auded in their homeland, Spanish directing duo Los Javis (aka Javier Calvo and Javier Ambrossi) also have a burgeoning international reputation. Glenn Close was apparently such a fan of their 2023 series , a brilliantly bizarre thriller about a girl-group trapped inside a cult, that she snapped up a role in their equally remarkable new film. La bola negra has already dazzled at this year’s Cannes Film Festival, where Los Javis won the Best Director award jointly with Polish auteur Paweł Pawlikowski. Now it looks like a shoo-in for a slew of Oscar nominations including the biggest one of all: Best Picture.

There’s certainly no faulting Los Javis’ ambition. (which translates to in English) is an interlinked triptych that takes place in 1932, 1937 and 2017; it unfolds partly against the backdrop of the Spanish Civil War, which allows Penélope Cruz to make a wonderful extended cameo as a bawdy forces’ sweetheart. But for the most part, the directors are far more interested in a different battle – namely, the ongoing struggle for queer acceptance and dignity. They set out their stall early on with a grandiose visual nod to religious and queer icon Saint Sebastian. And by the time reaches its melodramatic climax, you’ll be hugely moved.

may luxuriate in its 159-minute runtime, but the three strands eventually coalesce beautifully. In 1932, conflicted scion Carlos (Milo Quifes) is denied membership of a prestigious casino because the grizzled gatekeepers – essentially the local patriarchy writ large – don’t think he fits the bill. The fact Carlos spends his time with several other confirmed bachelors seems to be a red (or should that be pink?) flag. Meanwhile, in a separate narrative that takes place five years later, aspiring musician Sebastián (singer-songwriter Guitarricadelafuente) is forced to join the Spanish nationalist army after his village is bombed by the Italian troops who support this quasi-fascist movement.

Sebastián is tasked with monitoring Rafael (Miguel Bernardeau), a wounded prisoner-of-war from the opposite side, and their hesitant friendship becomes the film’s beating heart. As the 1930s strands grow roots, Los Javis also return to 2017, where queer historian Alberto (Carlos González) is squabbling with his mother (Lola Dueñas) and wondering why he’s mentioned in the will of a grandfather he never met. It’s all so sprawling but surefooted that Los Javis even squeeze in an appearance from real-life playwright Federico García Lorca (Alberto Cortés), who was closeted during his lifetime and died before his 40th birthday. Later on, Close makes an elegant cameo as an American academic who has a poignant reason for finding Lorca’s story so compelling.

isn’t a flawless masterpiece. The 2017 section is sometimes a little humdrum, at least compared to the glorious 1930s portions, and if you go in knowing little about the Spanish Civil War, you won’t leave feeling enlightened. But it is a terrifically stylish, tremendously moving film that reaffirms an incontrovertible truth – that when people are forced to hide who they are, absolutely no one wins. Bring on all those Oscar nominations.