Page 76 - Alternative Europe Eurotrash and Exploitation Cinema Since 1945

De la Iglesia does not 'centre' the film on the monarch's calming discourse. Instead we have
the television executives and workers witnessing the spectacle of an idiotic colonel who thinks the
television station is shut off by literally pulling a plug out of the wall and who takes most pleasure in
the high-jinks found on Saturday morning cartoons. Some Spaniards have long speculated that the
King in fact was only a reluctant defender of the constitution, and was also aware of the coup before it
began. They further speculate that his own more liberal father made him speak to the nation against
it. Hence the ellipsis in Muertos de risa directs attention to a contested moment in the historical record
as well.
The anticipated image of King Juan Carlos on television does appear in the second half of this same
sequence, long after the coup has been defused and archived. It foreshadows the next sequence, called
'El Reencuentro' ('The Reunion'), or Nino's version of triumph, because we think it can only be a
dream of self-promotion. As viewers, we lose our critical edge to interpret narrative when we enjoy the
humour of recognition evoked by a nationalist media spectacle. Nino is inserted into historical events,
specifically the 1992 Barcelona Summer Olympics opening ceremony, in a technique recalling Woody
Allen's Zelig (1983). First Nino is catching up to the official Spanish delegation in the opening parade
of athletes, then he is shown as the famous archer who lit the torch, and finally he appears in place
of the tenor José Carreras singing the incredibly saccharine Olympic song, Amigos para siempre'
('Friends Forever'). The whole royal family, the Prince, a weeping Princess Elena, Queen Sofia and
King Juan Carlos, melodramatically perform rhe bonding of rhe nation through spectacle. The film
cuts immediately to 'El Reencuentro', the manager's attempt to reunite the comedy team. Because
this idea is such a standard promotional tool we do not catch that this tale of success is according to
Nino. Also, Santiago Segura, as Nino, steps out of a limo fastidiously coifed and dressed in a white
suit to resemble the pudgy Spanish singer Raphael Martos, simply known as Raphael, the epitome of
a melodramatic crooner of Spanish pop ballads. Raphael is known for his world tours and is often the
object of gay, camp performances. Again, the viewers are put in the position of celebrating the media
spectacle first, and of seeing it as overtly secondary to national concerns. Here, in particular, I would
see a move to emphasise globalisation and critique the commodification of culture.

A FINAL LOOK AT STAGE AND S C R E E N : FROM POLITICAL ICONOGRAPHY
TO GUILTY PLEASURES

Muertos de risa parodies Raphael, Spain's pure showman of melodramatic ballads, who has been going
at it - Energizer Bunny-like - for well over 25 years, with 56 albums and 9 feature films, including
a documentary on his life that he had pulled from the market due to its unflattering portrayal of 'la
fragilidad del mito' ('the fragility of the myth'). A Spanish audience would be well aware that Raphael
has long been seen as a darling of the political right. Esteve Rimbau, in Diccionario de cine español,
makes it acerbically clear how closely Raphael was associated with not only the 1970s, but with a
particulat political line then:

That very same year, 1975, the singer appeared in the television series The World of Raphael
and, although he has continued to lavish forth musical performances on diverse national and

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