Mariano Ozores: The art of making people laugh

In this country, we have the unfortunate habit of paying tribute and homage to people who have stood out for something… only after they’ve passed away. Why can’t we give them the award of recognition and public gratitude while they’re still alive? 
 
The news that broke today in the media was the death of Spanish film director Mariano Ozores, and now all those outlets have dedicated a small slot in their programming to remember him. Yes, that’s fine, because he deserved it, but they could have done this much earlier, when he was still alive. 
 
In any case, I believe he was fully aware of having earned the public’s affection thanks to his films, which had an impressive merit: making us laugh and helping us forget our troubles for a few moments. Because making people laugh is a great achievement, and bringing joy to others is what most ennobles a human being. 
 
I invite you to read the article “Mariano Ozores: The Picasso of Spanish Cinema,” which I published today on this blog. 
 
However, a few years ago, specifically in 2021, I paid a (living) tribute to Mariano Ozores to reveal an unknown facet of his work to the public, which is why I titled that article: “Mariano Ozores: The Picasso of Spanish Cinema.” I invite you to read that article, which I’ve brought back to publish today on this blog.
 

This legendary television series from the eighties hid a secret message that has now been revealed: “The hidden message of Falcon Crest”: https://a.co/d/j1tn69R

Mariano Ozores, the Picasso of Spanish Cinema

The eternal debate between quality and commercial success occurs in all aspects of life, including cinema and painting. As an example, here’s a curious comparison between the prolific Spanish film director Mariano Ozores and the renowned painter Pablo Picasso… 
 
Any reader of this column familiar with Mariano Ozores’ filmography (everyone knows Picasso) will clutch their head, dismissing this headline as utter nonsense. 
“How can you compare Picasso, a genius of painting, with a filmmaker who churns out movies like they’re churros? And never has the expression been more fitting because Mariano Ozores was the only Spanish director capable of making up to six films in a single year.” This quoted phrase, dear reader, could have been said by anyone, even you. 
 
And I must admit that at first, I would have agreed with that statement. I’ve seen many of this director’s films myself, and while they’re often funny, we must acknowledge their poor quality. 
 
Well, that was until the other day when I saw a 1963 film on television (released in December 1964) titled The Uncertain Hour, written and directed by Mariano Ozores. But in the channel’s schedule, it wasn’t categorized as a “comedy” but as a “suspense” film. “That must be a mistake,” I thought, and I immediately set out to clear my doubts. I watched the film and was astonished. It was, indeed, a suspense film, filled with a wide variety of perfectly portrayed characters, and with stories—revolving around the central plot—that skillfully intertwined. 
 
In short, it wasn’t a masterpiece, but it was a good film that shattered the image we all have of Mariano Ozores: the director of mass-produced Spanish comedies. 
 
I then wondered: if Mariano Ozores knew how to make good films, why did he choose to make poor-quality ones? I recalled Picasso and my visit to his museum in Málaga, where his paintings are displayed in chronological order. When I saw his early works, I discovered a magnificent painter… who, at that time, was a nobody… until the invention of Cubism radically changed his career, making him famous and wealthy by painting those strange things we all know. 
 
Something similar must have happened to Mariano Ozores because The Uncertain Hour was his fifth film, and his production company, “La Hispánica,” went bankrupt after its resounding commercial failure. Perhaps that’s why this director decided to change course and created a type of cinema—fun but of poor quality—that earned the derogatory labels of “españolada” and “landismo” (due to the frequent appearances of Alfredo Landa in his films). And when censorship relaxed, he added the allure of the “destape” (a period of Spanish cinema featuring more nudity). Indeed, many of these films became major commercial successes, and Mariano Ozores kept making movies non-stop (92 films between 1959 and 1993), filming four each year and even six in one year. 
 
For Mariano Ozores, quality cinema led to ruin, while bad cinema made him a successful director. For Picasso, good painting brought neither fame nor money, but Cubism turned him into a global painting icon. 
 
That’s why I prefer the Mariano Ozores of The Uncertain Hour and the Picasso of his early years, because neither Cubism nor the “españoladas” inspire the slightest admiration in me—just smiles and a few laughs. 
 
P.S. – Now, all you “intellectuals” out there can go ahead and tear your hair out.
 

This legendary television series from the eighties hid a secret message that has now been revealed: “The hidden message of Falcon Crest”: https://a.co/d/j1tn69R