Filmax won international sales with “Karmele,” directed by Basque Asier Altuna and produced by San Sebastián-based Txintxua Films and Marian Fernández Pascal of Esnatzeko Ordua Films.
Inspired by Kirmen Uribe’s fact-based novel “La Hora de Despestarnos Juntos,” the Basque drama traces the life of Karmele Urresti, a nurse forced into exile during the Spanish Civil War. Played by Joan Laspur, she falls in love with French trumpet player Txomin Letamendi (Eneko Sagardoy), who together navigates the fractures between love, loyalty and political beliefs while building a family in Paris, Caracas and Bilbao.
Altuna was struck by the density of events stuffed into the couple’s biographies: exile, secret work against dictatorship, cooperation with American intelligence, and two exiles in decades. “The temptation was to chase the sweep of history,” he admits, but the film intentionally narrows its gaze. “I had to restrain myself. Most importantly, their inner lives, not only their dignity, but their doubts, fears, and contradictions.”
The relationships at the heart of the film reflect the tension between individuals and politics. Txomin commits to a collective cause and throws himself into extremists. Karmele is looking to her family, caring and her child’s future. Neither harvests, and the fractures between their paths become part of the film’s central conflict. Altuna argues that this is what makes them familiar: strength is love mixed with vulnerability and complicated by belief.
Language itself becomes a field of resistance. Karmele’s mother, Carmen, was a teacher who was forbidden from her occupation to give Basque classes. “She was disqualified and exiled, and for 15 years, simply to teach children who don’t speak another language,” Altuna told Variety.
That experience shapes Carmele’s outlook, even in exile. She is dedicated to ensuring that children will restore their forbidden tongue-speaking freedom. “It’s not just a story of extremists and exile. It’s about communication. Identity is preserved through language. Every day, in small things, the battle for dignity is also fought.”
The film’s visual and sonic textures reflect the interaction of joy and loss. The early sequences convey the excitement of discoveries as exiles navigate a new world, with music, Basque folk, jazz, salsa and ham. The direction of Gernica in the Eresonka Choir embodies the rebellion of the refugees, but the improvised poem of Bad Solali has returned to its primitive state. However, when the family returns to Bilbao, the soundtrack drops. “All of a sudden there was silence. It was a conscious decision. Only then could the weight of oppression really be felt,” explained Altuna.
He and composer Aitor Etxeberria avoided dramatic scoring and instead leaned against Diegetic’s lack of music and sound. “We didn’t want to impose emotions,” the director explains. “Silence itself becomes oppressive. The audience leaves space for building their own stories.”
Visually, the film favors ellipsis and detail. Instead of recreating the battle, the Altuna remains in the gesture. Farmer bartering milk for squid, father hiding valuables in chest, woman’s arms folded. “Nature has its own drama. I like to stay in the nuances of what connects us to our memories,” he said. “These images come from stories I heard as a child, from fragments of war that reached us in peacetime. They are part of my truth.”
Carmele
Courtesy of Filmax Films
Actors Jone Laspiur (“Ane is Missing”) and Eneko Sagardoy (“Irati”) worked closely from an account given by Karmele’s surviving children who explained her speeches, gestures and how to face life. A few weeks of preparation preceded the short filming, and the performance was able to show up naturally. “The actors knew exactly where they were in each scene,” recalls Altuna. “Rehearsals, costumes, sets – everything helped me step into another era. The results are well balanced. Performance, staging, and stories all support each other.”
Although it is based on Basque’s experience, “Karmele” is a more broad purpose. It asks what happens when the world collapses and people are forced to decide surrender and dignity. “This is not just a Civil War movie. If the same thing happens today, whenever the rights are breached and fear is imposed, it’s the same story.
The director is particularly drawn to the way his protagonist chose art as a form of resistance. Basque exiles formed the Eresonka Choir to tour Europe, warning of the advancement of fascism through music and dance. “They chose culture against violence and authoritarianism. They believed that art could warn democracy against the wild bar,” he says.
Altuna sees similarities today. “The line between freedom and oppression is blurred very quickly. When totalitarianism in various parts of the world resurfaces, films can also become a form of resistance, allowing us to continue to believe in the possibilities of a more equitable world.”
