50 years of "Who can kill a child?": the other boom of horror cinema in Spain

In 1976, Spanish cinema witnessed the release of ¿Quién puede matar a un niño?, a film that would become a defining work of horror during Spain's transition from dictatorship to democracy. This year marks its 50th anniversary, offering a chance to revisit a movie that captured both the fears and frustrations of a nation emerging from decades of repression. Directed by Narciso Ibáñez Serrador, the film was shot in locations such as Ciruelos, Sitges, Almuñécar, and Menorca, blending the idyllic beauty of rural Spain with unsettling elements that reflected the country’s turbulent political climate. The film follows the journey of Tom and his pregnant wife, Evelyn, who travel to a quiet island off the coast seeking respite from the summer crowds. As they explore this seemingly peaceful setting, strange occurrences begin to unfold, creating an atmosphere of suspense and dread. The soundtrack, composed by Waldo de los Ríos, plays a crucial role in shifting the tone from serene coastal scenes to eerie moments of tension. The contrast between the couple’s initial comfort and the growing sense of danger mirrors the broader societal shift occurring in Spain at the time. Scholars have long interpreted ¿Quién puede matar a un niño? as more than just a horror film, it serves as a metaphorical reflection of the uncertainties surrounding Spain’s post-Franco era. Guillermo González Hernández, author of ¿Quién puede matar a un niño? (1976): El cine de terror como alegoría de la incertidumbre postfranquista, argues that the film encapsulates the anxieties of a society grappling with the aftermath of authoritarian rule. Drawing parallels to the works of Samuel Steinberg, who analyzed the film in Franco’s Kids: Geopolitics and Postdictatorship in ¿Quién puede matar a un niño?, González highlights how Ibáñez Serrador brought the genre into the domestic sphere, making the horror feel personal and immediate. The film’s reception in Spain was mixed, but it found greater success abroad, particularly in Italy, where it surpassed the box office earnings of Jaws. This international acclaim underscored the film’s ability to transcend cultural boundaries while still resonating with local audiences. According to Steinberg, the movie exposed the disparity between the idealized image of Spain promoted internationally and the raw reality of violence and unrest within the country. For many viewers, the film became a symbolic representation of the nation’s struggle to reconcile its past with its uncertain future. During the late 1970s, Spanish cinema experienced a surge in horror films that pushed creative and thematic boundaries. These movies often featured graphic content, including depictions of violence and sexuality, which were previously considered taboo under Franco’s regime. The period saw the production of nearly 200 horror films, most of them produced under the banner of Profilmes, a studio known for its bold approach to storytelling. Among the notable figures of this era was Jacinto Molina, better known as Paul Naschy, whose work embodied the spirit of artistic liberation following years of censorship. Molina once described the act of portraying violent acts on screen as a form of catharsis, a way to break free from the constraints imposed by the dictatorship. His words reflect the broader sentiment among filmmakers and actors who used their craft to process the trauma of living under repression. The rise of horror films during this time marked a turning point in Spanish cinema, allowing for a more open exploration of social issues and human emotions. As Spain moved toward democracy, the cinematic landscape evolved alongside it. Horror films like ¿Quién puede matar a un niño? played a vital role in shaping public discourse, offering a space for both fear and hope. Today, the film stands as a testament to the power of cinema to mirror and influence the cultural and political shifts of its time. Its legacy continues to resonate, reminding audiences of the enduring connection between art and the realities of history.