‘Casa en llamas ('A House on Fire')’ REVIEW: F is for family and flames
‘Casa en llamas ('A House on Fire')’ REVIEW: F is for family and flames
Maria Rodríguez Soto as Júlia with Emma Vilarasau as Montse | Still courtesy of VerCine
If you were inside a house engulfed in flames, who would you want to save you?
This is the burning question at the heart of Dani de la Orden’s Casa en llamas (Catalan: Casa en flames; English: A House on Fire), a satirical comedy that follows Montse, an estranged matriarch portrayed by Emma Vilarasau, as she summons her children, Júlia and David, enacted by Maria Rodríguez Soto and Enric Auquer, in an attempt to sell their summer house along the coast of Costa Brava. Their volatile dynamics are further complicated by the involvement of her children’s partners along with the arrival of her ex-husband Carlos as he brings his new girlfriend — and therapist — Blanca, played by Alberto San Juan and Clara Segura.
As tensions rise in this idyllic retreat, long-buried secrets and grievances gradually come to the forefront through moments that ignite fiery confrontations among the members of this modern family. A layered narrative then unfolds, revealing the depths and contrasts of their relationships that are as rocky as the landscape of Cadaqués where their house sits still — a town brimming with stony coastlines, pebble-ridden beaches, and secluded coves, vividly captured through stunning cinematography that serves as a backdrop against the emotional undercurrents of their intertwined lives.
A standout scene in the film’s first act perfectly illustrates just how relatable this family is. Just outside their home where nothing seems to go wrong, we find Júlia and David at their wits’ end, desperately trying to keep their father’s girlfriend a secret from their mother. Despite their clashing personalities, they share a bond forged in loyalty and protectiveness that anyone with siblings can surely relate to. Humor takes the center stage but it also hints at the underlying tension as their efforts to avoid conflict inevitably backfire, leading to a collision between their parents — all while Júlia’s innocent kids mimic their profanities. Together, these elements create layers of chaos, making the situation both funny and poignantly familiar.
As the impending sale of this once-beloved home becomes a battleground for roasts and resentments, we are invited to see how the characters reflect on their complicated connections with parents, children, and loved ones. With an incredibly personal concept from de la Orden and sharp, grounded writing from Eduard Sola, Casa en llamas deftly plays its hand at presenting a portrait of a family on fire — where the embers of love and past wounds converge into a dangerous combustion of emotions.
Enric Auquer as David with Macarena García as Marta | Still courtesy of VerCine
F is for family and flames — bonds that both bind and burn us. But apart from being a destructive force of nature, fire is also the beginning of freedom; a burgeoning warmth that lets you start over, like a phoenix rising from the ashes of a burnt-out cycle of expectations and frustrations. The brilliance of de la Orden and Sola’s craftsmanship is embedded in the world they built and the characters they brought to life, exposing how guilt, manipulation, narcissism, and regret can permeate the very fabric of familial relationships — a bittersweet tapestry providing both solace and strife.
Casa en llamas entices you with laughter and good times before revealing its darker realities, much like how manipulative individuals often present an idealized facade before exposing their true nature. This gradual reveal mirrors how people can be lured into abusive situations under the guise of warm affection. For instance, a particular exchange in the film shows just how easy it is for Montse to influence her child’s partner into changing their mind and making them leave, twisting their realities and emotions in order to serve her own selfish interest of keeping her children close and running to her for help.
As this crucible unravels avenues for introspection, we are left to witness how relentless arguments and patterns of psychological abuse shape the behavior and identities of our characters, desperately trying to escape the tightening grip of familial obligations. A master in building intricate arcs and weaving narrative threads, de la Orden uses pacing to maintain a steady momentum that effectively moves the story forward in the most naturalistic way — a painstaking experience that resonates deeply with me, having endured decades of abuse within a dysfunctional household.
Living in such a turbulent environment marked my days void and mundane, leaving me with the dreadful weight of becoming numb to the pain which ultimately created a distorted sense of normalcy. Much like the people in Casa en llamas, who carry the burden of unresolved conflicts and emotional scars, my own ordeals echo the disorienting impact of generational trauma. I was held back by the very same people who were supposed to nurture my growth; I often felt like I was never allowed to fully flourish. This draws parallels to how the characters turn out to be stunted in ways unimaginable, denied of personal growth by parents who, in their own flawed ways, cling to them in a suffocating pattern of codependency. As much as the children want to get away, they are still tied to their parents, unable to fully break free. The parents, on the other hand, seem to need their children for validation, creating a vicious cycle that lures them in the stranglehold of their shared history.
In retrospect, I find myself grappling with the haunting question: how could you possibly heal when you are still trapped in the same toxic space? The narrative doesn't offer an easy answer, but its courage lies in showing just how crazy and convoluted relationships can be. Casa en llamas is rapid-fire storytelling at its finest — where clever dialogue ebbs and flows over picturesque views, disguising the deep fractures that lie underneath this Catalan family.
Alberto San Juan as Carlos beside Vilarasau as Montse, surrounded by the family | Still courtesy of VerCine
The film offers a brutal yet poignant commentary on generational trauma as it plunges its audiences into the troubled waters of deception, pulling them inside a twisted reality where morals and boundaries become blurred and each interaction adds another layer of manipulation on top of fraught trust. The cast’s impeccable performances really bring the screenplay to life, creating an immersive experience as if you are a close observer standing face-to-face with the drama and humor that surprisingly breaks through the levels of their collective despair.
Humor, in the microcosm of Casa en llamas, aside from being comic relief, is a survival mechanism. They use it in ways akin to a shield and a sword — either they hide behind their biting banters or they launch snide remarks as if they were weapons in defense of their emotional fortresses in distress. The characters joke about the overwhelming struggles they’ve been all too familiar with, inviting viewers to laugh along with them like it’s the most normal thing in the world. More often than not, it's so unhinged and absurd that it’s almost painfully funny, revealing the strange ways in which trauma and dysfunction can manifest under the unassuming mask of hilarity. The laughter, much like their peace, is always only a fleeting moment of respite that sprung from their attempts to escape their tragic reality.
The palpable dark humor strikes a balance with its more serious undertones, unpacking how family dynamics can deteriorate into a downward spiral. Casa en llamas captures that mess with sharp wit and surprisingly well-rounded portrayals of its flawed yet relatable characters as it explores the cynical and cyclical nature of generational trauma, where family members get trapped in roles they cannot abandon, doomed to repeat the sins of their past.
It's bittersweet how these individuals, in all their faults and virtues, come to rely on each other, no matter how toxic their environment is. The outsiders in the story, however, know when to leave — which is often the hardest thing to do. The story beats of the film, fueled with symbolic touches like a flickering cigarette butt, convey the slow burn and insidious erosion of their familial ties.
A cinematic frame of the family on the beach | Still taken from Time Out Barcelona
As their stories continue to unfold, it made me think of a visual metaphor considering how they spent countless days on the beach. Like an unspoken allegory on how they were built like sand castles on unstable grounds, the family was destined to crumble under the crashing waves and yet they keep building, trying to keep up with appearances. This imagery even extends to a bucket full of crabs, where they pull each other down in futile efforts to take advantage of one another, making sure that no one can outrun their misery. Drawing from this personal reflection, Casa en llamas is certain in challenging the traditional notions of family. It has the guts to ask: what is family, really? Can members of a family truly save each other, or are they bound to be consumed by the flames of their own making?
Blood ties — as depicted in the film and reflected in real life — can only go so far. Sometimes, family is a prison, a unit that holds you down like an anchor sinking your heart and soul. Yet, ironically, it’s also what shapes you since you grow where you are planted, which also means you’re at risk of inheriting the same toxic behaviors of those around you. Casa en llamas reminds us that while you may try to break the cycle and decide that the abuse stops with you, escape isn’t always at arm’s reach. The long and winding journey to healing is not linear, and for some people, the very bonds you need to let go of are the only ones you can cling to.
Ultimately, the film rides us through a rollercoaster of emotions, giving us glimpses of the dysfunction that underpins the raw nature of trauma and survival. Through its candid portrayal of lives bound by blood and burdened by history, Casa en llamas blazes a trail that cuts deep, showing us that life is as funny as it is cruel, and family — for better or worse — is what you make of it.
Casa en llamas (Catalan: Casa en flames; English: A House on Fire) was one of the films screened as part of Instituto Cervantes de Manila’s Película>Pelikula 23ʳᵈ Manila Spanish Film Festival last October 5-13, 2024 at the Shangri-La Plaza Red Carpet Cinemas. It won the Audience Choice award during its run in the festival and is currently this decade’s highest-grossing and most watched Catalan film.
