Cast adrift by the Spanish secret service, disgraced Francisco Paesa (Eduard Fernández) must find other ways to earn a living, his reputation for profound cunning immersed in subterfuge still resonating however, as a crooked formal national police commissioner seeks his admonishing aid.
A plan.
A forecast.
Subordinate reliability a troubling factor, as indelicate months pass and pressures mount, every detail of the plan covertly constructed, contingencies classified with hypothetical clarity.
Interminable patience required by all players, Paesa's foreseen a possible outcome, that leaves him assuredly stacked in the black.
Yet he remains loyal, faithful, truthful, subservient, theoretically, resolute calm submerged and breaching, extrajudicial outcomes speculatively splayed, thatched, patched, acrobatic burlap, either way he's set free, unless he winds up in prison.
For the rest of his life.
Interstitial estuaries.
Comet and cupid.
Compacted nerve.
Expeditiously invigorating cerebral texts and phalanxes, Alberto Rodríguez's El hombre de las mil caras (Smoke and Mirrors) keeps things smooth and steady.
It masterfully pulls you in and then harkingly hails in lockdown.
Penetratingly equipped with pertinent plights enabled, multiple primary and secondary familial and professional plot threads fading then reappearing with expert cinematic timing, thereby effortlessly attaching sub/conscious depth to its politicoethical imbroglio, El hombre de las mil caras is far beyond most of what I've seen this year, another outstanding film from M. Rodríguez.
Immaculately composed.
That's/He's still so much fun to watch.
Verifiable.
*Was into Spanish music last week. Damn it!
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