I returned to direct the short film for Temporada Alta after two years. The reasons were circumstantial, but this return gave me the opportunity to address a topic that had been on my mind: actors.
Although I once tried to step into their shoes (gaining a slightly better understanding of them), actors have always been hard for me to grasp. Even though some of my friends are actors, when it came to work, I often avoided collaborating with them and almost always preferred filming with “non-professionals”—whether out of confusion, fear, or a peculiar respect that made them feel distant. As if they were beings of light or some kind of elusive unicorns.
The truth is, I wanted to break this barrier, to put them at the center, giving them the lead role in the opening short film for the Temporada Alta Festival.
Based on the idea that the best way to honor or recognize them was by turning them into true protagonists, I needed to create an environment where they had complete creative freedom and responsibility. They wouldn’t just be tools serving a script, a concept, or a director, but would somehow become, at the same time, the writers, directors, and lead actors.
My role in this project was essentially to set the ground rules, establish boundaries, and come up with a premise: the filming of a commercial on a sailboat, featuring two lead actors and a musician, where the product being “sold” was, essentially, the actor themselves.
There was no script, no rehearsals—just a dinner (which went on for a long time) with the actors to figure out how to make a short film in a single day, using nothing but everyone’s talent and the desire to collaborate creatively. The shoot was more like a performance: one actor (Pol López) would act as director—meaning the technical crew had to follow his lead—while the other actor would be the "product" being sold (Oriol Pla), and we also had a third actor/musician (Ramon Bassal) to provide musical accompaniment.
There would be no clear division between the artistic and technical teams, which were kept very small. Everyone would have to take on multiple roles, more like a circus troupe than a traditional film crew. No one would be certain when we were filming and when we weren't; we all had to move in front of and behind the camera with equal ease, trying to create a kind of game of reflections that enhanced the overall sense of confusion. The July heat, seasickness, and an exhausting day of filming did the rest, helping us get closer to creating something truly unique—to capture the light, to find that special moment.
The end result is a sixteen-minute comedy, ironically titled Les Étoiles (The Stars). And yes, it certainly talks about actors and their vulnerabilities, but I would say it also—perhaps even more so—speaks about directors and their shortcomings.
Salvador Sunyer
Although I once tried to step into their shoes (gaining a slightly better understanding of them), actors have always been hard for me to grasp. Even though some of my friends are actors, when it came to work, I often avoided collaborating with them and almost always preferred filming with “non-professionals”—whether out of confusion, fear, or a peculiar respect that made them feel distant. As if they were beings of light or some kind of elusive unicorns.
The truth is, I wanted to break this barrier, to put them at the center, giving them the lead role in the opening short film for the Temporada Alta Festival.
Based on the idea that the best way to honor or recognize them was by turning them into true protagonists, I needed to create an environment where they had complete creative freedom and responsibility. They wouldn’t just be tools serving a script, a concept, or a director, but would somehow become, at the same time, the writers, directors, and lead actors.
My role in this project was essentially to set the ground rules, establish boundaries, and come up with a premise: the filming of a commercial on a sailboat, featuring two lead actors and a musician, where the product being “sold” was, essentially, the actor themselves.
There was no script, no rehearsals—just a dinner (which went on for a long time) with the actors to figure out how to make a short film in a single day, using nothing but everyone’s talent and the desire to collaborate creatively. The shoot was more like a performance: one actor (Pol López) would act as director—meaning the technical crew had to follow his lead—while the other actor would be the "product" being sold (Oriol Pla), and we also had a third actor/musician (Ramon Bassal) to provide musical accompaniment.
There would be no clear division between the artistic and technical teams, which were kept very small. Everyone would have to take on multiple roles, more like a circus troupe than a traditional film crew. No one would be certain when we were filming and when we weren't; we all had to move in front of and behind the camera with equal ease, trying to create a kind of game of reflections that enhanced the overall sense of confusion. The July heat, seasickness, and an exhausting day of filming did the rest, helping us get closer to creating something truly unique—to capture the light, to find that special moment.
The end result is a sixteen-minute comedy, ironically titled Les Étoiles (The Stars). And yes, it certainly talks about actors and their vulnerabilities, but I would say it also—perhaps even more so—speaks about directors and their shortcomings.
Salvador Sunyer
