‘La Bola Negra’ captures the sweep of history and the intimacy of personal legacy

A self-consciously grand, sweeping epic about some of the most intimate and personal aspects of people’s lives, “La Bola Negra” explores the strands that bind generations together in unexpected ways. Using the history of gay male desire in different time periods — dangerous, clandestine, outlawed and at long last fitfully accepted — the film examines legacy and what gets handed down across time.

The story takes place during different time periods in Spain, opening in 1937, skipping back to 1932 and leaping ahead to 2017, then moving as a time-tumbling tale among the three strands with fluid transitions becoming a defining trait of the film’s storytelling. (The ping of a Grindr app notification when we first enter the modern world is both cheeky and uniquely ties the eras together.)

Directors Javier Calvo and Javier Ambrossi, known collectively as Los Javis, are prolific television creators and media personalities in their native Spain, with “La Bola Negra” their second feature film following the 2017 religious-themed musical comedy “La Llamada.” This latest project is co-written with Alberto Conejero, whose play “La piedra oscura” was a point of inspiration along with the life and work of gay dissident poet and playwright Federico García Lorca.

The film opens in 1937 during the Spanish Civil War as a small rural village prepares to welcome Italian comrades but is instead met by gunfire and bombs. A young trumpet player, Sebastián (played by the singer-songwriter known as Guitarricadelafuente, making his film debut), is soon conscripted to fight for the fascists. Earlier, in 1932, a young man named Carlos (Milo Quifes) wants to be accepted by an exclusive men’s club, but his membership is repeatedly rejected because of suspicions that he is homosexual. Then in 2017, Alberto (Carlos González), a failed playwright turned historian, receives an unexpected inheritance from a grandfather he never knew.

All three stories are revealed to be connected in some way to Lorca, who was murdered at the beginning of the fighting. The film reimagines the circumstances around his unfinished play, “La Bola Negra,” transforming it into a connection bridging generations.

As the three strands begin to come together, the movie truly hits its stride, once Alberto begins to understand the importance of the historic papers he has been left and how they came to be in his grandfather’s possession. The story gains a sense of momentum and inevitability as these disconnected tales suddenly become part of a continuous thread.

Los Javis, working with editor Alberto Gutiérrez, keep things moving, and the film’s two-and-a-half-hour running time moves at a surprisingly brisk pace. Penélope Cruz arrives for a few scenes as a wartime cabaret singer — her performance for a group of cheering soldiers is a burst of bawdy energy. She also has some insightful words of wisdom for Sebastián. Glenn Close, speaking in Spanish, later arrives briefly as an American literary historian who understands the importance of Alberto’s discoveries. Actor and comedian Julio Torres also brings a lively presence to his few scenes as Alberto’s boyfriend.

Along with a crafts team including cinematographer Gris Jordana, production designer Roger Bellés and costume designer Ana López Cobos, Los Javis have an eye for bold, distinctive images, often evincing a sense of curiosity and desire: what it is to look at something with wanting eyes. But many of the film’s most evocative images, often involving groups of soldiers, handsome and glistening and in varying stages of undress, remain just that — images without a strong connection to the larger storytelling.

“La Bola Negra” rolls in amid a wave of expectations that has been rising ever since it received a rapturous 20-minute ovation after its premiere at the Cannes Film Festival, where Los Javis also picked up the directing prize. Now the film arrives as Spain’s entry for the Academy Awards and with a commitment for an unprecedented extended theatrical release from its distributor Netflix.

Which could all be just empty awards-season positioning were it not for the fact that the film does have such a rhapsodic and tender way about it. Los Javis use the present to shine a light on the past — and the past to help explain the present. The movie is about how history can be not only a cycle but an evolution, moving us toward a better understanding of ourselves and each other.

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