El Rey de la montaña
***½/****
starring Leonardo Sbaraglia, María Valverde, Pablo Menasanch, Francisco Olmo
screenplay by Gonzalo López-Gallego, Javier Gullón
directed by Gonzalo López-Gallego
by Bill Chambers A political thriller in the sense that it's bound to polarize audiences, King of the Hill (El Rey de la montaña) is if nothing else gripping from beginning to end. The effective, switcheroo set-up finds lost souls Quim (Leonardo Sbaraglia) and Bea (María Valverde, who from certain angles suggests Monica Bellucci's little sister) hooking up anonymously in the bathroom of a gas station, after which Bea makes off with Quim's wallet. Giving chase, Quim is shot at by a shadowy figure, and soon enough he and his would-be inamorata become the targets of vicious, relentless snipers deep in the wilds of Spain. Blessedly light on exposition (Bea is arguably a more tragic figure because the filmmakers leave her psychological profile wilfully incomplete), the picture ineffably conjures the spirit of Fabián Bielinsky and his swan song The Aura while easily outclassing its own most obvious source, The Most Dangerous Game. King of the Hill is also the rare movie that–by taking it allegorically rather than literally–actually honours Deliverance in repurposing it. But ay, there's the rub: you can't tell this kind of story honestly without some sub-culture feeling persecuted, and I suspect the film may ultimately bite the hand that feeds it with its au courant choice of avatar for the grim reaper. At the very least, its casual condemnation of gaming culture is not going to bridge any generation gaps, though I'll take King of the Hill's old-fashioned alarmism over the nihilism of American horror's current wave. PROGRAMME: Discovery
