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Ester Expósito, Malena Villa and Mathilde Ollivier star in 'El llanto', a metaphor about sexist violence

The patriarchy’s grip is serpentine, its reach endless. In Pedro Martín-Calero’s El Llanto, it is laid bare, unrelenting and without respite. Beyond the raw violence we cannot ignore, there exists an even more corrosive force—the quiet erosion of our very sanity, a force that clings to women across generations. The comparisons, the suffocating expectations, the silent battles—they eat away at the core of what it means to be us. Malena, Mathilde, and I stand as faces of this truth, separated by time, but bound by the weight of an ancient system. On this crisp autumn morning in Madrid, we do not just perform—we claim our voices, our rage, our right to resist.
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Cinema has always been the art that mirrors our innermost shadows, a space where beauty and truth collide. In El llanto, I step into Andrea’s unraveling world, a girl caught in time, haunted by ghosts only she can see. There is a certain elegance in isolation, in those moments when the silence of the universe becomes overwhelming, pushing you to the brink of madness. The characters I portray are not merely written on a page—they exist, shaped by history, their lives stained with the invisible ink of patriarchy.
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I find power in bringing their stories to life, embodying the sultry mystery and fragile strength that define them. With every frame, I feel the weight of their journey, a reflection of the deep-rooted fears and desires that reside within all of us. Cinema has this unique ability to transform us, to peel back the layers of our souls and reveal the truths we often hide. Through these characters, I channel that transformative energy, one that is both delicate and fierce.
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