with running away,
Juan reacts violently and tries to choke
her while screaming: no voy a matarte,
soy tu hermano, no quiero haceros dao.
The disparity between Juans words and
his actions reflects the characters internal

Gorka Bilbao Terreros

struggle. On the one side, he is linked to
Catalina by fraternal love. On the other, he
is the representative of a tradition that cannot accept the existence of such a disruptive
element to the status quo. It is only thanks
to Perus cries that Juan loosens his grip and
Catalina can escape her brothers attack.
After this violent attack, Ignacio, Catalina
and Peru leave their families behind and flee
to America. Ignacio, who until that moment had been trying to move away from
the archetypal concept of the baserritarra,
has to escape a society in which the weight
of violence and tradition does not allow for
alternative ways of life. In the same way,
Ignacios father had to escape the battlefront forty years prior, recognizing it was
impossible to modify paradigms of identity
that had prevailed for centuries. Therefore,
since out-of-the-norm behavioral patterns
like Ignacios are deemed inappropriate
and removed from the homeland, Juans
conservative and reactionary approach to
life remains the only viable alternative for
the preservation of Basque society.
The impossibility of finding alternative paradigms to that of the traditional
baserritarra is further stressed with the
character of Peru. He is the son of Ignacio
Irigibel and Catalina Mendiluce, a hybrid
of the traditional and modern models
of Basqueness, who lives in the Basque
Country for ten years and then migrates to
America with his parents. The adult Peru
is not a baserritarra in any sense of the
wordhe has been educated in American
schools, speaks fluent English, is married
to an American woman, and dresses and
behaves as a city-dweller. However, his
personal relationship with the tree stump
and the fact that he is played by the same
actor who portrayed his grandfather and his
father, hint toward a tendency to perpetuate
the same conduct and behavior.23

19
Since before even his birth Peru has
been visually associated with the tree stump
that, as previously mentioned, represents the
origins or foundations of traditional Basqueness. Ignacio and Catalinas first sexual
encounter, in which Perus conception is
suggested, takes place deep in the forest.
While the couple is lying on the grass, a
tracking camera placed at ground level scans
their bodies from head to toe and ends the
sequence by showing a close-up take of the
tree stump, implying a direct relationship
between Perus conception and the tree.
As a child, Peru visits the stump on different occasions, but his most dramatic visit
occurs shortly after Juan attempts to sleep
with Catalina. Peru wakes up one morning
and tries to find his mother. After searching
around the house, he starts suspecting that
Juan has killed her and confronts him. He
abandons the family baserri screaming Juan
ha matado a mi madre. Juan runs after him
and they end up in front of the tree stump
that is covered in the blood of a dead cow.
In one quick movement, Juan grabs Peru
and tries to put him into the stumps hole
while he yells Mira, la ves? Ella te est esperando. In this intense scene, Juan points
out the fact that the stump, the figurative
origin of Basqueness, has metaphorically
devoured Perus mother and is ready to
absorb Peru himself. It is only thanks to
the intervention of Cristina, Manuel and
Ilegorri that Peru can escape his uncle and
the future that the foundational tree has in
store for him.
Although Peru does indeed flee to
America with his parents, moving away
from his homeland and his customs, his
relationship with the stump is far from over.
In 1936, Peru returns to the Basque Country as a war photographer for an American
newspaper. He meets with Cristina again,
and together they walk the forest with the

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Arizona Journal of Hispanic Cultural Studies

Republican troops, taking photographs

of the battle that develops around them.
Peru and Cristina are separated when he is
captured by the National troops and taken
before a firing squad. Peru is saved from a
certain death by his old uncle Juan, who
identifies his nephew as the grandson of
two heroic Carlist fighters. Peru quickly
labels himself as a Carlist too, inadvertently
recognizing that the only way to survive is
to adhere to the established formulations
of Basque identity. After avoiding execution, Peru wanders into the forest and finds
Cristina, who is waiting for him next to the
tree stump. As the couple leave together
with the intention of eloping to France in
order to escape the war and the oppressive
environment, the camera pans away from
them and zooms into the trees black hole,
putting an end to the film. As multiple critics have noted:
it is not certain that they [Ignacio
and Cristina] will reach France []
because the final zoom and fade to
black inside the hollow tree stump
suggests they will be pulled back,
metaphorically, to their site of origin. (Evans, Foundational Myths
124)24

Peru tries to move away from the foundational tree and the traditional behavioral
patterns associated with it by moving first to
America, and later to France. However, its
attraction is too strong for him to break free,
and the key moments of his life continue
to revolve around that sacred place. Thus,
the impossibility of establishing a viable
alternative identity within the borders of
the Basque Country is aggravated by the
improbability of creating one outside those
borders as wellBasque identity seems
confined to a set pattern of parameters

from which either escape or rebellion seem

impossible.
Perus figurative rejection of traditional clichs is not only problematized by
his recurring identification with the tree
stumpthat is, his relationship with Cristina also suggests an eternal recurrence and a
return to the point of origin. Peru is repeating both his fathers and his uncles behavior
by eloping with a woman from the other
baserri and by trying to start an endogamic
and incestuous relationship with his half
sister, Cristina. By and large, audiences who
first viewed the film saw Juans attempt to
lie in bed with his sister in horror, censuring
his conduct on various levels. Not only was
it a non-consensual relationship, but it was
also a taboo sexual encounter of kinship.
Thirty years later in the diegesis, the same
audience will observe the bond between
Peru and Cristina from a different perspective. Although this relationship is mutually
accepted, it will have the same incestuous
features as Juans, therefore reinforcing the
perpetuation of the original essence and
lineage, and ultimately the survival of its
lifestyle. Not only is Peru unable to escape
from the attraction of the tree stump, but
he also appears to be bound to repeat his
ancestors actions, rendering all attempts to
find a new behavioral pattern useless.
Vacas directly addresses the necessity
to create new forms of Basque identity that
depart from the traditional take of the baserritarra, while at the same time recognizing
how difficult it can be to break free from a
paradigm so strongly ingrained in the collective consciousness. In a society in which the
violent actions of the Other are fundamental
elements in the maintenance of ones identity, Medems film presents and explores two
methods of survival: the explicit acceptance
of traditional forms of identity, as seen in
Carmelo and Juan Mendiluce, and the exile

Gorka Bilbao Terreros

from the country, as Juan and Peru illustrate.
However, a deeper scrutiny of this last option challenges its viability. Through the use
of one actor to play all of the Irigibel men,
the repetition of behaviors, customs and
violent backdrops, as well as the recurring
presence of the foundational tree stump,
Medem seems to indicate that the imprint
of tradition in the Basque imaginary is far
too deep. As Joseba Zulaika argues:
The past thus is perceived not as
something construed by disciplinary knowledge [] but as an almost
sacred legacy, an ineradicable trace
to which the individual must surrender. (142)

Although the old paradigm of Basqueness is

clearly challenged throughout the film and
its darker side is brought to our attention,
the traditional baserritarra emerges yet again
as the iconic and representative identitary
form of a Basque society trapped between
their own reality and that imposed from
without.

Ander or the change that came

from within
In both Tasio and Vacas, we have observed
that conflict with the Other has had a pivotal
influence on the maintenance of traditional
identitary constructions. This Other is what
Jo Evans has identified using Lacanian
terminology as a construct that tends to
denote a relationship between the subject
and the symbolic order beyond the reach of
the Imaginary and that in her opinion, is
circumscribed to notions such as nationality, religion and myth (La Madre Muerta
176). The Other in these films has been
acknowledged as an external menacing force
that opposes and threatens the status quo,

21
particularly the mythical concept of national
identity. As a result, we have observed how
the baserritarra, the iconic representation of
that national identity, has adopted a position of resistance to change, exorcizing all
foreign influence. In her article, Evans also
identifies the presence of the othernow
without a capital othat seems to refer
to a form of reflection of, and projection
from, the subject (176). This other is not
a foreign element that is being forced upon
the subject by external forces, but rather an
element whose origin can be traced back to
the very subject by which it is othered. For
the purposes of this article, the threat of the
other does not reside in the violent imposition or subduction of the subjects markers
of identity, but in the simple recognition
and exposition of the alternatives already
present within the original subject. Thus,
after the disappearance of the conflictive
Other, the other in Ander will succeed in
facilitating the modification of the monolithic concept of the baserritarra without
compromising its validity as an icon of
Basque identity.
Ander narrates the story of a contemporary baserritarra by the same name who
lives in a baserri with his sister and their
very old-fashioned mother, taking care of
the daily routine of the farm and working
in a bicycle factory in Durango. A month
before his sisters wedding, Ander breaks
his leg and is taken to the hospital by his
best friend Peio, a traditional baserritarra
who loves indulging in alcohol and women,
particularly Reme, the towns prostitute.
Due to his injury and despite his mothers
opposition to bringing a foreigner in their
family circle, Ander decides to hire Jos, a
Peruvian immigrant, to help with the duties
in the baserri. The men develop a friendship
that eventually reaches its climax when they
engage in sexual intercourse in a bathroom

22

Arizona Journal of Hispanic Cultural Studies

while celebrating Arantxas wedding. Ander

immediately rejects Jos and avoids his
presence until a few days later, when his
mother dies from a heart condition. From
that moment, Anders relationship with Jos
will be one of love and hate, acceptance and
rejection. While Jos accepts his feelings
for Ander, Ander will not be able to fully
come to terms with his own sexuality until
he confronts Peios overtly male chauvinistic attitudes and finds a substitute and
alternative maternal figure in Reme. It is
only after removing the weight of tradition
represented by his mother and Peio that
Ander is able to become part of a newly
configured family formed by Jos, Reme,
her son, and himself.
When first approaching the film, it
is easy to recognize most of the markers
of Basqueness we have already observed in
Tasio and Vacas. The natural and beautiful
landscapes of the Biscayan valleys act as an
ideal and bucolic backdrop for Anders life.
He is a baserritarra who takes care of the
cattle and cultivates the land while living
in the family baserri, using the resources
around him in his daily life. While at the
table, he and his family eat the produce
he grows following a strict patriarchal
order; the mother first serves Ander, then
herself and finally passes the serving spoon
to Arantxa for her to help herself to food.
Ander also works in a factory making bicycles. However, he always appears isolated,
uncomfortable and unmotivated while
there. The audience is presented with this
reality only once at the beginning of the
film, which helps to further distance the
character from this job. Furthermore, in his
conversations with his friend Peio and his
future brother in law Iaki, Ander seems to
adopt a classic chauvinist attitude, indulging in and boasting about the same carnal
pleasures that his friends enjoy and consider

usual for men their age.

Upon taking a closer look, however,
some of Anders depictions, behaviors and
customs start to raise the question of his
adherence to a classic baserritarra role. His
soft spot for listening to jazz music while
taking care of the cattle, his interest in technological advances, particularly the effect
of the millennium bug on his digital alarm
clock, and his long, deep glances at Jos all
point toward an alternative, hidden reality.
Contrary to Tasio and Vacas, the introduction of the baserritarra in this film does not
take place in his usual environmentnature. Instead, the first sequence shows a
still image of the baserri in the dark before
dawn, and immediately moves to Anders
room, where he is waiting in bed for the
alarm clock to go off. The close and medium
shots used to present Ander to the audience are the norm for any situation filmed
inside the house. These, together with the
shadowy and gloomy setting of the room
and the building in general, set the tone for
an oppressive and overbearing atmosphere
that will greatly contrast with the sunny
and inviting exteriors found in the film.
Ander seems full of joy when in contact
with nature, but depressed when inside
the baserri, the cornerstone of traditional
Basque families and a space dominated by
his elderly and orthodox mother.
The suspicion that Ander is butching up or cowboying upto use Gerard
Wrights terminology25 (in Bell 557)in
order to fit into a society with firmly established and preconceived ideas about what
a real baserritarra must be is confirmed
when he and Jos engage in sex during
Arantxas wedding. This encounter is the
natural culmination of a relationship that
had been growing more intimate each day
due to the convalescent Anders need for
Joss help in most of his daily tasks. Jos

Gorka Bilbao Terreros

assisted Ander when he needed to get up
or go to bed, dress or undress, and even
to urinate. Ander is not modest during
these tasks and thoroughly enjoys them on
many occasions. However, Ander reacts to
their affair by vomiting first, and then by
demanding that Jos get away from him.
After Jos leaves, he observes his own face
in the mirror while covering half of it with
one hand. Ander realizes that the surfacing
of his hidden half will have unexpected
and possibly negative consequences. He is
part of a society in which the journey from
a dominant to a subordinate masculinity26
does not comply with the preconceived
ideas of what a baserritarra is and has been,
and therefore Anders environment will not
easily accept it.27 As with Carmelo, Ignacio
and Peru in Vacas, any attempt to change
is going to be met with resistance by those
who represent the traditional realm. Ander
will not have to face the pressure and violence of an external agent trying to change
his world as the baserritarrak in Tasio and
Vacas did, but he will be asked to reassert
his identity by his reactionary mother and
his friend Peio.
A couple of days after the wedding,
and still not able to look his mother in the
eye, Ander tries to reaffirm his masculinity.
He casually walks towards Jos and makes
some small talk with him. He then proposes
they go together to Reme and have sex
with her, an offer which Jos declines. Ander forces Jos to take him to Reme since
he cannot drive due to his broken leg, and
all three of them end up in a motel. Ander
unsuccessfully tries to have sex with Reme
and following this impotence, falls from
bed. Hearing his cries of pain, Jos enters
the room and helps him get back on the
bed, after which Ander spits in his face
and bursts into tears. Ander has realized
that there is no way back for him and that

23
the traditional world in which he lived is
disintegrating. Once at home, while being
helped to undress, Ander takes Joss hands
and places them in his crotch, actively acknowledging for the first time his attraction
towards the young man. While nothing else
happens that night, this encounter will have
an immediate and ill-fated consequence.
Anders acknowledgement of his sexuality
directly flies in the face of the traditional
organization of Basque rural society, and
this incompatibility requires a sacrifice on
one of their parts. Hence, when he gets up
the next morning, Anders mother suffers a
heart attack and is taken to the hospital in
critical condition. The symbolism becomes
clear not only to the audience, but to Ander
himself. Ander and his sexuality deconstruct
the classic paradigm of the baserritarra while
at the same time driving a fatal blow into
the metaphorical heart of the reactionary
and old-fashioned Basque society. That is
why when his sister arrives at the hospital,
Ander only manages to say nire kulpie izan
da [it was my fault]. The Other has been
eliminated from the equation so that the
other, the projection of the subject itself
and not the imposition of a third party,
can live on.
With his mother out of the picture,
Ander only needs to confront his friend
Peio to defeat all traces of the traditional
and exclusive paradigm of identity. Contrary to the clash between Juan Mendiluce
and Ignacio Irigibel, which resulted in the
exclusion of the one who did not comply
with the accepted forms of identity from the
region, that between Ander and Peio sees the
newly created baserritarra hold his ground.
Ander is no longer restrained by the social
superstructure represented by his mother,28
and is now free from any kind of external
force that would threaten the Basque imaginary and would require him to take a more

24

Arizona Journal of Hispanic Cultural Studies

traditional stance. As a result, Ander finds

the strength to metaphorically fight Peio and
therefore exorcize any restrictive element
that could prevent him from attaining his
identitary goals. The new baserritarra still
lives in the baserri in communion with nature, he works the land and takes care of the
cattle, but his freedom and way of life will
now be reasserted, not against the menacing
Other, but with the alternative other. Thus,
he shares his bed with another man and ends
up embracing a divorced prostitute as a valid
alternative representation of motherhood.
To Anders initial surprise, his digital alarm
clock continues working into the new millennium, a symbol of how the baserritarra
remains a prevalent and valid paradigm of
identity for the Basque society of a new era.
The rain that falls over the baserri in the closing sequence of the film seems to indicate
that a new and fresh start lies ahead.
According to Rob Stone and Helen
Jones, mythical representations of gender
in Basque cinema
inspired as well as inhibited Basques
to strive masochistically after unattainable perfections []. With no
decentering of these signs, there was
no reworking of character types, no
disaggregation of totalizing categories
and no possible individuality in terms
of gender and sexuality. (1)

In Tasio, we found a character that, as a reaction to a threatening Other, tried to achieve

the perfection of the archetypical baserritarra
and therefore, contributed to the persistence
of the myth. In Vacas, Manuel, Ignacio and
Peru fail to either challenge or conform to
the myth, and must flee the country emphasizing that only the traditional masculine
figure is capable of enduring in Basque
society. Films like Vacas and Tasio illustrate

the irony that illusions of the Basque

Country as a progressive, independent nation are based on allusions to
a mythic race, nation and masculinity that have fuelled the delusions
of nationalist fervor that inhibit the
nations progress in the real world.
(Stone 40)

Ander, however, challenges these allusions

not by reacting against an external agent,
but through self-reflection. The transformation of the Basque icon will not happen as a
result of the pressure applied by an external
Other against which the baserritarra defines
himself. Rather, that change will come
from a series of mechanisms set in motion
by the pacific and unimposing irruption
of the other that the baserritarra ultimately
identifies as his own. It is due to this, to the
disappearance of the violent confrontation
with the Other and its way of life, that the
status quo and the traditional representation
of identity can be altered and internalized,
codified yet again as natural and therefore
accepted and assimilated by the regional
identitary discourse.
Anders courageous efforts not only
reflect the progress of society as a whole,
but they also allow the development of the
mythical figures associated with it. Without
these efforts, the fossilized conventions of
traditional Basque representations would
inevitably crumble and disappear under the
weight of social advances. Contrary to the
process that took place in Basque literature,
the cinematic baserritarra has not been
deemed an outdated relic from ancestral
times in an attempt to displace him from
his central position in Basque imaginary. Instead, Basque cinema has tried to rediscover
and modernize the myth, ultimately legitimizing its validity as a recognizable archetype
for a modern Basque society. Moreover, it
is possible to argue that the baserritarras

Gorka Bilbao Terreros

three decade long trip from Tasio to Ander
is quite an appropriate model for Basque
cinema as a medium. In the same vein that
the baserritarra ceases to define himself in
relation to external agents or threatening
Others, so must Basque cinema find its own
identity within itselfbeyond relatively
superficial aspects such as location, budget,
actors birthplaces, or even languageand
strive for a goal that transcends nationalistic,
territorial or political realms. Instead of being defined in relation or opposition to its
Spanish, French or European counterparts,
it must strive to find its essence in the ability to simultaneously place itself within
and beyond Basque traditional patterns,
negotiating the complex dynamics between
the customary models of understanding
Basqueness and the necessity of modern
Basque society to appropriate, modernize
and internalize those models.

Notes
Throughout this text, I will use the term
baserritarra in its broadest sense. Therefore, a
baserritarra will be a person who lives in the
countryside, works the land, takes care of the
cattle, works with wood, makes charcoal, hunts
and/or fishes. The baserritarrak, thus, will be the
men and women whose livelihoods are made
primarily in a rural environment, although in
recent times, it is possible to use the term to refer
to those who perform these tasks and supplement
them with other sources of income.
2
Joseba Macas agrees with Davies and argues that in these Jornadas and the subsequent:
se plantearn las distintas lneas de debate
respecto a la delimitacin del concepto de cine
vasco, una controversia absolutamente marcada
por la ideologizacin de la poca, la confusin
del objeto real y los sectarismos tan tristemente
consustanciales a la esfera de lo poltico (39).
To this respect, see also Acerca de la existencia
de un cine vasco actual (Sojo Gil Acerca de la

25
existencia de un cine vasco actual 132).
3
For a more detailed breakdown of the different subsidies offered by Basque and Spanish
Institutions, see Cine vasco: Un debate cerrado? (Macas, 40-41) or El cine vasco en la
dcada de los ochenta: Auge y cada (Roldn
Larreta 427-429).
4
See Roldn Larretas El cine de Euskadi
en los noventa (79).
5
See Rodrguezs Mundos en conflicto:
Aproximaciones al cine vasco de los 90 or
Roldn Larretas texts about Basque cinema (El
cine de Euskadi en los noventa, El cine del
Pas Vasco, El cine vasco en la dcada de los
ochenta) where they discuss the impossibility
of a unique definition of Basque cinema capable
of embracing the totality of opinions about and
approaches to the topic.
6
Both Mart-Olivella (Mikel/Ander/Tasio
99) and Macas strongly argue that: Partamos de
una hiptesis central: hoy como ayer, el cine vasco
sigue sin existir (46). Cinema historian Sojo Gil
agrees with such an argument, although he tries
to offer an alternative approach, if intricate and
extremely broad, to what could be understood
as Basque cinema:

Hablar hoy da de cine vasco es

hablar de algo que no existe
Por cine vasco se podra entender
aquellos productos realizados por
directores nacidos o hechos en el Pas
Vasco, dentro de una serie de temas
relacionados o no con el Pas Vasco
pero bsicamente ambientados en los
lmites de Euskal Herria o en otros
lugares del mundo pero mostrndose
las inquietudes de los protagonistas
siempre que stos representen a ciudadanos vascos. (Acerca de la existencia de un cine vasco actual 133)
7

For more on the topic see Jordan and

Morgan-Tamosunass Contemporary Spanish
Cinema, Talens and Zunzuneguis Modes of
Representation in Spanish Cinema, Gabilondos
Uncanny Identity: Violence, Gaze and Desire
or Daviess Woman and Home.

26

Arizona Journal of Hispanic Cultural Studies

8

While the Comunidad Autnoma de Navarra is considered by some Basquesparticularly

nationalistsas part of the historical territory of
Euskal Herria or Basque Country, many citizens
of Navarre reject this idea. However, Montxo
Armendariz has openly identified himself as a
Basque and has been part of different Basque
associations, such as the Movimiento Comunista
de Euskadi or the Asociacin de Cineastas Vascos.
For more on this, see Secretos de la elocuencia:
El cine de Montxo Armendariz (Angulo et al.).
9
Castn is the founder of Zinegoak, the
International Gay, Lesbian and Transex Film
and Performing Arts Festival of Bilbao. He also
directed and organized the first eight editions of
the festival between 2003 and 2011 (Larrauri).
10
The complete name of the novel is El
doctor Peru Abarca, catedrtico de la lengua bascongada en la Universidad de Basarte, o Dilogos
entre un rstico solitario bascongado y un barbero
callejero llamado Maisu Juan.
11
See Juaristi.
12
See Douglass and Bilbao (128).
13
Santos Zunzunegui goes as far as identifying the Partido Nacionalista Vasco as the main
force endorsing this film as an expression of
Basque uniqueness and ideals, and as a vehicle
to promote them throughout Europe:
En 1933 se iba a realizar un film que
iba a convertirse en un intento nico
de poner en pie una cinematografa
directamente ligada a la expresin de
las ideas nacionalistas, en concreto,
a las del Partido Nacionalista Vasco.
El origen del film arranc de manera
imprevista y con motivo de la celebracin del Aberri Eguna que iba a
tener lugar en San Sebastin el 16 de
abril bajo el lema Euzkadi-Europa.
(in Roldn Larreta, El cine vasco en
la dcada de los ochenta 439)
14

According to Jos Mara Unzan, for

the documentary to be given permission to be
filmed, three rules had to be obeyed: The word
Spain had to be pronounced at least three

times in the film, Picassos Guernica could not

appear in the footage (and therefore had to be
eliminated from the original edition), and the
final sequence in which the Gernikako arbola
(tree of Guernica) was the main focus had to
be re-shot during summer time for the tree to
be filmed while blooming (Zunzunegui 235).
15
See Miguel Martnezs Ilusin y realidad:
La aventura del cine vasco en los aos ochenta.
16
It is quite significant that the characters
refer to Vitoria as the capital, Vitoria being
the capital of Basque Country. The capital
of Navarre is and was at the time Pamplona.
Whether this represents the reality of the time
in the rural areas of Navarre bordering with the
Basque province of Alava, or whether it is a result
of Montxo Armendrizs self-identification as a
Basque despite being born and raised in Navarre
(DLugo 194), what seems to be clear is that the
characters recognize themselves as part of the
Basque territory.
17
A charcoal mound is a self-cooking charcoal oven made with wood, mud and straw. This
technique had been used in northern Spain since
the XII century, at least (See Angulo et al. 197).
18
It is worth noting the relationship with
nature is important for these characters. After
Tasio takes two baby birds from a nest, his father reminds him that: una cosa es cazar y otra
espiezar los nidos. Nunca cojis ms de lo que
es bien, que as siempre habr caza.
19
As a matter of fact, rain falls only once
throughout the film, which is a very low amount
taking into consideration that the estimated
average in the region from the beginning of the
century to 1986 was one hundred and eighty
days per year (Angulo et al. 25). Significantly,
rain is only present when Tasio tells his father
that Paulina is pregnant and that he is going to
marry her, a melodramatic moment that marks
Tasios conscious acceptance of adult life and the
change that this brings in terms of the diegesis.
20
In his article Mikel/Ander/Tasio: Narrative Castings and Othering Masculinities in
Basque Cinema, Jaume Mart-Olivella studies
representations of masculinity in Basque cinema
and the key role that casting has in those repre-

Gorka Bilbao Terreros

sentations. Therefore, he not only describes Tasio
as an emblem of the aforementioned idealized
sense of Basque masculinity (86), but he also
argues that the actor Patxi Bisquert occupies
both sides of the Basque nationalist ideal: the
political gudari (warrior) and the safekeeper of
the Basque rural world (85).
21
See Angulo et al. (23-24), Rodrguez,
Gabilondo, Richardson, and Martn-Estudillo
for detailed studies about the idealization of
the landscapes and their relationship with the
characters.
22
See Gabilondo, Stone (Chapter 3
The Other Side of the Hole: Vacas), Evans
(Foundational Myths) and Santaolalla (in
Richardson).
23
In his book Julio Medem, Rob Stone
argues that: the archetypal character played by
[Carmelo] Gmez is reincarnated three times as
a victim of his revolving stagnation (44).
24
In this regard, see also Santaolalla, Gabilondo, Richardson and Martn-Estudillo.
25
After conducting several interviews with
homosexual men who were born and raised
in the American West and mid-West, Gerard
Wright studied male homosexuality in rural
spaces in the USA, concluding that: To be gay
in Western states such as Colorado, Wyoming,
Nebraska and Montana is to know when to
butch up or cowboy up (in Bell 557).
26
Here, I am using R.W. Connells division
of masculinities (dominant, complicit, marginalized and subordinate) in which dominant
masculinity refers to the idealized and socially
expected ways of being malewhich in Western
nations emphasizes competition, aggressiveness
and heterosexuality, and in which subordinate masculinity refers to those that are seen
as denigrated forms of masculinity, or simply
are not viewed by the dominant forms as being
legitimately what men do (in Bell 557).
27
Not only is Ander challenging the socially accepted notions of masculinity, but he
is also challenging the ideal of the pure Basque
society by engaging in an interracial sexual
relationship.

27
For the purpose of this article and in
the interest of space, the figure of Anders
conservative mother has been integrated in the
larger superstructure of the threatening Other.
However, a number of critics have explored in
detail the role of motherhood, and femininity
in general in the perpetuation of archetypal
masculine figures in Basque Cinema. For that
see Mart-Olivella ((M)Otherly Monsters),
Stone & Jones (Mapping the Gendered Space
of the Basque Country), Davies (Women and
Home), and Evans (Foundational Myths).
28

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