To Die in Madrid

First caught this documentary back in the early seventies at an art-house, and beyond my political beliefs at that particular moment, it filled me with sadness. Sorrow for the opportunities lost, for the needless cruelty, for the unnecessary deaths, for the destruction of the hopes of a nation. Nor victors neither vanquished enjoyed nothing but pain, exile, hard work, and tyranny, some of them or all. And, of course, death everywhere.

I do have the DVD, french language with Spanish subtitles. Last night I foolishly decided to watch it again, only to find myself with my soul filled with grief, and on the brink of crying (and I'm 50).

Having had the opportunity to know well the Spanish people, as well as too many an expatriate since '39, I must praise this chef d'oeuvre beyond all criticism. It's simple, it's linear, it's predictable, it's sometimes a little corny, and it's profoundly TRAGIC, as it retells forever the tragedy a a most beautiful country and its bloody self-sacrifice.