Contemporary Basque Cinema: Online, Elsewhere and Otherwise Engaged

Home , Basque diaspora, Segovia prison break

ROB STONE

University of Birmingham and MARÍA PILAR RODRÍGUEZ

Universidad de Deusto

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Abstract Basque cinema is and always has been a vital medium for the examination and perpetuation of Basque identity. It is as buffeted by civil war and social change as it is by new media technologies and linguistic, cultural, propagandist and industrial imperatives. It may represent a small nation, but the interwoven history, politics and art of Basque cinema is founded upon immense ambition. This article establishes the criteria for the definition and classification of an open, plural and mixed Basque cinema that functions as a focal point for many issues of topical and enduring debate. These include questions of language in relation to identity, the cultural expression of diasporic communities, the notion of nationalism in relation to cultural expression, the propagation of tradition and the value of aesthetic and technological innovation, as well as the importance of funding for the arts in relation to nation-building (and the possibility of that funding being used to create subversive works). It concludes with a consideration of the function of the cinema within a specific community and region that points to comparative associations with the cinemas of other nations. Resumen El cine vasco es y ha sido siempre un medio excepcional para el examen y la continuidad de la identidad vasca. Ha estado sacudido e impulsado tanto por la Guerra Civil y los cambios sociales como por las nuevas tecnologías y los imperativos lingüísticos, culturales, propagandísticos e industriales. Puede parecer que repre- senta a una nación pequeña, pero la intrincada conexión de la historia, la política y el arte en el cine vasco está fundamentada en una gran ambición. Este artículo establece el criterio para la definición y clasificación de un cine vasco abierto, plural y mixto, que funciona como un punto de encuentro de diversas nociones relevantes para futuros debates. Tales nociones incluyen cuestiones propias de la lengua en relación con la identidad, la expresión cultural de las comunidades en la diáspora, la noción del nacionalismo en relación con la expresión cultural, la propagación de la tradición y el valor de la innovación tecnológica y estética, y la importancia de la financiación para el arte en relación con la construcción de la nación (incluida la

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posibilidad de utilizar tal financiación para crear obras subversivas). Concluye con una consideración en torno a la función del cine dentro de una comunidad específica que apunta a asociaciones comparativas con las cinematografías de otras naciones.

Each year, as part of the San Sebastian Film Festival, the Zinemira sidebar, which is co-organized by the festival and the Ministry of Culture of the Basque Govern- ment and supported by the Basque television network EITB, offers a snapshot of the condition of Basque cinema and awards the Premio Irizar and €20,000 to the best Basque film. The 2013 programme featured just eight films, seven of which were documentaries on Basque subjects. These included Alardearen Seme-alabak [Sons and Daughters of the Alarde1] (Eneko Olasagasti and Jone Karres, 2013), which examines the participation of women in the fiesta of Los Alardes in Irun and Hondarribia; Asier eta biok [Asier and I] (Amaia Merino and Aitor Merino, 2013), which explores an enduring friendship between the filmmakers and a childhood friend who became an ETA militant; Encierro (Olivier Van Der Zee, 2013), which is self-explanatory and shot partly in 3D; Esvastica bat Bidasoa [The Basque Swastika] (Alfonso Andrés Ayarza and Javier Barajas, 2013) about the Nazi fascination with Basque culture; and Izenik Gabe, 200x133 [Without Title, 200x133] (Enara Goiko- tetxea and Monika Zumeta, 2013), which studies the working methodology of the Guipuzcoan painter José Luis Zurneta Etxeberria. Documentaries based on personal, local, regional and archival themes dominate because they are inexpensive and comparatively easy to make at a time when the Spanish government has reduced funding for film production from €71 to €50.8 million (compared with €120 million in the UK, €340 million in Germany and €770 million in France), despite a rise in the export of Spanish films in 2012 of 19.2 per cent on 2011, and added a steep hike in the tax on ticket prices, from 8 per cent to 21 per cent as opposed to 7 per cent in France). Documentaries are shot, edited, screened, marketed and most often seen via low- to no-budget digital technologies that create new channels and forms of production and distribution, whether online or as part of resurgent and emergent film societies and festivals enabled by popular demand for relevant, socially conscious audiovisual stimuli and, increasingly, the assumption and acceptance of creative commons licences by audiences and filmmakers respectively. At a time of austerity and growing social unrest, the prevalence of documentaries that provide knowledge, invite reflection and incite debate also broadens the definition of popular filmand Basque cinema in particular. In addition, it should be noted that the Zinemira documentaries are almost all co-directed, which reflects the collective endeavour and collaborative ethos in the arena of filmmaking in the Basque Country and represents a fresh emphasis on the identity of a community that is not just Basque but crucially one that both invites and extends empathy towards similarly sedimented filmmaking cultures around the world. This surge of digital creativity may even resolve decades of argument over whether or not Basque cinema actually exists, in which López Echevarrieta

1 All translations from Basque and Spanish are by the authors. bhs, 93 (2016) Contemporary Basque Cinema: Online, Elsewhere and Otherwise Engaged 1105

(1984), Zunzunegui (1985), Gutiérrez (1994), Lasagabaster (1995), De Pablo (1996; 2012), Roldán Larreta (1999), Stone (2001), Gabilondo (2002), Martí-Olivella (2003), Rodríguez (2002), Davies (2009) and Fernández (2012), among others, have contended with paradox, contradiction and shifts in geographical, political and aesthetic ideas of Basqueness. Compared to Catalan cinema, where the linguistic imperative is more often clear-cut in the films themselves and the recent move towards gallery spaces and art house cinemas by the likes of José Luis Guerín, Albert Serra and Isaki Lacuesta has provided fresh evidence of Catalan enterprise, the definition of Basque cinema remains elusive in its provenance and, in part, deliberately unresolved by a preference for constant redefinition via argument. The origins of filmmaking in the Basque Country are wrapped in the allusions to politicized myth fostered by modern Basque nationalism at the end of the nineteenth century. Basque cinema during the dictatorship was only rendered in fragments, such as the home movies elevated to platforms of a Euskara- speaking national consciousness by the exiled Gotzon Elorza, and the abstract animated films of Ramón de Vargas, Rafael Ruiz Balerdi, Javier Aguirre and José Antonio Sistiaga. It was not until Jorge Oteiza’s essay of 1963, Quousque tandem…! Ensayo de interpretación estética del alma vasca (Oteiza 2007), a rallying cry to artists that resembles a collage by association of art history, existentialism and nationalist rhetoric, that Basque artists of the Gaur group (1965–1967), which included Oteiza, Néstor Basterretxea, José Antonio Sistiaga, Rafael Ruiz Balerdi and sculptor Eduardo Chillida, would seek Basqueness in that which Oteiza posited as ‘Guretzat estetikoki bakarrik sar daitekeen auzi bat da’ (2007: 418) [a question, for us, in which it is only possible to delve aesthetically]. Basterretxea, Ruiz Balerdi and Sisteaga turned to the plasticity of film in order to direct ‘hezkuntza sentimental (sen) honen betetzeko uste oso eta kemen moduko batekin batera’ (Oteiza 2007: 429) [a bounty of conviction and energy to achieve this sentimental (instinctive) education that is so lost from us]. Their resulting short films resembling modernist works include Homenaje a Tarzán (La cazadora inconsciente) (Ruiz Balerdi, 1969), Operación H (Néstor Bastererretxea and Fernando Larruquert, 1964) and Pelotari [Basque Ball Player] (Néstor Bastererretxea and Fernando Larruquert, 1964). The culmination of this endeavour is Ama Lur [Motherland] (Néstor Basterretxea and Fernando Larruquert, 1968), the first full- length Basque film since the Civil War and a visual and aural encyclopaedia of ethnographic detail delivered from a nationalist perspective that was supported by the sentimental rallying of the collective response to the innovative crowdfunding exercise instigated by its makers. Following the dictatorship there were endeavours such as the long-running Ikuska series of documentaries overseen by Antton Ezeiza that explored the repression experienced by the Basque Country and promoted Euskara for use in a new Basque cinema that was beginning to be theorized and put into practice in an uncertain and still fractious socio-political context.2 Films that examined

2 For the Ikuska series (1978–1985) of documentaries overseen by Antton Ezeiza see http:// copac.jisc.ac.uk/id/398030?style=html [accessed 1 September 2016]. 1106 Rob Stone and María Pilar Rodríguez bhs, 93 (2016)

the recent past included three directed by Imanol Uribe: the documentary on the trial of members of ETA in El proceso de Burgos (1979); the docudrama re-enactment of an escape from prison of members of ETA in La fuga de Segovia (1981) and the fictional La muerte de Mikel (1984), which problematized nation-building by inserting the experience of victims of ETA within a mostly one-sided narrative of nationhood. Yet the criteria by which eligibility for funding from the Autonomous Basque Community, which had been granted the status of nationality within Spain by the Spanish Constitution of 1978, was adjudged in the early 1980s included 75 per cent of verifiable Basque nationality among cast and crew and the commitment to shoot on Basque locations. It also allowed films to be shot in Castilian on the condition that a single copy of the finished film should be made available for dubbing into Euskara, which resembled a dismissive concession to those who believed Basque cinema should be in the Basque language. This strategy brought filmmakers such as Pedro Olea back to the Basque Country and was aimed at nurturing films that would educate the domestic audience in foundational myths and entertain the foreign one in matters of Basque heritage. However, this arguably ran aground on the allegorical, even subversive readings of the present that skewed Akelarre [Witches’ Sabbath] (Pedro Olea, 1984), La conquista de Albania (Alfonso Ungría, 1984) and Fuego eterno (José Ángel Rebolledo, 1985), which was produced by Uribe. These big-budget films with non-Basque stars such as Silvia Munt in Akelarre and Ángela Molina in Fuego eterno met with critical disdain and commercial failure but deserve revision (see Stone and Rodríguez 2015). Thereafter, an auteurist stance informed the criteria for funding when Basque-born directors were supported by a new surge of support from the Basque government in the 1990s. Then, Julio Medem, Álex de la Iglesia, Daniel Calpar- soro and Juanma Bajo Ulloa, among others, appeared to lead a new wave of Basque filmmaking that was dissolved into Spanish cinema by the foreign perception of their work and filmmakers’ own dismissal of what might be perceived as a limiting label of Basqueness. Currently, Basque cinema is booming, though not in a way that might be easily noticed. This is because, with a few exceptions, contemporary definitions of Basque cinema must retreat from traditional, commercial circuits and conventional formats and genres in order to enter the open and inclusive arena of filmmaking in the digital era that exhibits a unifying and centrif- ugal sentiment of Basqueness. Contemporary Basque cinema is mostly online, transnational and diasporic and otherwise engaged in activities that do not fit traditional concepts of film. The commercial exceptions are crowd-pleasing comedies with social bite such as the Euskara-language ¡Aupa Etxebeste! [Hooray for Etxebeste!] (Asier Altuna and Telmo Esnal, 2005) and the bittersweet Pagafantas [Friend Zone] (Borja Cobeaga, 2009), which both suffered from unimaginative marketing and poor distribution elsewhere, and the riotous Las brujas de Zugar- ramurdi (Álex de la Iglesia, 2013), which straddles critical and popular audiences with its auteurist mash-up of Basque iconography and comic-book excess. bhs, 93 (2016) Contemporary Basque Cinema: Online, Elsewhere and Otherwise Engaged 1107

Whereas Basque cinema might still be plotted on a sliding scale of exclu- sionist and inclusionist criteria that consider nationalist strategies, individual and collective affiliations, funding criteria and linguistic and cultural initiatives, there is no longer any rigid definition, but a fluid dialogue. For example, critical, industrial and popular perception of Blancanieves, an Andalusian fairytale directed by the Bilbao-born Pablo Berger, 2012; and Las brujas de Zugar- ramurdi, which is heavy with Basque folklore and directed by Bilbao-born De La Iglesia, is informed but not limited by the factors most often cited in the argument over whether Basque cinema actually exists. Limiting is the definition of Basque cinema as one whose films have a common language (Euskara and/or/ without Castilian), or that responds to demands that a percentage of cast and crew should be Basque-born, or that the film must be made within measurable geographical boundaries. Thematic limitations are unhelpful too, moreover, with an emphasis on terrorism being particularly stifling. To the extent that contest between inclusion and exclusion is an artificial yet constantly evolving construct determined by fluctuations in bureaucratic criteria, social trends and legal challenges, any hierarchy of verifiable characteristics is irrelevant to a contemporary Basque cinema that is only partly about the Basque Country and consumed by the audiences who live there, only partly made by Basque-born filmmakers who may work in far-flung areas of the world, only partly in the Basque language and only partly in lieu to the experimentation with a particular aesthetic and film grammar of Basque artists and philosophers. What matters is that all these parts add up to enough films and filmmaking activity by now to realize that Basque cinema is and always has been an impor- tant medium for the analysis and representation of Basque identity. Basque cinema is as buffeted by conflict and social transformations as it is by the impact of new media and linguistic, cultural, propagandist and industrial imperatives. In exploring the oft-contested criteria for the demarcation and promotion of an open, plural and mixed Basque cinema that illustrates many topics of enduring and contemporary debate, this article now proceeds to consider questions of language in relation to identity, the cultural expression of diasporic communities, the tensions between tradition and innovation, and the role of funding and film within a specific community and region that points to comparative associations with other ‘small’ cinemas.

Questions of Language in Relation to Identity The definition and categorization of Basque film has historically been connected to the Basque language. The origins of Basque cinema show that Basque identity was based upon the nationalist ideology configured by Sabino Arana, as can be seen in El Mayorazgo de Basterretxe (Mauro and Viktor Azcona, 1928) which exalts the Basque peasantry for their traditional, rural way of life in contrast to the corruption and vice of urban survival. This silent film is narrated by intertitles, the first of which situates the action: 1108 Rob Stone and María Pilar Rodríguez bhs, 93 (2016)

Tierra vasca. Nido de amor y libertad. Pueblo varonil y soñador. Pueblo eterno. Su alma de acero ha triunfado sobre las avalanchas de la historia. Testimonio ejemplar de culto al pasado defendiendo tenazmente a través de los siglos sus fueros, su lengua y sus costumbres (Mayorazgo de Basterretxe, 1928) Despite the direct allusion to threats to Euskara, the film’s intertitles are in Castilian, which will so dominate dialogue and film titles in the following decades that even films that exalt Euskara will use Castilian to defend it. The aforementioned Ama Lur (1968) constitutes a milestone in the history of Basque cinema because it was an attempt to elaborate Basque identity via a uniquely Basque film grammar. This transposed the aesthetics of the Basque language via camera movement and editing that allowed for the construction of an associative collage positing difference in semiotic chains linking traditions in dress, customs, language, music, art and spirituality. However, Ama Lur’s catalogue of ethnographic details and rhetoric was of limited functionality in the immediate post- Franco years, when censorship was lifted and the need for code erased. Then the heightened debate on the nature of Basque cinema was led by left wing, radical nationalists, who envisaged a cinema committed to the denunciation of the repression of the Basque nation, one that would support the Basque proletariat and be in Euskara. Writing in 1978 following his return to the Basque Country from exile, Antton Ezeiza, producer of the Ikuska series (1978–1985), declared la necesidad de crear, por los medios que sea, un cine Vasco, hablado en nuestro idioma, que sea memoria y vanguardia de nuestra expresion, testimonio de nuestra Historia, e instrumento de nuestro caminar hacia la realidad plena de nuestra identidad, hacia una Euskadi que soñamos independiente, socialista, reunificada y euskaldun. (Qtd. in Roldán Larreta 1997: 131) The definition of an autonomous cinema to which Ezeiza subscribed saw documentaries become the privileged option, since they were thought to provide a more realistic portrayal of the experience of the Basque working class and those produced in these years include the suggestively titled Betiko borroka [Never-Ending Fight] (Xabier Zelaiaundi, 1979), A la vuelta del grito [Beyond the Screams] (Helena Lumbreras, 1977), Ikurrinaz filmea [Basque Flag Film] (Juan Bernardo Heinink, 1977), Arrantzale [Fisherman] (Antton Merikaetxebarria, 1975), Ez: centrales nucleares [No: Nuclear Power Stations] (Imanol Uribe, 1977), Euskal Herri Musika [Basque Music] (Fernando Larruquert, 1978) and Euskara eta kirola [Basque Language and Sports] (Antton Ezeiza and Koldo Izagirre, 1980), among others. Many of these films were aimed at recuperating the Basque heritage that had been deleted or rewritten under Francoism and the most representative examples are Irrintzi [Shout] (Mirentxu Loyarte, 1978), Estado de excepción (Iñaki Núñez, 1977) and El proceso de Burgos, as well as the Ikuska series (1978–1985). Thus, the future of Basque cinema was conceived as one which would progressively incorporate Euskara as filmmakers and audiences became more fluent in the now freely taught and spoken Basque language. A significant number of films were made in Euskara in the following decades, but the boom of the 1990s occurred when filmmakers such as Montxo bhs, 93 (2016) Contemporary Basque Cinema: Online, Elsewhere and Otherwise Engaged 1109

Armendáriz, Enrique Urbizu, Helena Taberna, Arantza Lazcano, Julio Medem, Pablo de la Iglesia, Daniel Calparsoro and Juanma Bajo Ulloa made films in Castilian that drew Spanish and foreign audiences and garnered international awards. Thus, the success of Basque cinema was modulated by the inaudibility of the Basque language, as well as by the reluctance of some of these filmmakers to be labelled Basque and by oscillations in public policy regarding funding for Basque productions. The tendency after the 1990s is to consider as Basque a film by a Basque-born director or produced by a Basque company, which guides the selection criteria for funding of Kimuak, for example, the government-funded scheme to promote the production of short films. Yet Kimuak has become less restrictive, requiring that the film’s director only lives or has lived in the Auton- omous Basque Community for at least a year or that the production company should be located there, which allowed for Cantabria-born Nacho Vigalondo, for example, to direct Kimuak’s Oscar-nominated 7:35 de la mañana (2003). As debated over the years (see Amigo 1983; Gutiérrez 1994; Rodríguez 2002; Roldán Larreta 1999; Torrado 2009 and Zunzunegui 1985, among others), the role of the Basque language, the birthplace of filmmakers, the location of production companies and reference to Basque iconography are the most representative criteria in the debate over Basque cinema; but that tug of war has lost relevance in recent years when new filmmakers enabled by digital technologies have simply let go of the rope. As the producer Ángel Amigo has stated: ‘Establecer una definición fija y excluir ́mecanicamente lo que no encaja en ella implica olvidar su historia, olvidar sus circunstancias y negar lo que de nuevo aportará su vida futura’ (qtd. in Roldán Larreta 1999: 50). Thus, a more inclusive, transnational, hybrid formula of Basque cinema can presently be perceived in which Euskara is just one language of choice both at home and abroad, while English is often privileged by directors of Basque origin living and working in the United States, for instance, whose diasporic activities still count as and result in Basque cinema.

The Cultural Expression of Diasporic Communities Transnational filmmaking is an inherent component of Basque history, which is marked by mobility, exile and displacement. The majority of films produced and promoted by the Basque government during the Civil War were made in Paris between 1937 and 1939. During the dictatorship, exiled Basque nationalists used film to assert national identity and screenings to facilitate social activity. More recently, Basque diasporic filmmaking has been notable where exiled and immigrant Basques of several generations have organized themselves into communities in Latin America and the United States. A diasporic community is a transnational people whose members have left their place of birth and live in more than one different host country but maintain links with their homeland. Yet the idea of host cultures as homogenizing and immigrant ones as separatist has been surpassed because cultures are now highly interconnected and the 1110 Rob Stone and María Pilar Rodríguez bhs, 93 (2016)

concept of a single uniform culture, characterized by social homogenization, ethnic consolidation and intercultural delimitation is no longer valid (Welsch 1999: 194). Ideas of interculturalism and multiculturalism are also rejected since, despite the intentions underlying such concepts, they still proceed from the existence of clearly distinguished cultures, whereas hybridization, intercon- nectedness and mutual interaction are the norm (1999: 196). While political discourse often ignores the supranational dimension of contemporary societies, contemporary filmmakers both within and beyond the Basque Country are addressing the shift from the national to the transnational that has taken place worldwide to the extent that recent films from the Basque diaspora challenge and redefine these political discourses through a sophisticated intersection of issues of gender, class, family ties, cultural identity and a sense of belonging that resembles an élan vital. Diasporic cinema is marked by its vertical relationship to the homeland and by its lateral relationship to the communities and experiences of the diaspora (Naficy 2001: 15). Recent documentaries include Ipuinak kontatu: The Basque Way [Telling Stories: The Basque Way] (Emily Lobsenz, 2012), which explores Basque cultural history and considers its preservation as it observes the alternants of tradition and innovation through the lives of five Basques; Artzainak: Shepherds and Sheep (Jacob Griswold and Javi Zubizarreta, 2011), which studies the hardships endured by immigrant shepherds in the hills of Idaho; and Guk [We] (Nuria Vialta Renobale, 2011) about the Basque community in Argentina. Basque Hotel (Josu Venero, 2011) is a road movie, a classic American genre-vehicle, about a group of writers whose connection to the United States is located within the history of Basque emigration from their first appearance in North America to their dialogue with American culture in the twenty-first century. This concern with diasporic communities also inspired the animated feature To Say Goodbye (Matt Richards, 2012), which illustrates the experiences of some of the 4,000 refugee Basque children who fled to England during the Spanish Civil War and remained there, while Amaren ideia [Mum’s Idea] (Maider Oleaga, 2010) follows three now aged former refugees as they return to their Basque homeland from Mexico. The film exposes the painful but necessary negotiations between past and present that are experienced by displaced people, just as Zuretzako [For You] (Javi Zubizarreta, 2011) explores the experiences of the director’s grandfather as a shepherd in the United States. All these films examine transformations of Basque identity based upon the theoretical construction of the diaspora, thereby exposing the contradictions that are inherent in interactions between different ideological and political constructions. Many of these films investigate the realm of the family by tracing the past of older characters while exposing the need of their descendants to reconnect and rediscover the Basque land they either left behind or never knew. This stimulates young filmmakers who have been born elsewhere but feela strong connection to the land of their ancestors to become enquiring documen- tarists and filmmakers. Transculturality should be contemplated not only on bhs, 93 (2016) Contemporary Basque Cinema: Online, Elsewhere and Otherwise Engaged 1111 the macro-cultural level, but also on the individual’s micro level since multiple cultural connections are decisive in the hybrid formation of individuals (Welsch 1999: 198). The director of Zuretzako, Javi Zubizarreta, exemplifies thisawareness: We keep a close contact with uncles, aunts, cousins, friends. And traveling to the Basque Country today is not a journey back in time, but a flight or a series of flights away. I keep in touch with my cousin in Bilbao through Facebook the same way I talk to a friend here in the city. And of course, I grew up in Boise, Idaho surrounded by a strong Basque community. So for me, Basque culture has always been a mix of past, present, and future. It’s always been an easy, natural part of my life. I grew up in a place and with a community where I could easily be an American-Basque or a Basque-American. That hyphen was never an either/or distinction, but a simple conjunction. Nor did the order of words really matter. It’s who I am. So it very naturally became a part of my work in film. (Interview with Rob Stone and María Pilar Rodríguez, January 2014) Zuretzako is a North American production from a North American director shot entirely in Euskara. It revisits traditional subjects of the Basque diaspora (immigration and sheep herding in America) and it constructs its discourse via a subjective, even autobiographical reworking of the most representative Basque elements and iconography (music, landscapes, sports, portraits and language). As with most films from the Basque diaspora, this oscillation between the macro narratives of exile from ‘old’ communities and belonging to ‘new’ diasporic ones questions the possibility of a homogeneous culture being located in any fixed land. In sum and substance, they portray a hybrid experience in which languages, events and territories encounter constant interaction and negotia- tion that give rise to a need and an ability to document and express the tensions that emerge between the point of origin and current locations, between the community and the host nation, between tradition and innovation, which is also the context and subject of the strategized boom in making short films in contemporary Basque cinema.

Tradition and Innovation The boom that began in the 1990s with which Basque cinema is often identified went bust when the bubble of confidence was burst by the reception afforded the documentary La pelota vasca. La piel contra la piedra (Julio Medem, 2003). Medem was then the leading, self-styled auteur with the most potential for success on the international art house circuit, but his commitment to the creation of a cinematic dialogue that referenced Ama Lur and might contribute to the resolu- tion of conflict over the Basque Country (and cement a role for Basque cinema in its development) was met with controversy and spite, which suddenly rendered him non-Basque on account of not speaking Euskara, for example, and therefore unqualified to intervene. Since then, despite his Lucía y el sexo (2001) being the first high-definition digital feature ever made in Spain, Medem has managed only two full-length films that barely surfaced in either domestic or interna- 1112 Rob Stone and María Pilar Rodríguez bhs, 93 (2016)

tional markets, while the fortunes of his ‘generation’ have also wavered. Bajo Ulloa (Alas de mariposa, 1991) is focused on documentaries and video clips, while Calparsoro (Salto al vacío, 1995) has made generic thrillers such as Invasor (2012) featuring Bourne-like car chases, and Combustión (2013) with its The Fast and The Furious-tropes, that have yet to crack the international market. De la Iglesia retains a high profile, but the baton of filmmaking ingenuity in the Iberian penin- sular has largely returned to the art house, been passed to gallery spaces and, as far as international audiences are aware, been picked up by Catalan filmmakers such as Guerín, Lacuesta, Serra, Elena Trapé and Mar Coll. Yet aesthetic and technological innovations are apparent in new filmmaking initiatives in the Basque Country that have little to do with traditional viewing practices. The e-cartelera website displaying the schedules of cinemas in Bilbao lists seven cinemas, but four of those links – now in ghostly grey – are dead, including that for the Renoir Deusto of the national art house chain.3 Nevertheless, at a recent event organized by the Cineclub FAS, the oldest film society in Spain, which plays to capacity audiences every Tuesday evening in a downtown church hall, a showcase of Basque short films and documentaries had little in common except a sense of collective endeavour and a sentiment of collaborative Basqueness that meant the filmmakers participating in the following Q&A agreed on three key things: that none of them were making films to make money, that they were not even certain if what they were making were ‘films’ and that whatever it was they were making was the kind of thing they watched. Kindred initiatives include a plethora of crowdfunding strategies and the website cinevasco.com,4 as well as the phenomena of resurgent film clubs, filmmaking competitions and festivals sprouting up in localities and online, as well as the Euskal Bobinak (Basque film awards) initiated by Alain Xalabarde in Bilbao in 2012. Examining all this off-circuit activity does not provide any restrictive definition of Basque cinema to which filmmakers, academics and audiences may subscribe; but close observation reveals a billiard break of whatever passes for Basque cinema. The metaphor of the billiard break is apt because contemporary Basque cinema can be seen from numerous angles emanating from a specific geographical point and resulting in diverse trajectories. Its impact creates arguments for its recognition in terms of industry, community, politics, art and sentiment, but its disparity also insists that ideas of Basque cinema will always be mobile, especially when being streamed and shared amidst the white noise of the Internet. As mentioned, short films are traditional vehicles within Basque cinema for exploring complex issues of Basque citizenship, sentiment, identity – and the Internet, which serves brief attention spans, is their natural environment. The name Kimuak, meaning buds, suits a scheme that originated in 1998 during the annual, week-long festival of fantasy and horror films in San Sebastian, whose sidebar short film competition was inundated with quality entries. Directed

3 Available at: http://www.ecartelera.com/cines/0,50,28.html [accessed 31 August 2016]. 4 Available at: www.cinevasco.com [accessed 31 August 2016]. bhs, 93 (2016) Contemporary Basque Cinema: Online, Elsewhere and Otherwise Engaged 1113 by Txema Muñoz since 2002, the Kimuak scheme has become internationally recognized: ‘El programa Kimuak (‘brotes’ en euskera), puesto en marcha desde el País Vasco en 1998, fue el primero de todos. Su experiencia pionera ha sido, además, un modelo a seguir tanto para el resto de las comunidades autónomas como para las diferentes empresas privadas que se han constituido con las mismas funciones’ (Yáñez 2010: 179). In 2005 Kimuak became part of the Basque Film Institute as a non-profit enterprise funded by the Department of Culture of the Basque Government and its objectives are the promotion, dissemination and distribution of short films and the career progression of their makers. Each March the scheme invites submissions from filmmakers and in July an independent panel of audiovisual professionals selects the ten or so works for the annual Kimuak catalogue that guarantees international distribution and prestige, as well as subtitling in at least four languages (English, French, Italian and German) in addition to Castilian when the film is in Euskara and vice versa. The catalogue of shorts is screened in September alongside the San Sebastian International Film Festival and thereafter the shorts tend to have a life of their own, winning prizes and finding new audiences many years after their making. The short films in the 1998–2013 editions of Kimuak resist categorization and classification, offering instead hybridization of tradition and innovation via genres, languages and aesthetics. Although very few reclaim the spirit of Basque heritage cinema, Hauspo soinua [The Sound of the Bellows] (Inaz Fernández, 2000) tells the story of a child who is left with his grandparents for a few days during which he discovers a traditional way of life that is nostalgically recreated. Mostly, the short films respond to a mix of horror, fantasy and comedy genres. The ‘punchline’ of the comedy short has proven particularly successful in terms of the international and online dissemination of 40 ezetz [40 Says No] (Asier Altuna and Telmo Esnal, 1999), La primera vez (Borja Cobeaga, 2001), Topeka [Ram Fight] (Asier Altuna, 2002), 7.35 de la mañana (Nacho Vigalondo, 2003), Choque (Nacho Vigalondo, 2005), Éramos pocos [One Too Many] (Borja Cobeaga, 2005), Amona Putz! [The Inflatable Grandma] (Telmo Esnal, 2009), Artalde [Flock of Sheep] (Asier Altuna, 2010) and Un novio de mierda (Borja Cobeaga, 2010), with special mention due the Oscar nomination for 7.35 de la mañana. Their success has ensured graduation to full-length features for Vigalondo (Extraterrestre, 2011), Cobeaga (Pagafantas), and Altuna and Esnal (¡Aupa Etxebeste!). Moreover, in a sharp break with tradition, these short and full-length films all mock masculinity and satirize Basque traditions that reflect socio-cultural norms. They therefore invite a reconsidera- tion of contemporary Basque identity, particularly in relation to gender roles, familial traditions and social structures, via parody and satire, which depend on the recognition of traditional notions of masculinity and the normative structures that these maintain, thereby questioning, even subverting such underlying structures to offer a reconfigured vision of the Basque community. These films are revisionist, but not destructive, even when the male protagonist is beaten, symbolically castrated, humiliated and made aware of his irrelevance. In Topeka a ram-fight inspires its male audience to head butt each other sense- 1114 Rob Stone and María Pilar Rodríguez bhs, 93 (2016)

less, in 7.35 de la mañana a lovestruck psychopath stages a Hollywood number in a café before blowing himself up with a bag of confetti, and in Éramos pocos the pretence of a family unit is maintained in order to disguise the basic useless- ness of the male members (pun intended). All three and others see masculinity as a performance within a system demarcated by familial and social roles and their blatant sacrifice of myths of masculinity is a curative practice that deploys the social pleasure of humour to alert an audience to the imprisoning terms of cultural expectations. They thus exemplify the strategy by which comedy often plays with a ‘sense that someone has known our expectations well enough to spring a surprise on us, and one that knocks us off balance not to take advantage but only to provoke our gleeful rebound: a treat, not a threat, and an affirmation of our shared understanding’ (Boyd 2004: 12). The films revisit a series of myths, symbols, traditions and sports associated with the Basque Country to question blind adherence to tradition, which is in some cases represented as absurd. 40 ezetz, for example, essays the traditional Basque pastime of aggressive betting on oxen dragging a rock; yet the plot about cloning champion oxen goes against the claims of singularity and particularity which have been associated in discourses of patriotism that exalt the unique- ness of Basque history, language and identity. The key theme in all these films is the contemporary incongruity of the performance of tradition, as exemplified by Artalde, which follows a happy shepherd through the streets of downtown Bilbao as he gathers human followers, only to stumble into conflict and confu- sion when confronted by younger shepherds with their own human flocks. As a cautionary tale of foolish adherence to leaders without any sense of direction, the film creates a roadblock of tradition with innovation, of the old Basque and the new, that is characteristically sweet and sourly funny.

The Role of Funding and Film Within a Specific Community and Region The Donostia Zinemaldia, world-renowned as the San Sebastian International Film Festival, began in 1953 and turned 60 in 2012. As a beacon for interest in filmmaking the festival has maintained its community appeal while welcoming filmmakers from around the globe. The first International Film Week was organized by local merchants with the purpose of finding a creative solution for the city, which they were afraid people considered ‘pretty, expensive and boring’ (Tuduri 1992: 15). Yet in addition to its international profile, the festival has also created a sense of community among locals by allowing local audiences during and following the dictatorship to see representations of the Basque nation and it is a huge attraction for donostiarras, who every year queue for hours to attend screenings. In 2013 the record number of spectators (160,000) surpassed even the record set in 2012 (157,000) and the festival’s status as a beacon for Basque cinema is uniquely assured because its future is contrastingly not under threat. Otherwise, funding for Basque cinema has fallen a long way from the investment in film production established by the Autonomous Basque Community in the bhs, 93 (2016) Contemporary Basque Cinema: Online, Elsewhere and Otherwise Engaged 1115 early 1980s, which began with 10 million pesetas for La fuga de Segovia. This investment was linked to the creation of Euskal Telebista in December 1982 and the Proyecto de Ley de la Cinematografía of February 1983 that enabled a norma- tiva designed to support Basque-based production companies that promised to make ‘materia exportable’ (López Echevarrieta 2006: 74) in return for 25 per cent of their budgets a fondo perdido (i.e. non-returnable or sunken funds). This deal was backed by the Asociación Independiente de Productores Vascos (est. 1984) and agreements with the new Basque television network Euskal Telebista covering broadcast and commercialization (Unsain 1985: 43). As described, this strategy also limited the role of Euskara and resulted in copies of films that were linguistically mongrel such as that of Pedro Olea’s Akelarre, which is held by the Basque Film Institute and was screened in September 2013 at the Hyde Park Picture House in Leeds as part of the Screening European Heritage research project run by the universities of Leeds and Birmingham in the UK.5 Akelarre was shot in Castilian, partly because of concerns over distribution within Spain and Latin America and the casting of Catalan actress Silvia Munt in the main role, but then dubbed into Euskara for political, cultural, archival and contractual purposes. This copy (not the original Castilian version) was then subtitled in English in order to opportunis- tically marry the exoticism of a Basque-language feature with accessibility for foreign festivals and critics. As a policy designed to nurture that which Jaume Martí-Olivella calls ‘foundational films’ (2003: 13), this experiment in funding and defining Basque cinema for the newly Autonomous Basque Community stumbled both at home and abroad. The policy was curtailed and financing for Basque-language features was redirected towards medium-length films for Euskal Telebista based on contemporary Basque novels. Following this, succes- sive policies of the Basque and Spanish governments have dizzied screen and distribution quotas, warped sliding scales of subsidies and argued the respon- sibilities of regional and national, public and private television networks. The generation of filmmakers that would be associated with Basque cinema in the 1990s was only briefly favoured by subsidies from the Basque government before support was directed to fewer, more commercial projects under the auspices of a new limited company called Euskal Media, which promised a return on the investment of public money but meant the problematic use of public funds for private enterprise. In recent years, financial support for filmmaking continues to be reduced and Basque films with commercial ambitions struggle to define themselves as co-productions, transnational ventures or synergetic media strategies with television deals. The effect of the Spanish government’s reduction of funding for film production to just €50,8 million and the increase in tax on ticket prices to 21 per cent has arguably resulted in the aforementioned closure of cinemas and the migration of audiences to online and community ventures. Nevertheless, in a country where DVDs and Blu-rays are absurdly expensive and piracy is so

5 See http://arts.leeds.ac.uk/screeningeuropeanheritage/network/ [accessed 31 August 2016]. 1116 Rob Stone and María Pilar Rodríguez bhs, 93 (2016)

rife that Netflix has surrendered its plans to introduce its online system of film rentals, the initiative of Euskal Telebista to provide free, streaming films online in Euskara (both dubbed and original versions) is a linguistic strategy rather than a boost to the filmmakers.6 Nevertheless, the most creative filmmaking activity is presently online, cheap to make and free to watch. Bypassing competi- tive funding, traditional screening venues and, to a large extent, the attention of critics and any quantifiable audience, this activity still counts as Basque cinema. Moreover, at a time when funding for the arts, education and public services is being cut back, funding initiatives by the Basque government still surface such as that in December 2012, which announced the channelling of €260,000 to special grants for cultural initiatives in Euskara that included a subsidy of €60,000 to the Sociedad Festival Internacional de Cine de Donostia San Sebastián in order to boost Basque language filmmaking in the Basque Country. There was also another much-needed €60,000 for the Basque Film Institute. This consideration of the function and worth of the cinema within the Basque Country and, indeed, within any community or region stumbles when industry, state funding, linguistic dogmatism and protectionism is demanded, but contemporary Basque cinema still responds to the link between cultural representation and the identity of the nation that follows Tim Bergfelder’s appraisal of European cinema in demanding questioning of the ‘cultural essen- tialism that informs many definitions of national cinemas’ (2005: 131). Political economy, industrial structure and audience demographics remain valid indica- tors of the viability of Basque cinema. Yet the appeal to the European Union made by supporters of the Plan Ibarretxe prompts the question of whether Basque cinema might be usefully conceptualized as a European cinema rather than as a ‘national’ cinema or a ‘regional’ cinema within Spain. This context of change is so great that within current global contexts of filmmaking and film- watching Basque cinema is being transformed at the commercial level, where the prevailing economic model has fostered international co-productions and transnational distribution agreements, and in the online environment, which has enabled those making short features and documentaries in the Basque Country with the aid of hosting sites, editing programmes and the interest of logged-on audiences. Indeed, these latest configurations of Basque cinema have allowed for the recognition of commonalities along a layer of economic sedimentation common to many areas of the globe.

Comparative Associations with Other ‘Small’ Cinemas Festivals and seasons of Basque films have recently played in Barcelona, Birming ham, Frankfurt, Mexico City, Warsaw, Puerto Monte in Chile, Posadas in Argentina and Salto in Uruguay. It is not merely that new means of production, distribution and reception are enabling Basque films to be seen. It also suggests that the concept of citizenship, which defines a people as those with ‘common political, legal, social

6 See http://www.eitb.com/eu/kultura/zinema-euskaraz/ [accessed 31 August 2016]. bhs, 93 (2016) Contemporary Basque Cinema: Online, Elsewhere and Otherwise Engaged 1117 and economic obligations and rights and a shared idea of itself as a subject with a separate historical, cultural and even linguistic identity’ (Fehimovi´c 2016), loses importance when films are shared, traded and possibly lost amidst the Internet. On the other hand, the relatively unregulated dissemination of ideas beyond any legislative control has meant that what might be theorized as Basque cinema is not autonomous in relation to Spain or the rest of the world, but a platform upon which to perform ideas of nationhood that extend and invite empathy in response to postcolonial and/or transnational contexts where such sentiments might be integral to ideological sustenance. Instead of seeking a binding definition that determines a film’s inclusion or exclusion within funding schemes, festivals, catalogues, popular canon and academic texts, contemporary Basque cinema validates instability, plurality and relativity in the description of modern Basque identity. Recent Basque cinema has provided, for example, sensitive illus- trations of the economic downturn in the Basque Country in ¡Aupa Etxebeste!, reconciliation with its violent past in Asier eta biok, the disaffection of its youth in Pagafantas and Zuloak [Holes] (Fermín Muguruza, 2012), male homosexuality and rural deprivation in Ander (Roberto Castón, 2009) and lesbianism and old age in 80 egunean [For Eighty Days] (Jon Garaño and José María Goenaga, 2010). This last film’s participation in international festivals included San Sebastian, of course, but also Karlovy Vary, Montreal, London BFI, Cairo, Chicago, Cleve- land, Palm Springs, Dublin, Säo Paulo, Nantes, Tudela and Guadalajara, as well as, crucially, the Czech Gay and Lesbian Film Festival and the Milan Interna- tional Lesbian and Gay Film Festival, where it won the Main Jury and Grand Jury awards for best film respectively. Shot and distributed in Euskara, 80 egunean is an exploration of everyday difference that is also a vindication of universality, which is distinct from homogeneity. It recounts the reunion of two now aged childhood friends, the independent, reflective Maite (Mariasun Pagoagoa) and the introverted, unquestioning Axun (Itziar Aizpuru). The language used by the protagonists does not obscure their meaning; instead, like their being old and gay, it adds detail, nuance, colour and shading to a story of self-determination that illustrates moral questions and deeper needs. Whereas dubbing would erase difference, the use of Euskara with subtitles acknowledges and underlines but ultimately disables it. 80 egunean is in many senses a mature film that is emblematic of contemporary Basque cinema because it is not about any restrictive criteria relative to being aged, gay or Basque, but about universal themes of love, hope, regret and renewal. Socio-political correspondence between communities in Europe and elsewhere is becoming more evident because films still function as prisms or frameworks for analysis of wider issues. The frequent mailshots of cinevasco.com and the Cineclub FAS7 attest to the fact that many screenings, festivals and symposia are taking place away from the commercial circuit at a time when industrial traditions are in decay. Despite or because of this, Basque cinema is a species

7 See http://www.cineclubfas.com [accessed 31 August 2016]. 1118 Rob Stone and María Pilar Rodríguez bhs, 93 (2016)

in rapid evolution and currently enjoying a growth spurt represented by online activity, the Kimuak initiative, animation, documentary, street-level filmmaking and community screening activities that illustrate the notion that communities within Europe (and elsewhere) would not have to be racially or politically determined if their understanding and expression of citizenship were based on an empathy comprising shared emotions, experiences and knowledge of economic and social equivalence with other communities (Sørenson 2003). This empathy may be seen in documentaries, short films, online ephemera and features that perform the role of carrier for the narrative of Basque nationhood, although not without questioning the conventions, iconography and repercussions that come from believing in the social and political role of a national cinema. In their Trojan horse guise as comedies, ¡Aupa Etxebeste! and Pagafantas still express how it feels to be living at a time when everything appears to be commoditized, when the evolution of the EU has resulted in entrenchment on the part of the most powerful nations as well as the sedimentation of the often jobless proletariat alongside displaced and migrant communities. However, these individuals and communities are also more liable to discover affinities with these ‘Others’ on the same sub-strata of economic sedimentation in other parts of the world via new media, which includes the possibility of coordinating an international sentiment of resistance, than they are to share citizenship with their ‘host’ nations. New screen technologies allow people to resist the homogeneity of globalization and transcend the heterogeneity of localism. The creative strategy of seeking funding, collaborators and audiences beyond the nation-state is an illustration of how ‘very active subnational, regional movements [such as Northern Italy, Wales and the Basque Country] seek to achieve a special status for their communities’ (Sørenson 2003: 93). Contemporary Basque cinema also highlights the importance of regionalism to ‘a resistance identity: generated by those actors that are in positions/ condi- tions devalued and/or stigmatized by the logic of domination, thus building trenches of resistance and survival on the basis of principles’ (Castells 1998: 8). If the main principle of a community is that it should ‘satisfy needs and provide bonding via rituals’ (Sørenson 2003: 101), then such rituals might be making, watching and discussing films. Although the latter activities may not neces- sarily involve screenings of Basque films, the post-screening debates at Bilbao’s Cineclub FAS, for example, whose 2013 programme was nonetheless characterized by the frequency of Basque films, documentaries and shorts, arguably still fulfil the need to, firstly, express and debate the Basque view of the world and, secondly, to enjoy a dialogue with other viewpoints offered by films from many parts of that shared world. The Basque Country, its history, politics and art may still be expected to provide Basque cinema with the nationality of its protagonists, its locations, themes, aesthetics and common language (whether it be Spanish, Basque, both or others, such as the English learned by Basque exiles in America) without limiting its universality. This combination of regionalism with universalism is a powerful means bhs, 93 (2016) Contemporary Basque Cinema: Online, Elsewhere and Otherwise Engaged 1119 of identity and association with other cinemas of ‘small’ nations at a time of transformations in national identities, which returns pressure on home governments and local communities to become more relevant and possibly even antag- onistic towards each other. In Spain, where one might make the case for Basque and Catalan cinema and hear that of Galician and even Andalusian cinema too, the notion of ‘Spanish’ cinema does not elide internal tensions, as when the selection of the Catalan language Pa negre [Black Bread] (Agustí Villaronga, 2010) by the Spanish Film Academy for consideration by the American Film Academy in the category of the award for Best Foreign Language Film prompted debate over the nationality of a film that was only diffused by its final lack of nomination. One awaits the first Oscar nomination for a Basque film with interest.

An End to the Beginning of Basque Cinema San Sebastian is not the only place in the Basque Country to host a film festival. There is also the Muestra Internacional de Cine y Mujeres in Pamplona, Punto de Vista: Festival Internacional de Cine Documental de Navarra, the Festival Internacional de Cine de Animación de Basauri in April, Zinebi: Festival Inter- nacional de Cine Documental y Cortometraje de Bilbao in November, and the Festival de Cine Ópera Prima Ciudad de Tudela in Pamplona in the autumn, as well as several online festivals and original events that have quickly established themselves. Perhaps the most engaging is the emblematic Festival Cine Express in Portugalete that celebrated its fifth anniversary in 2013. This is a hands-on festival, a guerrilla party and a celebration of ingenuity and guile that sees dozens of teams plot short films on a surprise theme, shoot them in at least three local settings, edit and screen them within ten hours on a single day in June. The festival rejects traditional means of distribution and ignores the emphasis on commercial recompense. Instead it captures a zeitgeist of mischie- vous creativity in the face of economic crises, corrupt media and contempt for politics. It responds to indebted nations having to steal the savings of its people, youth unemployment adding up to a lost generation, the collapse of welfare, the privatization of education and the replacing of an expectation that governments would regulate banks with the realization that banks now regulate governments – with exuberant existentialism. As the official website declares: ‘Para participar, no hace falta ser profesional ni tener ningún conocimiento técnico en especial, sólo poner las ganas, la creatividad y la capacidad de experi- mentación para construir una historia’.8 Sponsored by local businesses as well as the Basque Government and the local council of the post-industrial Portugalete district of Bilbao, the 2013 festival was a riot of creativity, where the free public screening started at 8 pm and the 30 teams – 130 members altogether – applauded every short as much as the eventual winner of the €1,000 prize: Si no puedes con el enemigo … acaba con él (2013) made by the four-man team of T-Rec. A Tarantinoesque rampage on a sunny day, the

8 See http://festivalcineexpress.com [accessed 31 August 2016]. 1120 Rob Stone and María Pilar Rodríguez bhs, 93 (2016)

film is a macho frolic with a body count that takes care of all the other competi- tors in the festival and a postmodern dénouement in which the sole surviving T-Rec stroll into an empty hall to collect their uncontested prize.9 Definitions of what constitutes Basque cinema will never keep pace with what is happening right this minute in the Basque Country, where adventures such as Festival Cine Express attest to how digital technologies have enabled an optimistic and collaborative ethos of creativity that sees contemporary Basque cinema at its best when, despite or because of the postmodern irony of its champion film, hand-held and holding hands.

Works Cited

Amigo, Ángel, 1983. ‘Por qué un cine vasco’, Diario 16, 132 (in Disidencias – suplemento cultural) (Madrid), 26 June. Bergfelder, Tim, 2005. ‘The Nation Vanishes: European Co-productions and Popular Genre Formulae in the 1950s and 1960s’, in Cinema and Nation, ed. Mette Hjort and Scott MacKenzie (London: Routledge), pp. 139–52. Boyd, Brian, 2004. ‘Laughter and Literature: A Play Theory of Humor’, Philosophy and Literature, 28.1 (April): 1–22. Castells, Manuel, 1998. The Power of Identity (Oxford: Basil Blackwell). Davies, Ann, 2009. ‘Woman and Home: Gender and the Theorisation of Basque (National) Cinema’, Journal of Spanish Cultural Studies, 10.3: 359–72. De Pablo, Santiago, 1996. Cien años de cine en el País Vasco (Vitoria-Gasteiz: Arabako Foru Aldundia). —, 2012. The Basque Nation on Screen. Cinema, Nationalism and Political Violence (Reno: University of Nevada, Center for Basque Studies). Fernández, Joxean, 2012. Euskal zinema/ Cine vasco/ Basque Film (Donostia: Etxepare Basque Insti- tute). Gabilondo, Joseba, 2002. ‘Uncanny Identity: Violence, Gaze and Desire in Contemporary Basque Cinema’, in Constructing Identity in Contemporary Spain: Theoretical Debates and Cultural Practice, ed. Jo Labanyi (Oxford: Oxford University Press), pp. 262–79. Gutiérrez, Juan Miguel, 1994. ‘Euskal Zinea/ Cine Vasco’, RIEV: Revista Internacional de Estudios Vascos, 2.39 (Donostia: Eusko Ikaskuntza): 277–95. Lasagabaster, Jesús María, 1995. ‘The Promotion of Cultural Production in Basque’, in Spanish Cultural Studies: An Introduction, ed. Helen Graham and Jo Labanyi (Oxford: Oxford University Press), pp. 351–55. López Echavarrieta, Alberto, 1984. Cine vasco de ayer a hoy: época sonora (Bilbao: Mensajero). —, 2006. El cine de Pedro Olea. 51 semana internacional del cine. Valladolid: Semana Internacional de Cine de Valladolid). Martí-Olivella, Jaume, 2003. Basque Cinema: An Introduction (Reno: University of Nevada, Center for Basque Studies). Naficy, Hamid, 2001. An Accented Cinema: Exilic and Diasporic Filmmaking (Princeton, NJ, and Oxford: Princeton University Press). Oteiza, Jorge, 2007. ‘¡Quousque tandem…! Ensayo de interpretación estética del alma vasca’, ed. Amador Vega with Jon Echeverria Plazaola. (Alzuza: Fundación Museo Oteiza Fundazio Museoa). [Online.] Available at: http://www.museooteiza.org/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/ FMJO-Quousque-Tandem1.pdf [accessed 23 October 2013]. Rodríguez, María Pilar, 2002. Mundos en conflicto: aproximaciones al cine vasco de los noventa (San Sebastian: Universidad de Deusto, Filmoteca Vasca). Roldán Larreta, Carlos, 1997. ‘Antton Ezeiza en el debate cine-euskera’, Fontes Linguae Vasconum, 74 (Pamplona: Gobierno de Navarra. Institución Príncipe de Viana): 129–42.

9 See http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WxA_Jk8IoMg [accessed 31 August 2016]. bhs, 93 (2016) Contemporary Basque Cinema: Online, Elsewhere and Otherwise Engaged 1121

—, 1999. El cine del País Vasco: de Ama Lur (1968) a Airbag (1997) (Donostia: Eusko Ikaskuntza). Sørenson, Georg, 2003. The Transformation of the State: Beyond the Myth of Retreat (Basingstoke, UK: Palgrave Macmillan). Stone, Rob, 2001. Spanish Cinema (Harlow, UK: Longman). Stone, Rob, and María Pilar Rodríguez, 2015. Basque Cinema: A Cultural and Political History (London: I. B. Tauris). Torrado, Susana, 2009. El cine vasco en la bibliografía cinematográfica (1968–2007) (Bilbao: Universidad de Deusto). Tuduri, José Luis, 1992. San Sebastián: un festival, una historia (1967–1977) (San Sebastian: Filmoteca Vasca). Unsain, José María, 1985. Hacia un cine vasco (San Sebastian: Arabako Foru Aldundia). Welsch, Wolfgang, 1999. ‘Transculturality. The Puzzling Form of Cultures Today’, in Spaces of Culture: City, Nation, Work, ed. Mike Featherstone and Scott Lash (London: Sage), pp. 194–213. Yáñez, Jara (ed.), 2010. La medida de los tiempos: el cortometraje español en la década de los 2000 (Madrid: Comunidad de Madrid, Festival de Cine de Alcalá de Henares). Zunzunegui, Santos, 1985. El cine en el País Vasco: historia, práctica, teoría (Leioa: Universidad del País Vasco).

Filmography

7.35 de la mañana. 2003, dir. Nacho Vigalondo. 40 ezetz [40 Says No]. 1999, dir. Asier Altuna and Telmo Esnal (Alokatu). 80 egunean [For Eighty Days]. 2010, dir. Jon Garaño and José María Goenaga. Akelarre [Witches’ Sabbath]. 1984, dir. Pedro Olea (C. B. Films). Alardearen Seme-alabak [Sons and Daughters of the Alarde]. 2013, dir. Eneko Olasagasti and Jone Karres. A la vuelta del grito [Beyond the Screams]. 1977, dir. Helena Lumbreras. Alas de mariposa. 1991, dir. Juanma Bajo Ulloa (Golem Distribución; Facets Multimedia Distribution). Ama Lur [Motherland]. 1968, dir. Néstor Basterretxea and Fernando Larruquert (Distribuciones Cinematográficas Ama Lur). Amaren ideia [Mum’s Idea]. 2010, dir. Maider Oleaga. Amona Putz! [The Inflatable Grandma]. 2009, dir. Telmo Esnal. Ander. 2009, dir. Roberto Castón. Arrantzale [Fisherman]. 1975, dir. Antton Merikaetxebarria. Artalde [Flock of Sheep]. 2010, dir. Asier Altuna. Artzainak: Shepherds and Sheep. 2011, dir. Jacob Griswold and Javi Zubizarreta. Asier eta biok [Asier and I]. 2013, dir. Amaia Merino and Aitor Merino. ¡Aupa Etxebeste! [Hooray for Etxebeste!]. 2005, dir. Asier Altuna and Telmo Esnal. Basque Hotel. 2011, dir. Josu Venero. Betiko borroka [Never-Ending Fight]. 1979, dir. Xabier Zelaiaundi. Blancanieves. 2012, dir. Pablo Berger (Cohen Media, Wanda Distribución). Choque. 2005, dir. Nacho Vigalondo. Combustión. 2013, dir. Daniel Calparsoro (Film Factory Entertainment). El Mayorazgo de Basterretxe. 1928, dir. Mauro and Viktor Azcona (Producciones Azcona). El proceso de Burgos. 1980, dir. Imanol Uribe. Encierro. 2013, dir. Olivier Van Der Zee. Éramos pocos [One Too Many]. 2005, dir. Borja Cobeaga (Magnolia Pictures). Estado de excepción. 1977, Iñaki Núñez. Esvastica bat Bidasoan [The Basque Swastika]. 2013, dir. Alfonso Andrés Ayarza and Javier Barajas. Euskal Herri Musika [Basque Music]. 1978, dir. Fernando Larruquert. Euskara eta kirola [Basque Language and Sports]. 1980, dir. Antton Ezeiza and Koldo Izagirre. Extraterrestre. 2011, dir. Nacho Vigalondo (Vértigo Films, Tugg, Focus World). Ez: centrales nucleares [No: Nuclear Power Stations]. 1977, dir. Imanol Uribe. Fuego eterno. 1985, dir. José Ángel Rebolledo. 1122 Rob Stone and María Pilar Rodríguez bhs, 93 (2016)

Guk [We]. 2011, dir. Nuria Vialta Renobale. Hauspo soinua [The Sound of the Bellows]. 2000, dir. Inaz Fernández. Homenaje a Tarzán (La cazadora inconsciente). 1969, dir. Rafael Ruiz Balerdi. Ikurrinaz filmea [Basque Flag Film]. 1977, dir. Juan Bernardo Heinink. Invasor. 2012, dir. Daniel Calparsoro (Buena Vista International; Filmax International). Ipuinak kontatu: The Basque Way [Telling Stories: The Basque Way]. 2012, dir. Emily Lobsenz. Irrintzi [Shout]. 1978, dir. Mirentxu Loyarte (Irudi Films). Izenik Gabe, 200x133 [Without Title, 200x133]. 2013, dir. Enara Goikotetxea and Monika Zumeta. La conquista de Albania. 1984, dir. Alfonso Ungría (Ache Distri. Cine). La fuga de Segovia. 1981, dir. Imanol Uribe (Divisa, Grange, Warner). La muerte de Mikel 1984, dir. Imanol Uribe (José Esteban Alenda). La pelota vasca. La piel contra [Basque Ball]. 2003, dir. Julio Medem (Golem Distribución; Palisades- Tartan Acquisitions). La primera vez. 2001, dir. Borja Cobeaga. Las brujas de Zugarramurdi. 2013, dir. Álex de la Iglesia (Film Factory Entertainment, UPI). Lucía y el sex. 2001, dir. Julio Medem (Warner Sogefilms A.I.E.) Operación H. 1964, dir. Néstor Bastererretxea and Fernando Larruquert. Pagafantas [Friend Zone]. 2009, dir. Borja Cobeaga (Star Films, Vertice Cine). Pa negre [Black Bread]. 2010, dir. Agustí Villaronga (Savor). Pelotari [Basque Ball Player]. 1964, dir. Néstor Bastererretxea and Fernando Larruquert. Salto al vacío [Leap into the Void]. 1995, dir. Daniel Calparsoro (Cinemussy). Si no puedes con el enemigo …acaba con él. 2013, dir. T-Rec. Topeka [Ram Fight]. 2002, dir. Asier Altuna. To Say Goodbye. 2012, dir. Matt Richards. Un novio de mierda. 2010, dir. Borja Cobeaga (Canal+ España). Zuloak [Holes]. 2012, dir. Fermín Muguruza. Zuretzako [For You]. 2011, dir. Javi Zubizarreta.