In her village of Cedillo de la Torre, in the province of Segovia, there was no cinema. But there was a small dance hall where, from time to time, a travelling company would project films.
It was in that smoky hall filled with furtive kisses, holding her father’s hand, that Esther García saw her first film: none other than Tarantosby Rovira Beleta. We do not know whether that little girl’s powerful fascination had anything to do with it, but the fact is that Tarantos went on to the Oscars.
Seen in retrospect, this is no small detail. Esther García has walked the coveted red carpet in Los Angeles with several of the films she has produced — and it is quite possible, we hope, that she will do so again soon with Sirat.
She entered the world of cinema almost by chance, balancing the books as a cashier and paymaster on film shoots during which women occupied the most silent, least illuminated corners of the frame.
We are talking about fifty years ago, when our cinema, with very few exceptions, like almost everything else in Spain at that time, was led by men. Men accustomed to patterns of authority which were in urgent need of revision.
This was the world in which Esther García arrived, bringing with her all her superpowers: empathy, talent, beauty, strength and a fierce desire to learn.
She began her career in 1975 — a turning point in Spain’s history — working with Pedro Olea on Pim, pam, pum… fuego. That film was followed by the TVE series Curro Jiménez, Los bingueros by Mariano Ozores, Sé infiel y no mires con quién and El año de las luces by Fernando Trueba, La vida alegre by Fernando Colomo, El pecador impecable by Augusto Martínez Torres, and the TVE series Los pazos de Ulloa by Gonzalo Suárez — as well as other television projects with Mario Camus and Pilar Miró.
It is easy to imagine how her kind, precise and persevering way of working soon captivated every director and crew she encountered.
I do not think it is any exaggeration to say that, at that precise moment, Spanish cinema began to change.
Over the course of her extensive career, Esther has received numerous prestigious awards. Some, such as the National Film Award and the Donostia Award, which the San Sebastián Film Festival presented to her only two months ago, have shone their light for the first time on a certain discipline, production, rarely recognised with such outstanding honours.
Helping to showcase the authorship and decisive creative contribution of producers, illuminating a profession that so often remains in the shadows, is yet another of Esther’s invaluable contributions to this complex art of filmmaking.
A large slice of her career and life has been linked to brothers Pedro and Agustín Almodóvar, with whom she has worked continuously since the filming of Matador in 1986. Nearly forty years together, encompassing some of the most important and internationally acclaimed titles in Spanish cinema: La ley del deseo, Mujeres al borde de un ataque de nervios, Átame, La flor de mi secreto, Todo sobre mi madre, Hable con ella, La mala educación, Volver, Los abrazos rotos, La piel que habito, Dolor y gloria, Madres paralelas, La habitación de al lado … and Amarga navidad, due for release next year.
Beyond all the films directed by Pedro Almodóvar since 1986, Esther García has also led the production of other filmmakers’ works through El Deseo: Acción mutante by Álex de la Iglesia, Tengo una casa by Mónica Laguna, El espinazo del diablo by Guillermo del Toro, Pasajes by Daniel Calparsoro, Mi vida sin mí, La vida secreta de las palabrasand Nieva en Benidorm by Isabel Coixet, El patio de mi cárcelby Belén Macías, and Sirat by Óliver Laxe, selected to represent Spain at the upcoming Oscars.
Her unwavering commitment to building bridges between countries includes significant collaborations with Argentine productions such as Relatos salvajes by Damián Szifron, El último verano de la Boyita by Julia Solomonoff, and La niña santa, La mujer rubiaand Zamaby Lucrecia Martel.
An active member of CIMA (the Association of Women Filmmakers and Audiovisual Media), her social and feminist engagement has also found an eloquent mirror in documentary filmmaking. Con la pata quebradaand Manda huevos, both directed by Diego Galán, offer meticulous analyses of gender roles in Spanish cinema. El silencio de otros, by Almudena Carracedo — filmed over more than six years — addresses another of Esther García’s enduring concerns: historical memory.
“Not one step back, comrades!” she cried from the stage of the Kursaal, holding up her Donostia award in September.
Not one step back.
Thank you, Esther.
You have had to invent new rules to get where you are today. You have shown that it is possible to coordinate hundreds of crews without raising your voice. That dialogue is the truest foundation of authority. That no problem is alien to you. That passion, care and enthusiasm are contagious. That we are all essential when working towards a common goal. And that cinema really can move the world.
Paz Sufrategui
