From Sundance: Comedic Tragedy in ‘El Planeta’

Gijón, a post-industrial city on the Northwest coast of Spain, recently became the subject of a love letter that premiered at the 2021 Sundance Film Festival. “El Planeta” — the brainchild of artist Amalia Ulman who directed, produced, wrote, and starred in the film — is a comedic, feminist ode to the perennially gray city and to the uniqueness of mother-daughter relationships in the face of tragedy.

Shot in black and white (Ulman said in a post-screening Q&A that she doesn't believe Gijón looks good in color), the film follows main character Leo (Ulman), who, after her father’s death, leaves her life as a fashion student in London to return to her hometown of Gijón, where her mother, María (played by Ale Ulman, Amalia’s real-life mother), is on the verge of eviction. Drowning in debt, the two scheme their next meals by selling personal items online and running up tabs based on extensive lies and scams.

Already a family affair in terms of casting, Ulman’s “El Planeta” is also deeply personal. The film’s formal choices, for example — like Ulman’s use of unconventional, kitschy transitions in between scenes — are inspired directly by her art practice. As an installation, performance, and video artist, she often relies on pre-animated transitions, even using applications like PowerPoint in her video production. This is a practice Ulman translates into “El Planeta” in the form of eccentric star or square-shaped transitions between scenes. “El Planeta” is also semi-autobiographical, based in part on the Ulman duo’s experience getting evicted during Spain’s 2008 to 2014 financial crisis and in-part on a news story about mother-daughter scammers in Gijón.

Despite the outwardly hopeless premise of “El Planeta” — of two women attempting to live life to the fullest while knowing they’re close to losing it all — the tone never feels tragic. At the very least, it is not tragic in the sterile, martyrous, and melodramatic way in which tragedy is usually represented in film. Rather, Ulman satirizes it and the social systems which created it. No doubt that this treatment of tragedy is fueled in part by Ulman’s own experiences: She has no need to put it on a pedestal, so humanizes it instead.

Perhaps the most prominent way Ulman uses satire to humanize tragedy is the scenarios poking fun at the duo’s situation. For example, in an attempt to make some money and get out of their financial hole, Leo subjects herself to painfully awkward encounters with two men — one as a potential romantic partner, the other as a sugar daddy. And in both cases, the men are ridiculous. They’re out of touch, rude, and oblivious to the world around them to the point of absurdity. They’re made even more absurd when Ulman’s depiction of Leo and her mother reminds viewers of the financial struggle that forced Leo into that position in the first place. And still, under mountains of debt, Leo and her mother wear designer coats and worry about getting a “poor person’s body” from the lack of food in their fridge. Ulman doesn’t shame or belittle Leo and María for their priorities; she only shows them as they are, and in doing so, expertly calls the viewer’s attention to the two characters' contradictions.

It’s a fresh addition to the Sundance catalog by an up and coming, innovative filmmaker with an eye for art and aesthetics. Even though it’s filmed in black and white, “El Planeta” always feels vibrant and full of life. Leo’s enviable fashion and María’s increasingly unhinged lies undeniably add to that feeling. But what really makes the film truly memorable is the natural chemistry between María and Leo, who are lovable from start to finish.

— Staff writer Sofia Andrade can be reached at sofia.andrade@thecrimson.com. Follow her on Twitter at @SofiaAndrade__.