Daniel Sanchez Arevalo's latest film Azul poses the issue of the definition of Spanishness. This director is hailed as the new Almodovar, who is known for his tormented heroes and heroines, shocking plots, transgender sexuality, pathos, virtuosity and sheer brilliance. These characteristics partially apply to Azul: a film in which the hero, Jorge, has to look after his invalid widower of a father after he had a heart attack the day when Jorge attempted to set fire to a bin outside the building where they live, refusing thereby to become what is father is and wants him to become: a porter. This fire sets the tone and starts the film: its ashes cover the rest of the story with their dark hue. It will be a leitmotiv for the turning points of the film, at two other moments. All in all, it is a film in three acts, like a short tragedy, or more exactly a tragicomedy, where pathos and bathos mingle, where tears jostle with laughter, where sudden revelations and decisions alter the life of a character for ever. This leads to the theme of Spanishness: this film is very Spanish. The characters are larger than life, outrageous, temperamental, unpredictable and their sexual drives are bared for all to see, watch and even photograph and hold againts one another... And out of this apparent cacophony of subplots, out of the disorder of the events, there remains a lasting anf final impression of unity, of beauty and tranquillity. Order restored, as clear as a blue sky, whose colour is that of the title. 
