A pitch-dark Spanish dramedy, The Coffee Table, gets lavish treatment from boutique label Second Sight Films.
The Production: 4/5
The Coffee Table (La mesita del comedor) is a paradox — in more ways than one. First and foremost, it’s a film you want those unaware of to walk in knowing as little as possible, but also a film you immediately want to tell everyone you know about as soon as it’s concluded. It is a horror film, albeit one with an obsidian-dark sense of humor — the laughs release (some) tension, even as they also catch in your throat. It is a domestic drama, although one shot through with near-psychedelic and quasi-spiritual undertones, even it also weaves in some incendiary subject matter in an astonishingly casual way, to the point where it’s unclear whether the filmmakers truly grasp the gravity of what is being portrayed.
But above all, what The Coffee Table is not is boring. Director, editor and co-writer (with Cristina Borobia) Caye Casas has fashioned one of cinema’s more talked about works with this 2022 follow-up to his 2017 feature-length debut Killing God. Deceptive in its mundane set-up, The Coffee Table becomes a provocative meditation about the nature of relationships, a blend of melodrama and farce which plays as deadly serious and a gradual descent into hell.
In an effort to preserve the experience for those who haven’t watched Casas’s film, I’m going to refrain from providing much in the way of plot — suffice to say even the most well-versed film fan may be truly shaken by where The Coffee Table concludes. The story revolves around Jesus (David Pareja) and Maria (Estefania de los Santos), a married couple whose relationship is strained by the birth of their son, Cayetano. As the film begins, they’re squabbling in a furniture store, alternately observed and goaded by the sleazy salesman (Eduardo Antuna), over whether the titular, somewhat tacky piece of furniture should accompany them home. Jesus is insistent, despite Maria’s disgust with the table, but eventually, she relents and the young family returns home.
From there, all anyone really needs to understand is that things go very awry very quickly, and the narrative spins out from there. There are subplots about pedophilia and sibling rivalry, and a sustained dread which builds to excruciating levels as the relatively lean film (90 minutes) unspools. Pareja, in particular, does extraordinary work as a man whose entire world seems to be disintegrating, and he’s well matched by de los Santos, whose role appears to be a shallow, one-note riff on the harried, hectoring wife, before it transforms into something else altogether. Indeed, there are moments when The Coffee Table (which was reportedly filmed in just 10 days) verges on something like a stage play, were it not for the cannily deployed cinematic techniques Casas employs to place viewers fully inside the Spanish apartment.
The Coffee Table may leave viewers wondering precisely how to feel from moment to moment, and in that sense, Casas’s work is descended from a long line of bleakly comic dramas (such as Very Bad Things, Death to Smoochy or Todd Solondz’s Happiness). Walking the tightrope between tragedy and comedy is a difficult thing to accomplish, but one which Casas and his collaborators pull off to thrilling, nauseating effect. You may love The Coffee Table or you may loathe it, but this much is certain: You will not forget it.
Video: 5/5
3D Rating: NA
The Coffee Table is presented by Second Sight Films in a 2.35:1 anamorphic widescreen transfer in 1080p resolution. Given the film’s recent vintage, it’s no surprise what’s here looks superb from beginning to end — the image is clear, clean and crisp, and director of photography Alberto Morago’s dynamic compositions are vividly rendered. The level of detail, whether it’s the haunted face of Jesus or the gaudy piece of titular furniture, is excellent throughout, and colors, particularly the sickeningly vivid crimson of spilled blood, are vibrant and well-saturated.
Audio: 5/5
Sound plays a vital role in conjuring the queasy atmosphere of The Coffee Table, and the included Spanish DTS-HD MA 5.1 more than pulls its weight. As with the visual presentation, it’s unsurprising that the quality of the track is solid, with dialogue heard clearly and free from distortion or drop-out. The surround channels offer detailed ambient support, and also kick in at various moments to further fill out the world of the film — the subtle effects as Jesus descends into paranoid hallucinations, particularly during the dinner sequence, are deftly presented. Optional English subtitles are also presented.
Special Features: 5/5
The London-based Second Sight Films, founded in 1994, has firmly established itself as one of the world’s leading boutique Blu-ray labels on the strength of its limited editions, and this lavish release of The Coffee Table is no exception to its high standards. (It should be noted this particular release is region-free, so those interested outside the UK can purchase without the need for a region-specific disc player.)
The Blu-ray contains a new commentary track featuring horror film journalist Zoe Rose Smith and film writer/reviewer Amber T, alongside four newly filmed interviews: “What Scares Us the Most,” with director Caye Casas (23:07; Spanish Dolby Digital 2.0 stereo; 1.78:1 anamorphic widescreen); “A Sensory Journey,” with actor David Pareja (15:21; Spanish Dolby Digital 2.0 stereo; 1.78:1 anamorphic widescreen); “We Are All Nuts,” with actor Estefania de los Santos (12:33; Spanish Dolby Digital 2.0 stereo; 1.78:1 anamorphic widescreen), and “Natural Oppression,” with director of photography Alberto Morago (11:33; Spanish Dolby Digital 2.0 stereo; 1.78:1 anamorphic widescreen). Film critic Rebecca Sayce’s visual essay “Postpartum” (19:33; English Dolby Digital 2.0 stereo; 1.78:1 anamorphic widescreen) and a pair of Casas’ short films — RIP (16:12; Spanish DTS-HD MA 5.1; 2.35:1 anamorphic widescreen) and Nada S.A. (16:06; Spanish Dolby Digital 2.0 stereo; 2.35:1 anamorphic widescreen) — completes the disc.
The disc, housed in a rigid slipcase featuring new artwork by Luke Headland, is accompanied by a 120-page, softcover book with essays from writers Anton Bitel, Jennie Kermode, Joe Lipsett, Shelagh Rowan-Legg, Josh Slater-Williams and Dolores Quintana, alongside storyboard comparisons, and six collector’s art cards. (There is also a standard edition of The Coffee Table being released concurrently.)
Overall: 5/5
The Coffee Table (La mesita del comedor) is a paradox — in more ways than one. First and foremost, it’s a film you want those unaware of to walk in knowing as little as possible, but also a film you immediately want to tell everyone you know about as soon as it’s concluded. It is a horror film, albeit one with an obsidian-dark sense of humor — the laughs release (some) tension, even as they also catch in your throat. It is a domestic drama, although one shot through with near-psychedelic and quasi-spiritual undertones, even it also weaves in some incendiary subject matter in an astonishingly casual way, to the point where it’s unclear whether the filmmakers truly grasp the gravity of what is being portrayed.
But above all, what The Coffee Table is not is boring. Director, editor and co-writer (with Cristina Borobia) Caye Casas has fashioned one of cinema’s more talked about works with this 2022 follow-up to his 2017 feature-length debut Killing God. Deceptive in its mundane set-up, The Coffee Table becomes a provocative meditation about the nature of relationships, a blend of melodrama and farce which plays as deadly serious and a gradual descent into hell.
The London-based Second Sight Films, founded in 1994, has firmly established itself as one of the world’s leading boutique Blu-ray labels on the strength of its limited editions, and this lavish release of The Coffee Table is no exception to its high standards. Fans of the film should seek out this handsome, region-free set, while those curious might do well to check out the standard edition. Highly recommended.
(the Limited Edition is more difficult to track down)
Post Disclaimer
Some of our content may contain marketing links, which means we will receive a commission for purchases made via those links. In our editorial content, these affiliate links appear automatically, and our editorial teams are not influenced by our affiliate partnerships. We work with several providers (currently Skimlinks and Amazon) to manage our affiliate relationships. You can find out more about their services by visiting their sites.
Similar threads