TIFF24 REVIEW: Polvo serán [They Will Be Dust] [2024]

Rating: NR | Runtime: 106 minutes
Release Date: November 15th, 2024 (Spain)
Director(s): Carlos Marques-Marcet
Writer(s): Coral Cruz, Carlos Marques-Marcet & Clara Roquet

The line that sticks with me from Carlos Marques-Marcet’s They Will Be Dust (co-written with Coral Cruz and Clara Roquet) is when Flavio (Alfredo Castro) tells his youngest daughter Violeta (Mònica Almirall) that he’s “just” her parent. Sure, parenthood means something. The bond between a parent and a child should be an unbreakable one. But we understand his meaning. He’s supposed to die before her. We grow-up knowing we’ll inevitably need to say goodbye. So, doing it early shouldn’t be the end of the world. Especially not if “early” means “on his terms.” Violeta doesn’t need him anymore. She should enjoy her own life away from him like her siblings do. It’s not his job to help her accept his decision.

Claudia (Ángela Molina)—Flavio’s partner and Violeta’s mother—has been diagnosed with a terminal brain tumor and doesn’t have long to live. His decision is to therefore not only be by her side as she chooses to pursue assisted suicide in Switzerland, but to also leave this world with her. Flavio says it’s something he’s thought about for a long time. Well before her prognosis. We don’t quite learn the details, but from the way Violeta, Lea (Patrícia Bargalló), and Manuel (Alván Prado) talk, it seems like he left them at some point during their past before returning. One could say he’s experienced life without Claudia and knows he never wants to do it again. So, her death will be his and they’ll spend eternity together too.

The narrative is thus a familiar one. Flavio and Claudia must wrap their heads around what it is they are about to do and find a way to tell their children. What makes it unique is the way in which Marques-Marcet and company allow these two characters to hold steadfast in that decision no matter what anyone says in response. Yes, they will feel guilt when it comes to leaving their kids behind, but they must follow their hearts regardless because their wants are just as relevant and important as the ones of those they raised. They want Violeta and the others to accept it even if they cannot agree because they hope they’ve earned the respect that they are doing this without regret.

And since this is an artistic family (Claudia is an actor/dancer and Flavio is her director), the aesthetic can move past the usual somber tone of such stories by injecting a little theatrical fun by way of the tumor. Because beyond causing pain and disorientation, each jolt in Claudia’s head transforms the resulting scene into a musical number. Paramedics gliding through the apartment in chase, propping up what she throws down in their way. Choreographed dances on a bus and synchronized performances down a hallway in coffins. It’s as though her mind is grabbing hold of her identity, reminding her of who she is and the joy of life despite being helpless to prevent the curtain from coming down.

It’s the sort of levity we need to counteract the sorrow of the subject matter and anger that arises once everyone is made aware. Everything Claudia and Flavio do before telling the kids is colored by their secret. Her not wanting Violeta to put her career on hold, knowing it won’t be for as long as she assumes. Him concocting a wedding to ensure their older kids visit—even though most of the reason for not being able to just ask them over is a product of his role in the estrangement thanks to always giving their art precedence. We want there to be some big cathartic moment of forgiveness, but things don’t always work out that way. To Lea and Manuel, they are “just” parents.

Violeta’s place in this story is thus a crucial one. She’s close enough to Claudia and Flavio to not want them to go but also in the same boat as her siblings to realize it isn’t up to her. Having those three distinct positions really fleshes out the emotional beats so that They Will Be Dust never risks falling into some melodramatic us-versus-them or right-versus-wrong soapbox. The script never questions anyone’s actions as being anything but genuine. The pain. The happiness. The longing. The desire. No one is looking at someone else to tell them it’s okay. They must each come to that clarity on their own knowing they love each other anyway. There’s no fault to be had, only understanding.

That goes for Claudia and Flavio most of all and both Molina and Castro perform them beautifully. The strength of their bond. The sadness in willingly leaving the others behind. What we see in their faces when confronted with the rage of those who’ve learned the truth is uncertainty. It’s fear. Just because they’ve decided to die together doesn’t mean they aren’t afraid. Afraid of what their kids might think. Afraid of the act itself. We never see them second-guess themselves, though. Only come to terms. The honesty in that distinction is impressive because it centers them as romantics afraid to die rather than self-centered souls seeking an escape. For them it’s not an end. It’s simply what’s necessary.