Days of August Review: A Torrid Summer Nights Nightmare

‘Days of August’ opens with a paradisiacal journey along the coast of the Canary Islands. The central couple, Juan and Gabriela, twenty-somethings, head to the imposing summer house of his parents. Ahead lie days of sun, beach, pool, rest and, to be blunt, a lot of sex. The dream of any young person.

Yet as the old saying goes, the path from heaven to hell is short, and Juan’s first misfire soon materializes in an unexpected premature erectile failure. From that moment, the film gradually transforms the young man’s surroundings into a volatile pressure cooker.

The surprise arrival of his father and his father’s much younger girlfriend at the shared vacation home becomes only a trigger to set in motion a plot that hides far more. A story that quickly gains strength thanks to the carefully crafted cinematography by Dani Salo, which plays with colors that are incredibly warm.

The incessant cicada sound. The careful lighting inside the house, soft and never overhead. Shots that feature two and even three ceiling fans whipping the characters’ shirts, leaving broad sweat marks… Elements that soon convert the warm atmosphere into something hellish.

The film benefits from a notably small cast, almost intimate, in which the four principal characters bear the weight of the narrative. Among them, the performance of Maggie Civantos (Mónica, the father’s girlfriend) stands out, delivering a mysterious, almost mystical character that reveals almost everything through her gaze.

Ghosts of the Past

But, although ‘Days of August’ sometimes falters in properly centering its focal point, the film is, above all, the story of Juan. A young man whose fragility quickly shows in the seams of his relationships, from family ties to romantic ones. And while the most striking aspect is undoubtedly the instinctual bonds that begin to connect Juan with the character of Mónica, the story crafted by David Sueiro certainly holds much more depth.

‘Days of August’ is by no means a melodramatic film. Here, the silences and the looks say far more than the arguments, barely present. Almost no one raises their voice, yet stories that are far more important are spoken and intuited than could be shouted. None of the intimate scenes feel gratuitous. Chema de la Peña’s work seeks that balance between rhythm and character development that is so hard to achieve.

Although the lightness of the running time is another plus for the film (95 minutes that pass pleasantly), it is true that the ending, even if it grows predictable as it nears, feels somewhat rushed and blurred, and when it ends it slightly dulls a work that, in broad strokes, benefits from meticulous and refined details.

In the end, ‘Days of August’ ends up being a perfect metaphor for contemporary youth. A generation that appears to have everything, yet, deep down, has nothing at all.