logo
Underdog tale just the ticket in these trying times

Underdog tale just the ticket in these trying times

The Advertiser11-07-2025
This gentle, stirring drama is as modest in its scope as it is timely, and it is based on personal history.
It's the story of a local hero who risked losing his job and earning a jail sentence as he took a courageous stand against the lack of services to his neighbourhood on the periphery of Barcelona. As government and the corporate
The quixotic gesture of a bus driver in Barcelona during the 1950s has been brought to our notice by filmmaker Marcel Barrena who co-wrote the screenplay with Alberto Marini.
The director's most recent film, about refugees who cross the sea to reach Europe, was another tale preserving the human dignity of people who are struggling. Mediterraneo was also a drama inspired by a real-life story, that of a Barcelona lifeguard instrumental in the establishment of an NGO for rescuing migrants on the open sea. As the lead character, actor Eduard Fernandez comfortably filled the frame and does the same here too, as bus driver Manolo Vital, a man of dignity and warmth.
In flight with his teenage daughter from the Falangists in the Extremadura region in the country's west, Vital and a group of political refugees settled on the outskirts of Barcelona in the 1950s. It was not for the welcome they received.
The city bureaucrats continued for decades to ignore the needs of the shanty dwellers on the edge of town, in the neighbourhood of Torre Baro. The construction of dwellings on the periphery of cities was apparently a common occurrence beyond Catalonia, as the country slowly moved out from under Franco's authoritarian rule.
Torre Baro was, in the first place, a hasty build. Early scenes set in the 1950s, suitably sepia-toned and framed in boxy format, depict the welcome the newcomers received from the local police. They were under orders to demolish any unfinished building if it did not meet regulations in the morning. Structures went up overnight, in a flurry with queues for bricks and bags of cement, as there would be no leniency on the other side, as the police arrived.
When a particularly malevolent policeman appears and returns later, and when the views of Vital's teenage daughter, Joana (Zoe Bonafonte), come the fore, the focus shifts to the deeply ingrained political divisions of modern Spain.
The other woman in Vital's life is Carme, played by Clara Segura. When she emerged from the fringe community she was still a Catholic nun. When Carme fell in love with the quiet, dignified, hunky man, she left the church and became his wife and a caring stepmother to Joana.
Hardship was integral to the way of life for the residents of Torre Baro, in their long wait for connection to the city's utilities. Improvements to their quality of life, such as a reliable water supply, were slow to improve, and intermittent. But it was the absence of transport service up the hill into Torre Baro that rankled.
It seemed impossible to fix. Who would use such a service, the authorities asked. Why, the people who came down this morning!
City authorities, typically dapper, dark and handsome and ensconced in the city's beautiful buildings, received Vital courteously, but a bus service never materialised. It was time for action, and what fun it is on board the trundling bus, El 47.
This is an uplifting low-key drama. The deepfelt political conviction beneath this story of a leftist who married a nun are made explicit in the final scenes. We sensed they were there. It's just that filmmaker Barrena is a skilled and creative storyteller, investing his persuasive energies in the simple, straightforward narrative that unfolds.
This gentle, stirring drama is as modest in its scope as it is timely, and it is based on personal history.
It's the story of a local hero who risked losing his job and earning a jail sentence as he took a courageous stand against the lack of services to his neighbourhood on the periphery of Barcelona. As government and the corporate
The quixotic gesture of a bus driver in Barcelona during the 1950s has been brought to our notice by filmmaker Marcel Barrena who co-wrote the screenplay with Alberto Marini.
The director's most recent film, about refugees who cross the sea to reach Europe, was another tale preserving the human dignity of people who are struggling. Mediterraneo was also a drama inspired by a real-life story, that of a Barcelona lifeguard instrumental in the establishment of an NGO for rescuing migrants on the open sea. As the lead character, actor Eduard Fernandez comfortably filled the frame and does the same here too, as bus driver Manolo Vital, a man of dignity and warmth.
In flight with his teenage daughter from the Falangists in the Extremadura region in the country's west, Vital and a group of political refugees settled on the outskirts of Barcelona in the 1950s. It was not for the welcome they received.
The city bureaucrats continued for decades to ignore the needs of the shanty dwellers on the edge of town, in the neighbourhood of Torre Baro. The construction of dwellings on the periphery of cities was apparently a common occurrence beyond Catalonia, as the country slowly moved out from under Franco's authoritarian rule.
Torre Baro was, in the first place, a hasty build. Early scenes set in the 1950s, suitably sepia-toned and framed in boxy format, depict the welcome the newcomers received from the local police. They were under orders to demolish any unfinished building if it did not meet regulations in the morning. Structures went up overnight, in a flurry with queues for bricks and bags of cement, as there would be no leniency on the other side, as the police arrived.
When a particularly malevolent policeman appears and returns later, and when the views of Vital's teenage daughter, Joana (Zoe Bonafonte), come the fore, the focus shifts to the deeply ingrained political divisions of modern Spain.
The other woman in Vital's life is Carme, played by Clara Segura. When she emerged from the fringe community she was still a Catholic nun. When Carme fell in love with the quiet, dignified, hunky man, she left the church and became his wife and a caring stepmother to Joana.
Hardship was integral to the way of life for the residents of Torre Baro, in their long wait for connection to the city's utilities. Improvements to their quality of life, such as a reliable water supply, were slow to improve, and intermittent. But it was the absence of transport service up the hill into Torre Baro that rankled.
It seemed impossible to fix. Who would use such a service, the authorities asked. Why, the people who came down this morning!
City authorities, typically dapper, dark and handsome and ensconced in the city's beautiful buildings, received Vital courteously, but a bus service never materialised. It was time for action, and what fun it is on board the trundling bus, El 47.
This is an uplifting low-key drama. The deepfelt political conviction beneath this story of a leftist who married a nun are made explicit in the final scenes. We sensed they were there. It's just that filmmaker Barrena is a skilled and creative storyteller, investing his persuasive energies in the simple, straightforward narrative that unfolds.
This gentle, stirring drama is as modest in its scope as it is timely, and it is based on personal history.
It's the story of a local hero who risked losing his job and earning a jail sentence as he took a courageous stand against the lack of services to his neighbourhood on the periphery of Barcelona. As government and the corporate
The quixotic gesture of a bus driver in Barcelona during the 1950s has been brought to our notice by filmmaker Marcel Barrena who co-wrote the screenplay with Alberto Marini.
The director's most recent film, about refugees who cross the sea to reach Europe, was another tale preserving the human dignity of people who are struggling. Mediterraneo was also a drama inspired by a real-life story, that of a Barcelona lifeguard instrumental in the establishment of an NGO for rescuing migrants on the open sea. As the lead character, actor Eduard Fernandez comfortably filled the frame and does the same here too, as bus driver Manolo Vital, a man of dignity and warmth.
In flight with his teenage daughter from the Falangists in the Extremadura region in the country's west, Vital and a group of political refugees settled on the outskirts of Barcelona in the 1950s. It was not for the welcome they received.
The city bureaucrats continued for decades to ignore the needs of the shanty dwellers on the edge of town, in the neighbourhood of Torre Baro. The construction of dwellings on the periphery of cities was apparently a common occurrence beyond Catalonia, as the country slowly moved out from under Franco's authoritarian rule.
Torre Baro was, in the first place, a hasty build. Early scenes set in the 1950s, suitably sepia-toned and framed in boxy format, depict the welcome the newcomers received from the local police. They were under orders to demolish any unfinished building if it did not meet regulations in the morning. Structures went up overnight, in a flurry with queues for bricks and bags of cement, as there would be no leniency on the other side, as the police arrived.
When a particularly malevolent policeman appears and returns later, and when the views of Vital's teenage daughter, Joana (Zoe Bonafonte), come the fore, the focus shifts to the deeply ingrained political divisions of modern Spain.
The other woman in Vital's life is Carme, played by Clara Segura. When she emerged from the fringe community she was still a Catholic nun. When Carme fell in love with the quiet, dignified, hunky man, she left the church and became his wife and a caring stepmother to Joana.
Hardship was integral to the way of life for the residents of Torre Baro, in their long wait for connection to the city's utilities. Improvements to their quality of life, such as a reliable water supply, were slow to improve, and intermittent. But it was the absence of transport service up the hill into Torre Baro that rankled.
It seemed impossible to fix. Who would use such a service, the authorities asked. Why, the people who came down this morning!
City authorities, typically dapper, dark and handsome and ensconced in the city's beautiful buildings, received Vital courteously, but a bus service never materialised. It was time for action, and what fun it is on board the trundling bus, El 47.
This is an uplifting low-key drama. The deepfelt political conviction beneath this story of a leftist who married a nun are made explicit in the final scenes. We sensed they were there. It's just that filmmaker Barrena is a skilled and creative storyteller, investing his persuasive energies in the simple, straightforward narrative that unfolds.
This gentle, stirring drama is as modest in its scope as it is timely, and it is based on personal history.
It's the story of a local hero who risked losing his job and earning a jail sentence as he took a courageous stand against the lack of services to his neighbourhood on the periphery of Barcelona. As government and the corporate
The quixotic gesture of a bus driver in Barcelona during the 1950s has been brought to our notice by filmmaker Marcel Barrena who co-wrote the screenplay with Alberto Marini.
The director's most recent film, about refugees who cross the sea to reach Europe, was another tale preserving the human dignity of people who are struggling. Mediterraneo was also a drama inspired by a real-life story, that of a Barcelona lifeguard instrumental in the establishment of an NGO for rescuing migrants on the open sea. As the lead character, actor Eduard Fernandez comfortably filled the frame and does the same here too, as bus driver Manolo Vital, a man of dignity and warmth.
In flight with his teenage daughter from the Falangists in the Extremadura region in the country's west, Vital and a group of political refugees settled on the outskirts of Barcelona in the 1950s. It was not for the welcome they received.
The city bureaucrats continued for decades to ignore the needs of the shanty dwellers on the edge of town, in the neighbourhood of Torre Baro. The construction of dwellings on the periphery of cities was apparently a common occurrence beyond Catalonia, as the country slowly moved out from under Franco's authoritarian rule.
Torre Baro was, in the first place, a hasty build. Early scenes set in the 1950s, suitably sepia-toned and framed in boxy format, depict the welcome the newcomers received from the local police. They were under orders to demolish any unfinished building if it did not meet regulations in the morning. Structures went up overnight, in a flurry with queues for bricks and bags of cement, as there would be no leniency on the other side, as the police arrived.
When a particularly malevolent policeman appears and returns later, and when the views of Vital's teenage daughter, Joana (Zoe Bonafonte), come the fore, the focus shifts to the deeply ingrained political divisions of modern Spain.
The other woman in Vital's life is Carme, played by Clara Segura. When she emerged from the fringe community she was still a Catholic nun. When Carme fell in love with the quiet, dignified, hunky man, she left the church and became his wife and a caring stepmother to Joana.
Hardship was integral to the way of life for the residents of Torre Baro, in their long wait for connection to the city's utilities. Improvements to their quality of life, such as a reliable water supply, were slow to improve, and intermittent. But it was the absence of transport service up the hill into Torre Baro that rankled.
It seemed impossible to fix. Who would use such a service, the authorities asked. Why, the people who came down this morning!
City authorities, typically dapper, dark and handsome and ensconced in the city's beautiful buildings, received Vital courteously, but a bus service never materialised. It was time for action, and what fun it is on board the trundling bus, El 47.
This is an uplifting low-key drama. The deepfelt political conviction beneath this story of a leftist who married a nun are made explicit in the final scenes. We sensed they were there. It's just that filmmaker Barrena is a skilled and creative storyteller, investing his persuasive energies in the simple, straightforward narrative that unfolds.
Orange background

Try Our AI Features

Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:

Comments

No comments yet...

Related Articles

Finn Wolfhard gushes Pope Leo XIV is ‘cool'
Finn Wolfhard gushes Pope Leo XIV is ‘cool'

Perth Now

time05-08-2025

  • Perth Now

Finn Wolfhard gushes Pope Leo XIV is ‘cool'

Finn Wolfhard thinks Pope Leo XIV is 'cool'. The Stranger Things actor, 22, has been a familiar face on screen since his early teens and while navigating international fame continued to attend a local Catholic school during the show's early seasons rather than opting for homeschooling like many of his young co-stars. Now, with over a decade in the public eye, Finn said in a chat with Variety in which he reflectied on the intersection of faith, politics, anxiety and growing up in front of the world: 'Pope Leo XIV looks like a cool liberal guy who actually cares about people. 'I'm pretty agnostic now, but religion was a big part of my childhood.' Despite describing himself as politically active, Finn added he prefers to stay largely private when it comes to public discourse. He said: 'I am active in my personal life and try not to be in public. 'But I also know how that sounds in the sense of 'Everyone has a platform' and 'I should be more… '.' In particular, Finn identified two causes he is deeply committed to – Ukraine and Indigenous land rights. His father, an attorney, advocates for the latter. Finn added: 'I think the amount that the government gets away with, by just f****** over so many Indigenous groups. 'They have to fight the government to try to get money from them for stolen land – it's just insane.' Finn also supports Ukraine through monthly donations to United24, a fundraising platform launched by President Volodymyr Zelenskyy. Finn also opened up about how the challenges of fame were compounded by early-onset anxiety, which he says was formally diagnosed. 'Diagnosed, yeah,' he said. Finn added: 'Then I started seeing a therapist. It's something that's worked for me. I can either try to bury that stuff and just do project after project, not think about it, or be able to ask myself these questions.' Finn is currently single and describes his current focus as being firmly on his work. But when asked about his relationship status, he struggled to form a complete thought. He said: 'I'm single and like… I feel like that's something that I'm also kind of thinking about right now is just like… this is the time kind of where I have been doing the most work kind of in my life. 'So I feel like it's been kind of… maybe it's been subconsciously – what's the word? – deliberate?, to not have a committed partner. 'Just because I'm 22, I don't really want to put my… also considering how… at the rate that I'm traveling all the time and working and stuff, I just feel like it's not the time to do that.'

Vatican embraces social media 'digital missionaries'
Vatican embraces social media 'digital missionaries'

News.com.au

time31-07-2025

  • News.com.au

Vatican embraces social media 'digital missionaries'

Sister Albertine, a youthful French Catholic nun, stood outside the Vatican, phone in hand, ready to shoot more videos for her hundreds of thousands of followers online. The 29-year-old nun, whose secular name is Albertine Debacker, is one of hundreds of Catholic influencers in Rome for a Vatican-organised social media summit this week. The Vatican calls them "digital missionaries" and -- in an unprecedented move for the centuries-old institution -- Pope Leo XIV led a mass dedicated to them at St Peter's Basilica, calling on them to create content for those who "need to know the Lord". Long wary of social media, the Catholic Church now sees it as a vital tool to spread the faith amid dwindling church attendance. For Sister Albertine, this is the ideal "missionary terrain". Inside the Baroque basilica, she was one of a swarm of religious influencers who surrounded the new pope, live streaming the meeting on their smartphones within one of Christianity's most sacred spots. She said it was highly symbolic that the Vatican organised the event bringing together its Instagramming-disciples. "It tells us: 'it's important, go for it, we're with you and we'll search together how we can take this new evangelisation forward," she told AFP. The influencer summit was held as part of the Vatican's "Jubilee of Youth", as young believers flooded Rome this week. - 'The great influencer is God' - Sister Albertine has 320,000 followers on Instagram and some of her TikTok videos get more than a million views. She shares a mix of prayers with episodes from daily religious life, often from French abbeys. "You feel alone and I suggest that we can pray together," she said in one video, crossing herself. But, as religious content spreads online in the social media and AI era, one of the reasons behind the Vatican's summit was for it to express its position on the trend. "You are not only influencers, you are missionaries," influential Cardinal Luis Antonio Tagle -- one of the few Vatican officials active on social media - told those attending mass. The "great influencer is God", he added. - 'Jesus not a digital programme' - But Tagle also warned that "Jesus is not a voice generated by a digital programme". Pope Leo called on his online followers to strike a balance at a time when society is "hyperconnected" and "bombarded with images, sometimes false or distorted". "It is not simply a matter of generating content, but of creating an encounter between hearts," said the American pope, 69. It is this balance that has been hard to strike, with some Catholic clerics themselves embracing a social media presence. Father Giuseppe Fusari does not look like a regular priest: wearing tight shirts exposing his arm tattoos. To his 63,000 followers on Instagram, he mixes content about Italian church architecture and preaching. - 'Important we're online too' - Fusari told AFP there is no reason Catholic clerics should not embrace the world of online videos. "Everyone uses social media, so it's important that we're there too," said Fusari, who came to Rome for the influencer event from the northern city of Brescia. Fusari said his goal was to reach as many people as possible online, sharing the "word of God" with them. This also takes the form of sharing videos of his chihuahua eating spaghetti. But priests and nuns are not the only ones trying to attract people to the Church online, with regular believers spreading the faith too. Francesca Parisi, a 31-year-old Italian teacher, joined the Catholic Church later in life. She now has some 20,000 followers on TikTok, where she tries to make the Catholic faith look trendy. Her target audience? People who have "drifted away" from the church. It's possible, she said, to lure them back through their smartphones. "If God did it with me, rest assured, he can also do it with you." mdb-oc/ams/jj/tc

Neal McDonough 'lost everything' over strict no-kiss rule
Neal McDonough 'lost everything' over strict no-kiss rule

Perth Now

time30-07-2025

  • Perth Now

Neal McDonough 'lost everything' over strict no-kiss rule

Neal McDonough says he "lost everything" after refusing to kiss on-screen. The 59-year-old actor – who has been married to Ruvé McDonough since 2003 – claims Hollywood 'completely turned' on him and he was unable to land any acting gigs, due to his no kissing rule. Speaking in a new clip from the Nothing Left Unsaid podcast, obtained by TMZ, Neal said: 'I'd always had in my contracts that I wouldn't kiss another woman onscreen. My wife didn't have a problem with it, it was me really who had a problem with it. They couldn't understand it, Hollywood just completely turned on me and they wouldn't let me be part of the show anymore. And for two years I couldn't get a job and I lost everything you could possibly imagine. 'Not just houses and material things but your swagger, your cool, who you are, your identity, everything. My identity was an actor and a really good one. And once you don't have that identity, you're kind of lost in a tailspin and I was lost in a big ugly tailspin for a couple of years.' Devout Catholic Neal finally had his first on-screen kiss in his latest movie The Last Rodeo, after convincing his wife Ruvé to play his onscreen love interest. He told Fox News Digital: 'I've been riding horses my whole life, so to jump into this saddle is different because I've never really been in this type of saddle before. I've not been the hero of the movie. I've never been in the position where I get to kiss the girl in the end because, as everyone knows, I won't kiss another woman on screen. 'I convinced my wife, Ruvé. I said, 'Honey, you have to be in the film because I have to kiss the girl in the end.' She's like, 'I don't know how to act.' I'm like, 'Well, you do now.' 'Ups and downs, the hard times I went through because of choices I've made, now are all in the rearview mirror.'

DOWNLOAD THE APP

Get Started Now: Download the App

Ready to dive into a world of global content with local flavor? Download Daily8 app today from your preferred app store and start exploring.
app-storeplay-store