Mario Casas, lost and found in Utrecht

In the last century, vehicle license plates displayed the province's identification. This led to surprising situations, such as the case of Gijón residents who went to Girona to register their car and thus displayed the initials GI on the plate, instead of the letter O for Oviedo, the capital of Asturias, a city with which they maintain a great rivalry. Also at that time, when cars crossed the French border—with their passport, green card, and a few francs in their wallets—they would honk their horns when crossing the road and identify a Spanish license plate. The further north they went, the more effusive the signals became, to the point that a vehicle from Seville would ostentatiously greet one from Lleida if they met in Paris.
This countryman came to mind when I saw the film Far Away, one of the films I had pending for my vacation. Gerard Oms's film is a story of self-discovery, in this case about a young man who travels to Utrecht to watch an Espanyol match and decides to start a new life there. Oms, a veteran of many films and making his directorial debut here, recreates a personal experience in the Netherlands a few years ago with captivating harshness and tenderness.
The actor's face lights up when he hears Nausicaa Bonnín reciting 'Ben poco cosa ten'For this purpose, he has the complicity of a graceful Mario Casas, in a beautifully intimate role. It turns out that the Galician actor lived in Catalonia for a few years, so if he ever wants to dedicate himself to stand-up comedy, he could very well begin his performances by paying homage to Pepe Rubianes with his joke about being "Galician-Catalan." In Muy lejos, his character even utters a few lines in Catalan.
The film is spoken in Spanish and many other languages: Catalan, Arabic, Dutch... The character played by Casas comes from a Spanish-speaking family, but when he hears someone speaking Catalan, he identifies that language as Casa. In the scene that takes place at the Cervantes Institute in Utrecht, his face lights up when he hears Nausicaa Bonnín reciting " Ben poca cosa tens." Casas climbs the stairs chasing those verses in a moving image: "Ben poca cosa tens: / The table and a few books, / her lover, who is rain / and also doesn't forget it, / and this silence, dens / of words in words."
The poem is by Miquel Martí i Pol and clearly connects with what the protagonist is experiencing. Amidst the loneliness and isolation of the emigrant, language is a lifeline. By the way, don't miss the musical version by Salvador Sobral and Sílvia Pérez Cruz: "Here are the people / for your company. / No and I refuse to give up / the horizons that I have crossed."
lavanguardia