Alcarràs: a family of farmers face change in this sun-dappled Catalan portrait

Three children, immersed in imaginative play, occupy an abandoned car on the edge of their family farm. As they chatter about travelling through outer space, their fantasy is interrupted by a monster: a looming mechanical crane. Forced to leave their den, the children can only watch the car dangle above them – a surreal sight in this pastoral scene. It’s the first upheaval of many for the Solé family in Alcarràs, the Golden Bear-winning sophomore feature from director Carla Simón.

In her critically lauded debut, Summer 93 (2017), Simón mined her own biography to tell the tender tale of a young girl adopted by relatives after her mother’s death. Though at a further remove from Simón’s life story, Alcarràs retains some of the trademarks of her debut, including the lush Catalan setting and the exquisitely detailed focus on the rhythms of family life, not least the vividly captured playtimes of the younger family members.

The Solés are peach farmers who have occupied their land for generations on the basis of a handshake deal with the original owners, the Pinyols; the ambitious young Pinyol, whose first name we never learn, doesn’t recognise this agreement, and begins to make moves to evict the family just as picking season starts. Low on funds and with a hard summer ahead, the Solés must contemplate an uncertain future.

The large, tight-knit family includes grandfather Rogelio (Josep Abad) and his sister; patriarch Quimet (Jordi Pujol Dolcet); his wife Dolors (Anna Otin); and their three children, adolescent Roger (Albert Bosch), young teen Mariona (Xènia Roset), and the youngest, Iris (Ainet Jounou). Quimet’s siblings also weave in and out of the picture, with his twin nephews in tow. Despite the sprawling multigenerational cast, each family member is given roughly equal attention, as Simón deftly shifts focus from person to person. In an ensemble drama with six prominent characters, Simón’s accomplished yet unshowy direction sees her growing beyond the more limited confines of her first feature. Its distinctive Spanish setting aside, Alcarràs recalls the work of Koreeda Hirokazu in its attention to the minute details and rituals of family life.

Each scene unfolds largely at the eye level of whoever it’s focusing on, with cinematographer Daniela Cajías’s patient, naturalistic style bringing the performances to the fore. Her camera also peers through doorways, looks out of windows and gazes along lengthy avenues of peach trees; the bucolic Catalan landscape is a sea of rich greens and oranges, occasionally punctuated by the sight of a gleaming white solar-panel truck. Adults discuss serious topics with their backs to the camera, ceding prominence in the frame to the concerned faces of the children.

Alcarràs largely avoids facing its high-stakes premise head-on, much as the family do, and instead is concerned with their attempts to care for, comfort, and sometimes control each other as they react to the impending loss of their livelihood. Amid the stress of the picking season, with their produce suddenly more precious than usual as money runs low, the extended family still finds space for joy and nurturing. The great-aunt recites fairytales; Rogelio helps his grandchildren wash peach stones. Simón and writer Arnau Vilaró celebrate the vocation and heritage of these characters without regressing into conservatism. The family sing folk songs one moment, and cheer on Mariona’s modern dance routine the next.

Underneath the story, a subtext about the invasion of the modern into tradition swims in and out of view. The local cooperative organises protests about the price of peaches, and grumble about those who take up Pinyol’s offer of abandoning farming and installing and maintaining solar panels on their land. The Solés weigh up this offer throughout the film. Simón ventures into the political sphere without losing sight of the domestic, with larger conflicts bringing smaller character moments into focus. Rogelio’s repeated attempts to give the younger Pinyol produce from the farm is met with confusion, a custom that, much like the handshake agreement, is no longer understood. In a joyous moment later in the film, Mariona and Roger put their own rebellious spin on this, leaving dead rabbits outside the landlord’s door in the dead of night. Like so much of Alcarràs, the outcome is unclear; Simón’s focus is on the shared experience between family in the face of adversity.

► Alcarràs is in UK cinemas from 6 January, and will be available to stream on MUBI from 24 February.