So much time waiting for the apocalypse that, when it happens, we are oblivious to it. But here at the Night(s) + Freak at the Las Palmas de Gran Canaria International Film Festival, we are. Here, we know that we already live in post-apocalyptic, post-pandemic and post-everything else times; that we do not sit in cinema seats but on the remains of industrial civilization; and that we do not battle zombies, we are zombies. But we do not care: we devour each other, vomit and reinvent ourselves for another year, with our weird, crazy, fantastic, nostalgic and futuristic shorts and feature films (is there a difference?).

Facing the return to the countryside, the escape to the natural paradise that proposed by many, freak cinema reminds us of the hazards of the rural utopias of the 19th century. With GHOSTS OF THE OZARKS, a Weird Western —or traditionally: fantawestern— a hark back to American Gothic and Folk Horror, which tells us what Shyamalan hushed up in THE VILLAGE. The second feature film by the independents (they really are) Matt Glass and Jordan Wayne Long, and the premiere in Spain, a warning to the old hippies about how communal dreams tend to end in the naive American transcendentalist style of Thoreau and Longfellow. You had better pay attention to its soundtrack and the musical interlude featuring Angela Bettis and Tim Blake Nelson. We do not want to fill up an empty Spain after watching EVERYONE WILL BURN, the second feature film by David Hebrero, after his curious DULCINEA. Following in the footsteps of 30 COINS —exploitation is a sign of clarity and good mental health— but with its own personality. As if David Lynch were on holiday in an austere village in León, meeting Berlanga and Azcona, with the Castilian wardrobes of his stone mansions full of skeletons and reading William Blake’s poems. Plus a smidgeon of Italian imitation of THE OMEN or ROSEMARY’S BABY. We take our hats off (or, since we are not wearing one, we lift the lid of our brains) to the historical and hysterical interpretation of Macarena Gómez, our personal Goya for best actress (from the Goya of witches and black paintings, of course).

To round off our living room with a bed, two raw and precious stones, harvested at the 4661 Yebes-Valdeluz Space and Sci-Fi Short Film Fest Contest: THE AMAZING VACCINE OF DOCTOR DICKINSON, post-pandemic hooliganism, well animated by Álex Rey; and MY NAME IS KOJI, by David Muñoz, a hilarious tribute to the offspring of Mazinger Z, without shame but with a large dose of humour. That’s it. The apocalypse is old news. And here we continue: fragmented, disintegrated, but just as freaky or more so than ever.