This film is so masterful, and I’m concerned people have forgotten about it just over a decade later, or never seen it. Still, it endures. It’s absolutely unique and beautiful.
Pablo Berger ‘s Goya winning flamenco spin on Snow White, Blancanieves, is a fairy tale like no other. It’s silent film, fable and anti-war metaphor all wrapped into one subversive red shawl. When her legendary matador father Antonio Villalta (Daniel Gimenez Cacho) is gored by a bull, little Carmencita (Sofia Oria) has to look after him.
That is, until evil stepmother Encarna (Maribel Verdu) steps into the fray, and she has her own nefarious plans for the family. Verdu has an absolute blast in her role, with her blood red lipstick sneer a wondrous contrast to young Oria as Carmen, who keeps her own counsel at all times. It’s a brilliant pairing.
What follows is a bid for autonomy, as adult Carmen (Macarena Garcia) tries to individuate… and yet, her loving father casts a long shadow. Should she too take on his role, or become a woman on her own terms, even if it means losing the family name? Six (not seven) little men befriend the lost girl, and all hell breaks loose.
What a wrench.It’s sad, uncompromising, brutal, hilarious and a wee bit erotic. Angela Carter herself would have been seduced by its understated charm. And there’s no happy ending here. Disney, this ain’t.
Hit The North 
could you imagine what Disney *would* do with it? hmm …
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