This article contains spoilers for “La Bola Negra” (2026)
“La Bola Negra” is quickly generating attention as one of the best movies of the decade, and a potential Best Picture frontrunner come the Oscars.
Having seen it, the hype makes sense.
Directed by Javier Calvo and Javier Ambrossi, also known as Los Javis, “La Bola Negra” spans three time periods of Spanish history.
The film is inspired by and partially based on the work of Federico García Lorca, a queer playwright and poet who was killed during the Spanish Civil War, especially his unpublished play of the same name.
“La Bola Negra” is not for the faint of heart. It’s more than two and a half hours long, and the first two acts can be tough to sift through.
But the destination is well worth the journey.
Our three primary leads, Carlos (Milo Quifes), Sebastián (Guitarricadelafuente) and Alberto (Carlos González), placed in 1932, 1937 and 2017 respectively, are all spectacularly portrayed by their respective actors. They’re all relatively soft-spoken, but each performer generates a complete understanding of their character.
Guitarricadelafuente is getting lead actor Oscar buzz for his performance, as he should, but for me, González’s understated and quietly somber performance steals the show as the true heart of the film.
Guest stars Penélope Cruz and Glenn Close steal the show in their brief appearances. In a film full of surprise performances, recognizable faces draw the audience in and add gravitas to the sequences they appear in.
Behind the camera, Los Javis’ direction is off the charts. They strike a balance between the massive scale of a civil war and the necessary intimacy of interpersonal relationships. At times, it feels like three different movies are playing at once because of the dynamism of their direction.
Editor Alberto Gutiérrez has the heaviest lift, but he makes it look effortless.
The three vignettes could easily feel disjointed, but Gutiérrez’s editing keeps the film coherent, even early on when you don’t know why they’re connected.
“La Bola Negra” weaves fiction and reality together seamlessly. Carlos’s story is entirely contained within a play, while Sebastián and Alberto try to track that play down at different times.
The two “real” characters are two sides of the same coin. Sebastián fights to express his queerness amid systemic oppression. Alberto suppresses his queerness on his own in the face of personal tribulations. The dichotomy is a powerful illustration of how queer voices are silenced either outwardly or implicitly, even in the face of supposed progress.
So much of this film is dense and steeped in subtext; the moments of handholding stick out like a sore thumb.
At times, “La Bola Negra” seems to lose trust in its audience. Given some of the discourse surrounding the film I’ve seen online, I can understand why. Still, the film sacrifices complexity to state its themes.
The best movies are the ones that have something to say. Sometimes “La Bola Negra” takes that idea literally.
But what it has to say is still profound.
“La Bola Negra” is about queerness, fascism, familial ties, generational trauma and so much more. At times, it tries to juggle more than it seems capable of.
But the moments that stick with me aren’t the flaws. It’s Carlos dancing his heart out in a pub during an immaculate oner.
It’s fireworks and military celebrations while Sebastián fights himself on a beach.
It’s Alberto collapsing into his partner’s arms, wordlessly accepting himself and acknowledging his joy.
“La Bola Negra” is as massive in its scale as it is gorgeous in its humanity.
It tells us that through time and space, people before us have faced the same struggles.
It tells us that the only answer is to live and make the years yours.
