Three generations of Solé have worked at a prosperous peach orchard, but when the landowner dies and the land passes to his son, the gentlemen’s agreement made between Rogelio Solé (Josep Abad) and the recently deceased head of the Pinyol family is dissolved.  Quimet Solé (Jordi Pujol Dolcet) and his son Roger (Albert Bosch) are allowed to finish the harvest, but at the end of the summer, the family must vacate as the land is set to be developed into a solar farm.  With an uncertain future ahead of them, tensions are high under the summer sun as the Solé family begins to accept the end of this long chapter of their shared history. 

Premiering at Berlinale where it won the Golden Bear, Alcarràs is the impressive sophomore feature from writer/director Carla Simón.  The film continued to gather acclaim across the European festival circuit, eventually becoming Spain’s submission for Best International Feature Film at the 95th Academy Awards.  While it missed out on making the shortlist, the film was picked up for state-side distribution by Mubi.  The 120-minute film features an ensemble of first-time actors who all bring an incredible naturalness in front of the camera; a testament to Simón’s direction as much as their own talent. 

Breaking open the story behind Alcarràs, drawing its name from the small town on the western border of the Catalonian region of Spain where it is set, is both incredibly simple and difficult at the same time.  It is a slice-of-life story about a family facing their doom, a fate which is established in the opening scenes when Rogelio is unable to produce a signed contract for the land because he came into stewardship over it through a handshake.  It is not a treasure hunt of the family trying to find the paperwork because it very plainly does not exist, nor is it a film that dabbles in the mystery of how Rogelio came about the farm; he will go on to tell a story that we understand has been retold hundreds if not thousands of times of how he hid the Pinyol family during the war and in exchange for that act of kindness he was given the orchard.  In a way, Alcarràs is already resolved in those opening minutes as the Solé family faces eviction with no avenue of legal recourse and the remainder of the film is the tragic fallout; a golden-lit funeral march. 

Abad gives an incredibly heartfelt and tender performance as Rogelio.  He provides a calming presence that helps salve the more abrasive nature of his son, Quimet, and even with the end of the farm on the horizon, he still works the fields and participates in the community as if nothing has changed.  Much to Quimet’s dismay, he still sends baskets of fresh produce to the Pinyol’s because that is just how things have always been done; neighbor helping neighbor.  Rogelio is representative of an idea of community that has long since given way to the modernity of business advantages, legal contracts, and solar energy.  It is important to note that Simón’s narrative never treats Rogelio as if he is a bumbling old man without his wits as he is sharp as ever. What is unclear, purposefully so, is some of the man’s deeper and more inner thoughts. There is a reading of the film where Rogelio is racked with guilt, but at the same time, another reading is that this is all part of the circle of life. As the man ages and grows closer to his own passing, this is one more aspect of life that his family will have to move on and grow from. Life is seldom so black and white, so the answer is most likely somewhere in the middle, but what is clear is that the family is still deeply rooted in love because of the familiar image that Rogelio helped to foster. The few scenes in which he does get to share with his wife, Tieta (Antònia Castells), the pair brings so much love to the screen that it is hard to believe that this cast is not all one true family. 

The next generation comprises of Rogelio and Tieta’s three children: the aforementioned Quimet, Nati (Montse Oró), and Glòria (Berta Pipó), and is extended to include Quimet’s wife Dolors (Anna Otin) and Nati’s husband Cisco (Carles Cabós).  This is the generation that is currently at the helm of the family, but none can seemingly agree on what to do given the news that their lives are about to be forever changed.  Quimet lashes out at Cisco who has warmed to the idea of the solar panels, enjoying the fact that it is less work and pays more than peaches.  The tension, and their reaction to the tension, are some of the more fascinating and polarizing moments of the film as they beat against this changing world – and at times, each other – but are powerless to stop it.  Quimet, most notably, shows fear and rage against these changes, but through the wives’ eyes the film takes on a knowing sense of apathy; not that they do not care about the farm and their livelihood, but there is a clear feeling that the dynamics in place do not give them a voice in the matter.  Nati and Dolors are constantly oscillating between caring for the home and the children and – what is often an even bigger task – soothing the egos of their bullheaded husbands.  Alcarràs, despite the pressure of the modern world, still reflects the traditional gender norms, but even that time-tested dynamic is beginning to crack as the generations grow younger and more in control of their lives. It sets up some nice poetry in that while the youngest will be paving new paths given the fate of the peach orchard, they will have more control and agency over their lives than the previous generation did.

Working through the family tree, Alcarràs seems the most interested in this youngest generation which can be split into the older Roger and Mariona (Xènia Roset), and then the younger clan. Mariona gets the short end of the stick, not just in her and Roger’s story, but in the film overall.  It is not that Simón was unsure of how to handle the teenager, but that her plot line is one that is so centered and fueled by nervous uncertainty and her shy, reserved nature, that when the film breaks to cover her, it feels as if the energy has been drained.  Her story seems to be dealing with feelings of uncertainty, and while the city girls do not say it outright, there is a feeling that Maroina does not quite fit in as the other four girls do.  The reoccurring theme of how tradition mixes with modernity is most personally felt through Mariona’s arc as the girl is fiercely devoted to her family, but that devotion makes it difficult to assimilate with the other girls her age. That Roset still manages to give a memorable performance is a credit to her as an actress, but the role feels a little undeveloped in the broader sense of the film, and this sense is further highlighted given how much of Alcarràs revolves around Roger. Even in that way, though the arcs of the older generations are also more heavily skewed to the male members of the family; it is not until Alcarràs focuses on Roger and Mariona’s much younger sister, Iris (Ainet Jounou), that a female character is the driving force of the narrative.

Roger is the heir-apparent to the peach orchard and has taken on much of the responsibility of the harvest. He has a clear affinity for the agricultural lifestyle as along with his Uncle Cisco and outside of his father’s knowledge, he has begun tending to his own crop of marijuana; another example of mixing the old with the new and Quimet’s inability to cope.  Quimet, however, is adamant that Roger focus instead on his education, something the boy is reluctant to do.  The film is always focusing on a clash between Quimet and Roger, and while the two are working towards a common goal, there is a brutish stubbornness about Quimet that is always ricocheting off of Roger’s own teenaged stubbornness.  But the contrast that is most interesting is in how Alcarràs shows how easy it is for Roger to let loose in a crowd of his peers – shooting off fireworks, dancing, and otherwise just cajoling with his friends – when compared to Mariona.  They are both extensions of their parents, and while Roger may seem to have a solid head on his shoulders, his path is going nowhere now without the farm, and wider than just the family acreage, prices for produce are unlivable leaving the boy with few viable career options.  Like her mother, and her grandmother, though, Mariona seems much more passive, and there is a sense that she will be the one helping Roger once the last peach has been picked instead of Roger being the one to come to her “rescue.” 

The final subset of the family the film focuses on are the youngest: Iris, and the twins Pau (Isaac Rovira) and Pere (Joel Rovira).  They are the first people we meet at the start of the film as they play in a rusted-out car – pretending it is a rocket ship headed to the moon – before a crane operator tells them they need to get out so they can remove the car.  We do not know it, but this scene will reflect the final scene as the crane takes away more and more of the Solé’s world.  Their interaction with the narrative is just as tragic, even if they are too young to fully comprehend what is going on in the greater arc, they are constantly faced with dislocation as their play areas are taken away from them just as soon as they can find them.  They are mad and upset without a place to play, and after the fallout between Quiment and Cisco, Iris is all alone since the twins are no longer coming around until the two men resolve their differences.  No one in the Solé family has any control over this situation, but the continued focus that Simón gives to this youngest group is especially tragic even if they will end up being the most resilient of the family. 

Alcarràs is a difficult film to break into given its meandering, slice-of-life nature, complicated further by the general lack of stakes in this unhurried march to the end of an era.  Despite that, it is still a boiling pot drama as a million different micro-tensions bounce off one another, reverberating and growing in intensity, under the sweltering sun.  Daniela Cajías’ camera captures the events of the film as if it were a documentary, floating through the frame, never focusing on one person or place for too long.  Without a traditional narrative structure, Alcarràs is a puzzling film in its simplicity, but once audiences accept its free-flowing nature it becomes a much easier film to fall into.  We never feel alienated in this drama, and though the film ends without much of a resolution, we feel full and wrapped in the love that this family shares together.