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  • Quinqui Film in Spain: Peripheries of Society and Myths on the Margins ed. by Jorge González del Pozo
  • Sandra Ortiz-València
González del Pozo, Jorge, editor. Quinqui Film in Spain: Peripheries of Society and Myths on the Margins. Anthem, 2020. Pp. 165. ISBN 978-1-78527-229-5.

A “quinqui” is a criminal, but very specific to Spanish recent history and society. Although its origins can be traced back to the picaresca, the term was coined during the Transición, when the country moved away from dictatorship to democracy. The quinqui reflects both the illusion and the disappointment brought up by this political change; it represents those parts of the population that, despite witnessing this transformation, still felt out of place and only experienced rejection. Still, the term is so specific not only because it was part of the cultural milieu at that time, but also because it has remained in the Spanish collective imagination since then, becoming a tragic anti-heroic icon. There have been many different media representations of the quinqui, but film productions stand out in quantity and quality, even nearly becoming a genre in itself, which is precisely what Quinqui Film in Spain: Peripheries of Society and Myths on the Margins points out. The text compiles a selection of essays that analyze different depictions of the quinqui on the big screen and provides a panorama of interpretations, which, despite the variety, reflect that “[t]hese films attempt to analyze the fractures of the new social order and offer a portrait of a collective belonging to a generation relegated to the background” (10–11). Therefore, the book not only exposes the particular inception and the formal characteristics of the genre; it also explains the long-lasting impact that quinqui films cast in the Spanish cultural paradigm, bringing to the fore their visible subversion and interpretative potential.

Quinqui Film in Spain tackles with the essential aspects about these cultural phenomena that researchers need to be familiar with when they approach this subject. While the introduction provides a broad, but helpful contextualization that highlights the historical, political and cultural landmarks that accompanied the appearance of quinqui films, the first two chapters pay special attention to the stylistic and discursive characteristics of the genre, outlining and analyzing the themes and aesthetics employed by its most well-known filmmakers—Eloy de la Iglesia and José Antonio de la Loma. These chapters comprehensively delineate the narrative features of quinqui films and explain how this peculiar style visually embodied the economic and social anxieties of marginalized communities in the Spain of the Transición. Following this foundational introduction to the topic, the book moves to describe the enduring effect these films cast on society; it does so, firstly, by showcasing the controversial reception that the most commercial film of the genre, Deprisa, deprisa (1981) by Carlos Saura, had on the national press, and secondly, by including two essays that demonstrate the persistent influence that the figure of the quinqui cast on its subsequent cultural milieu. Both, chapter 4 and 5—dedicated to two recent representations of the quinqui, Siete Vírgenes (2005) and Volando Voy (2006)—expose the profound ramifications of the genre and demonstrate that this archetype is a figure inherited from the Transición, but mystified and lionized as an icon of Spanish collective imagination.

Finally, as its critical closure, Quinqui Film in Spain returns its focus to other foundational pieces of the genre that received minor attention by audiences and scholars alike. The films’ analysis included in the last three chapters—Todos me llaman gato (1980), Perras callejeras (1985), and Barcelona sur (1981)—display the subversive potential and the interpretative prospects of these films: on the one hand, these essays show that the genre was able to undermine its own aesthetical conventions (either by depicting an affective relationship between the criminal and the police, as in Todos me llaman gato, or by presenting a gender-inversion of the traditional protagonists, as occurs in the other two films); on the other hand, exposing their rebellious [End Page 130] nature suggests the interpretative possibilities that might have been overlooked until now. Yet, the absence of conclusive remarks...

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