‘The Beloved’ Review: Javier Bardem Makes a Meal Out of Rodrigo Sorogoyen’s Movie-Making Buffet [B]

In 1990, Francis Ford Coppola, seeking several reversals of fortune after years of critical and commercial struggles, directed The Godfather Part III, starring Al Pacino, Andy Garcia, and Sofia Coppola, his 18-year-old daughter. Sofia Coppola was a last-minute replacement for Winona Ryder, who dropped out of playing Mary Corleone due to exhaustion. It was a gamble, as much of the film was for Francis. At best, it would announce the re-emergence of one of the era’s most accomplished filmmakers. At worst, it would codify his struggles and damage the reputations of one of the most storied films of the New Hollywood era and its stars.

I mention this because watching El Ser Querido (The Beloved) often felt like a loose adaptation of that complicated production, albeit with some important tweaks. The Francis Ford Coppola stand-in is Esteban Martínez (Javier Bardem), an acclaimed director who is seeking a return to Spanish cinema after years away. He has chosen his daughter, Emilia (Victoria Luengo), to shepherd the project, even though they have been estranged for most of her life and has her own career struggles to consider. Emilia knows this and voices her concerns over a testy opening lunchtime conversation, but Esteban insists that she has the innate gifts he is looking for to make their film a success.

To be clear, there is no evidence that Francis and Sofia were ever estranged. (The Coppolas are a notoriously close-knit clan.) However, everything else about The Beloved sits well alongside The Godfather Part III, intentional or otherwise. Rodrigo Sorogoyen immediately lays out the stakes, showcasing the intricacies of the on-set dynamics and the ways Esteban and Emilia struggle to meet the moment. Esteban’s director of photography catches onto Emilia’s inexperience right away and tells Esteban that his plan isn’t working. He ignores the concerns, insisting that she’ll eventually get into the right groove.

Of course, Esteban has his own problems. An on-set interview with a Spanish journalist reveals the skepticism he faces from the industry and his fear that the media are only interested in writing hit pieces about him. After the interview, Esteban walks in on Emilia and the rest of the cast enjoying drinks in the hotel lobby. Rather than perceiving it as a key bonding moment that shows Emilia’s progress within the crew, Esteban stares with irritated curiosity, likely assuming they’re joking at his expense. It’s another facet of the behavior we saw when Esteban and Emilia met at the start of the film: a deep self-possession that warps reality for him and everyone around him, to everyone’s detriment. 

With so many opportunities for mixed messages and crossed wires, there is little room on the table for Esteban and Emilia to express their true feelings. Sorogoyen addresses that gap with a very clever and effective visual cue. He occasionally switches from color to black-and-white cinematography, as if we’re watching a behind-the-scenes look at what’s happening on set and screen. It’s a signal to us that the characters in the frame are at their most honest and vulnerable. When Emilia is filmed this way, we see her doubt her acting abilities and be conflicted by the sight of Esteban with her half-siblings. With Esteban, the black-and-white shots show the director’s frustration with his crew’s inability to meet his exacting standards and his fear that this reflects his own failures. Those back-and-forth flourishes ratchet up the tension between Esteban, Emilia, and everyone on set, capturing it in a tightly closed bottle until it’s ready to explode.

That explosion comes in The Beloved’s centerpiece, one of the most tension-filled scenes in film this year. After being shaped by relatively short scenes and quick cuts throughout Esteban’s filmmaking process, the film slows down to center on a presumably low-stakes shoot at a dinner table. The shoot follows a complete breakdown of communication between Esteban and Emilia the night before, leaving the two creatives on edge. While Emilia tries to focus on the scene, Esteban reverts to destructive old habits. He needles his camera operator for failing to properly frame the scene, and his lead actor for not eating properly. Esteban demands take after take from his increasingly worn-down cast and crew, growing progressively more irate as he shouts at them and even grabs the camera to put it in their faces. Sorogoyen pushes the stress to almost-unbearable levels by deploying his black-and-white visual cues in the scene, blurring the lines between Esteban and Emilia’s internal and external emotions.

Besides being The Beloved’s emotional lynchpin, it is a startlingly effective showcase for Javier Bardem and Victoria Luengo. Bardem is at his most mercurial best here, his indefatigable gaze capable of either captivating or cutting you down with its intensity. The latter can be genuinely terrifying, especially when the camera pulls in closer to his face and leaves no room for escape. Bardem is an overwhelming presence, the kind that could blow everyone but the most entrenched performers off the screen. Luengo is one such actress, matching his fire with her own sharp tenacity and easy charisma that perfectly contrasts his prickliness. Her ability to go toe-to-toe with Bardem makes her portrayal of Emilia’s self-doubt about her acting abilities and her sense of undesirability compared to Esteban’s younger children even more heartbreaking.

Sadly, The Beloved sputters somewhat after the dinner-table shoot, losing its driving tension as Emilia and Esteban seek to make sense of their ordeal and whether they have made any progress at all. The truth is that they were likely never going to fully reconcile, just like The Godfather Part III was likely never going to be the complete reversal of fortune that Francis Ford Coppola was banking heavily on. That doesn’t mean the three endeavors weren’t worthwhile. In The Beloved’s case, the film is an intriguing examination of what happens when the purportedly healing creative process fails, and of the circumstances that cause it to fail. Through Esteban and Emilia’s troubled shoot, we get a glimpse of what must be sacrificed – ego, pride, creative control – to achieve reconciliation. Given what we’re talking about, it’s a wonder that films manage to get made at all. In that vein, perhaps The Beloved, like its fictional and real-life forebears, confirms that moviemaking truly is a miracle.

Grade: B

This review is from the 2026 Cannes Film Festival where The Beloved had its world premiere In Competition.