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by Jason Adams
I never got to see my grandfather’s farm. The land was sold off and the barns and the stables were all torn down before I was born, all so a series of electricity transmission towers could be built across the middle of it. When I was a little kid my father and I would visit my grandparents small home perched astride where the farm used to be and my father would walk me out and point up at the towers in a field out behind their house, telling me how those towers stretched across the entire state. He always seemed proud, strangely in awe of them, as if those were our inheritance somehow. And I couldn’t stop thinking about those towers while watching Carla Simón’s melancholy and moving Alcarràs at NYFF this week.
This film, about peach farmers on the other side of the globe spending one last summer on the precipice of losing their home, land, and farm, seemed to be offering genuine insight into my own family and history...
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