The Last Circus (2010)

The Last Circus is a horrible movie. To note, this is not being written by anyone that finds violence abhorring or is shocked by sex or even lacks the creative ineptitude to understand deeply rooted symbolism; but instead this is being said by a film watcher who witnessed a mismatched blend of creative and visuals in a film that should (nay, needed) to have been worthier of the Silver Lion at the Venice Film Festival. There is no denying that Alex de la Inglesia is a notable filmmaker, but The Last Circus is not the director’s tipping hat. From the moment our sad clown (Javier) hears an unfunny joke by the supposed “happy” clown (Sergio), The Last Circus (or should we all say The Ballad of the Sad Trumpet [cough]) transformed from shocking visual cinema to a mismanaged company heading straight toward the red. This felt like a project that was too big, too flashy, to nondescript to create a compelling slice of cinema. Even as we open; the sound of the resistance, the grumblings of the circus, the fear of the children, the chaos of battle; seem to be forgotten the moment Inglesia has the opportunity to demonstrate his penchant for blood, special effects, large-breasted women, and the absurd. The Last Circus bases its watch-ability on the fact that each scene attempts to be more impressive than the next; which in theory sounds powerful, but when it adds nothing to the crux of a story – it ends up being merely extra screams in an inevitable car crash. Why run into the trailer when a sadistic boyfriend is on your trail? Logic. The Last Circus laughs in the face of logic. There is no “why”, or “what”, or “how”, or anything connecting one scene to the next. An example of this would be the introduction late in the film of a memory that haunts Javier’s life (see trumpet). Where was this earlier in our development? If this is needed to challenge our character, than challenge; do not add garbage to an otherwise already cluttered scene. Throwing information into our character’s social well-being this late in the film muddies the impact on the ultimate finale. As our character ascends the cross in pursuit of his woman, does that particular scene carry relevance to anything? If your answer is no, the point is made. With no character development, no preemptive childhood scene, nothing tying us back to the central focus of this film - Inglesia pushes us head-first into the violence, into the lacking characters, and into a story that builds upon nothing, and shatters into oblivion.

On a side note, it is understandable, and respectable, that everything placed within this film is to represent a portion of history surrounding the Spanish Civil War (…it still doesn’t make this a great film). When viewed amongst more educated friends, they brought to the conversation the lineage of truth Inglesia planted within this mess. While they appreciated the history (specifically, the scenes involving Javier chasing pheasants for the General – representative of Spain’s class structure at this time), there was not enough hints of this throughout the film. Grass fed chickens we are not, but for those less impressed by the history of Spain there needed to still be a good movie among the rubble to rest your eyes upon.

In the end, The Last Circus' blend between the real and fantasy, the swirl of historical and metaphoric, and the shock of violence and destruction hit no mark.  It was a decent try, but Inglesia could not carry the weight of this film.  It was too much in a less than two hour performance.  Ideas implanted at the last moment forced this humble viewer to witness the sloppiness of this movie, and realize that Inglesia is a great director, but without his typical writing partner, Jorge Guerricaechevarría, the point fell flat.  Failing on potential, the Tarantino-esque violence could only carry him so far, and the rest was utter embarassment.  

I cannot write anything more about this movie.