Before the Lights: the buzz around Deseo
In the early 2000s, the first previews of Deseo appeared in Spanish newspapers and on film festival boards and posters. Early buzz suggested that this film might not be just another glossy romantic drama. This was a film that beautifully explored the intersection of human desire and the moral complexities of the time. Gerardo Vera directed the film and, drawing on the literary influences, projected a tapestry of desire stretched across the politics of love and survival in the post-war era. This passion wrapped in consequence is what ignited the anticipation of cinephiles long before the first trailer was released.
The story inside the warrooms of the heart
At its heart, Deseo is a haunting, beautifully constructed drama set after the close of World War II. Elvira (Leonor Watling), a young woman and a war refugee, works in the household of a powerful Spanish family. Eventually, Elvira falls for Pablo (Leonardo Sbaraglia), a shadowy figure connected to foreign politics, political agents, and the black market. For Elvira, who for most of her life has known only the passivity of obedience and the quiet endurance of oppression, Pablo, even at great risk to life and suffering, is a promise of vitality.
The affair occurs in silence, a love story insulated by the barriers of class and the division of politics. But as the narrative progresses, the war overtakes the background. It consumes the characters and the spaces they inhabit. Each kiss and whispered confession risks exposure, and every tender act is a defiant challenge to the world. Still, the question remains: can love act so boldly in a time of war, or is it only survival masquerading as passion?
Once Elvira discovers all of the truths about Pablo and his alliances, it is already too late, and the story has shifted irrevocably to tragedy. The disillusioning climax of the film offers no answers as it invites the audience to question whether love can truly withstand the oppressive weight of regrets.
Elvira’s journey is the emotional spine of Deseo. While Watling does not play her as a helpless romantic, she is nevertheless a woman trapped by circumstance, aware of her power even as she is unable to free herself. The most rewarding part of the film is her gradual awakening as she defies her employer and the sky-high expectations of her time.
Pablo, like the construction of Sbaraglia, is equally complex. He is charming, but beneath the exterior, there is a man crumbling under the pressure of guilt, amends, and his conflicting sentiments. His political participation, disguised as self-interest, allows the audience to associate his victimhood and villainhood. His gaze at Elvira is simultaneously tender and doomed. He is the man seeking redemption, yet he has gone too far.
Then there is a woman Alina (Cecilia Roth), a more worldly figure who understands desire far better than those around her. She no longer burns with passion, but watches it consume the others around her. Her calm detachment and emotional insight serve as the film’s silent conscience, one who realizes love and destruction come with one the same provisions.
Cecilia Roth’s reputation as Alina secured and gave instant credibility to Deseo. Roth’s previous body of work included collaborating with Pedro Almodóvar, and starring in Argentine cinema, which made her portrayal of emotionally courageous women a staple. Her presence gave the audience the impression Deseo, aiming to take on serious female psychology, would not result in poor drama typical of soap operas.
Leonardo Sbaraglia acts with remarkable intensity, particularly with Pablo, as his performances often highlight vulnerability and menace. This is precisely the duality that Deseo required. He was so convincing that it was sufficiently compelling that Elvira was prepared to gamble everything for him, but there was an emotional and physical intensity surrounding him that made the audiences fearful of him.
Leonor Watling was able to complement this role as, in addition to acting, she was balancing her other profession as a musician. Watling brought a remarkable and understated sensitivity to Elvira. Her expression precluded the need for dialogue. The tension arising from her real-life artistic elegance and the inescapable artistic simplicity of her performance was congruous with the character, a woman fragile in appearance but with a deep inner and powerful storm.
Examination of cinematic choices. What worked, and what did not.
Gerardo Vera’s direction leaned more towards intimacy. It was as if he was focused more on the emotional interiority of the characters than on the drama. Most of the film plays out in the dimly lit seclusion of the cells of a bunker, in the oppressive silence of post-war Spain. The production design — chipped walls, smoky parlors, and threadbare furniture — conveys the fatigue of a nation trying to rebuild itself while hiding its scars.
Reactions to the film’s pacing were polarizing, both among critics and audiences. Some argued the slow pacing was to elicit the moral discomfort of the viewer, while others described it as slow and wandering, suggesting there were scenes that could have been made more concise. The film was a mood piece, and this seems to have unsettled audiences anticipating political urgency or grand romantic scope.
To me, the reason Deseo speaks to audiences is the refusal to provide easy answers. It neither moralizes nor dramatizes, instead, it occupies the space of ambiguity between love and obligation, and between fear and yearning.
The Off-Screen Lives that Enhanced the Performances
The performers’ own experiences enhanced the on-screen chemistry. Roth was undergoing her own reinvention as an actress at forty, and so she was able to imbue Alina with the poise of a woman who has lived and has gained perspective. Watling’s filming Elvira came between her music tour, and so she was able to reproduce the duality of Elvira—the public performer and the private woman. Having recently worked on politically committed Argentine projects, Sbaraglia was able to provide a rawness to his performance, that made Pablo feel unnervingly authentic.
Perhaps that is why Deseo feels less like a film and more like a confession. Each seemed to give voice to their own restlessness, and so it feels like a confession of the compromises that have been experienced.
Behind the curtains: moments no one talks about
Although Deseo was scandal-free, insiders from the production later shared stories that hinted at tension. Adaptation issues arose because Vera’s vision was at odds with the more commercially driven producers. The early drafts reportedly ended more politically, yet the final edition preserved emotional ambiguity as a political compromise.
One more little known fact: the final scene in the rain, when Elvira walks off into the fog, was not in the original script. The team improvised it when a drizzle unexpectedly interrupted the outdoor shoot. Vera’s decision to continue filming during the rain, with the note to Watling to “walk as though you’ve lost something that never belonged to you,” was a stroke of genius. That “mistake” became one of the film’s most haunting images.
There were, no doubt, tensions with Vera during the late-night shoot of the confrontation scene. Sbaraglia, who is known for meticulous preparation, wanted to revise a pivotal line about Pablo’s guilt. Vera, on the other hand, desperately wanted to keep the line’s awkwardness, claiming it was a reflection of the character’s panic. The rawness of the first take, which became part of the final cut, of that scene was a gift.
Where the Desire Still Lingers
Upon release, Deseo didn’t set the box office on fire, but it didn’t need to. It was the type of film that critics reviewed years later. For the atmosphere, emotional honesty and the understated performances, silences were the focus during reviews. It needed calm, thoughtful moments to achieve the desired effect.
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