The cinema of Marc Ferrer (Barcelona, 40 years old) is driven by considerable sensitivity and a, let’s say, less considerable budget. In the various shorts and medium-length films that this Barcelona native has shot uninterruptedly since he was 15—when, as a teenager from the working-class neighborhood of Sabadell, he saw Mom’s murders, by John Waters, on TV3 and fell in love with cinema—the photography is not always well taken care of, the sets do not seem to have been designed and the sound is not the best. The actors are not usually professionals, the aesthetics are homemade, the media is not Hollywood: sometimes it seems like there are no media at all. Thus, Ferrer has earned labels such as “filmmaker underground”, that he does not love them because what defines his cinema, he insists, is not the lack of money, but spontaneity, the curiosity to see what is outside the conventions of the industry and the desire to exalt faces that have not passed by acting schools.
Warholiano y johnwatersiano by allusions, a cult filmmaker for more than one, nicknamed the “gay Albert Serra” for his explosive opinions on the Spanish film industry, this enfant terrible (who has little left enfant) released this month in theaters Laugh, sing, maybe cry (January 3 on Filmin), a musical comedy that tells the beautiful love story between a trans woman and an illegal Moroccan immigrant.
Ask. Why do you make films?
Answer. I’ve never really thought about it. When I was little I drew comics, I made music. I had always wanted to have a video camera to record scripts I wrote. My parents gave me one when I was 15 or so, I started making short films, and I haven’t stopped.
P. To get rich it will not be…
R. On the contrary, I even lose money. I would like to make films within the industry and make a living from this. Also to be able to pay the people who make films with me. But for now…
P. Don’t you pay the team?
R. No one charges. I don’t charge, no one charges. We do everything for the love of art, for militancy.
P. Is your aesthetic a solution rather than a choice?
R. The cinema I make is what I can, not what I want. The aesthetics are very poor, contrary to commercial cinema. If I don’t have money to make films, I’m not going to worry about photography, the visual part. I am aware that I am doing something without a budget, and instead of pretending to be something I am not, I put my cards on the table.
No one charges. I don’t charge, no one charges. We do everything for the love of art, for militancy
P. But he seems comfortable with his aesthetics.
R. I feel very comfortable. I come from having done Cut (2021), a film with a slightly larger budget, because Filmin and the production company Canada from Barcelona participated. It was a professional shoot, with professional technicians. And a difficult experience, because there really wasn’t that much money either, and everyone also participated for the love of art but with professional filming dynamics. It was hard, it cost me my health. People thought that I was going to take a step forward, that my next film would be with a budget, and instead, I have gone back to doing something without professional technicians: just me with the camera, and two friends who helped me with the microphone and the clapperboard. I think that the happiness that we experienced while filming is transmitted to the viewer when it comes to watching the film.
P. What does he live on?
R. I have been a script tutor in some scholarships from the Film Academy and I collaborate with festivals and laboratories. But come on, I live in a very austere way.
P. If you did something with media, would it be more conventional?
R. I think that, really, if I had money and means, I would have even more freedom to do what I wanted. I don’t think it’s incompatible. Pedro Almodóvar also started making films with no budget and then he continued his career within the industry and always doing what he wanted.
P. Man, he’s comparing himself to Almodóvar.
R. Well. I also like Stanley Sunday, a filmmaker from underground who has made super fun and super free movies.
P. But in Spain there is no underground, ¿no?
R. That’s what you people of Madrid believe. In Barcelona there are underground because it mainstream It’s TV3, a very dirty thing. Here in Madrid, how famous is it and everyone comes with the intention of making a living from art, cinema, music, painting…
P. I insist: if they put resources into it, won’t they charge you an artistic price for them?
P. What is very difficult for me is not adapting to the quality standards of the industry, let’s say, or to the prevailing tastes. What costs me is the times. The fact that you feel the desire to make a film and have to wait four years to raise a budget to shoot it makes me desperate. My cinema is very impulsive. Now I have the desire to make a new film and maybe in four years I won’t care about this story. And I won’t have that desire, the same desire. And that affects the artistic quality of Spanish cinema. All filmmakers go through that. They have the desire to do something and many cannot do it, because they stop trying. And most of those who do it take a long time to achieve what they want. I think the cinema we have in Spain is quite mediocre and that all this has to do with the result.
P. Is the cinema we have mediocre?
R. In general, yes. Old and sad movies: those that are really promoted by the industry and the system, both the State and the television networks and now the platforms. Pretty mediocre movies, everyone agrees on that, right?
P. Then you wonder why the industry doesn’t listen to you!
R. It has nothing to do with it.
P. Does Spain punish independent voices?
R. There is a lack of cinematographic education. We viewers have been educated very poorly and that also means that the general taste of Spaniards towards cinema is quite mediocre.
P. Compared to…?
R. In France there is much more culture in general and cinema in particular.
Really, I make the films I make because it is a desire that is born in me. I don’t care about the rest
P. On the spectrum between honesty and popularity, it’s admirable to see someone so committed to the honesty camp.
R. Popularity really doesn’t matter to me. I mean, I don’t care, because I think that thanks to popularity I could make films with more resources and budget. But, really, I make the films I make because it is a desire that is born in me. I do what I feel I have to do. And then the rest comes alone, right?
P. What have you learned from living against?
R. As a producer once said, if institutions do not really support this type of cinema, this cinema is in danger of extinction. Because you can’t make films this way all your life, this generates wear and tear, fatigue. Many fall by the wayside.
P. How do you handle it?
R. Very good, maybe because I have hope. I see that people like what I do. If I made films and no one paid attention to them and I didn’t want to screen them at any festival, I would still be discouraged. But I feel super welcomed by the public, a minority audience, but it encourages me.
P. Who watches your movies?
R. Young people. Movie buffs. People who like me understand a little about what cinema is about, because if not… Then they recognize me in the most unexpected places.
P. For example?
R. At a party or in a sauna.
P. Which Goya would you be most excited about receiving a film of yours?
R. Best movie.
P. Not a better director or a better script…
R. The important thing is the movie.
P. Is the industry famous?
R. Bad reputation, it may be. Many people want to make films but with means. And they make the excuse that, since those means do not arrive, they do not do it. The key to why I do it is… that I do it, you know? The means don’t matter, I do it with what I have, I have always been very clear that with a camera, a computer and your friends you can make films. I make movies to show that movies can be made.