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This interview was originally published in Spanish magazine Miradas de Cine and can be found here.

This Friday, November 30th, Entre dos aguas is hitting Spanish cinemas after winning the Golden Shell for Best Film at the San Sebastian Festival. In this new film, Isaki Lacuesta returns to San Fernando twelve years after filming The Legend of Time to continue delving into the story of Isra and Cheíto. The two brothers now play characters close to themselves in a hyperrealistic fiction film, and their reunion after taking very different paths in life will force them to confront memories of the violent death of their father, and eventually to reconcile with each other.


The first part of this story, The Legend of Time (2004), is a film that already belongs to the living history of Spanish cinema, so the challenge of continuing it might have perhaps seemed like an impossible challenge. And yet Entre dos aguas is an extraordinary film in which the imprint of time (on the characters, on the neighborhood, but also in some way on the creative team of the film) becomes a central element; a film which only increases the legend status of this cinematic project. In my opinion, one of the most important in 21st century Spanish cinema.


To try to investigate that legend I sat down with Isaki in San Sebastian, and had this long talk in which he shares many keys to the film's creative process and perhaps gives an idea of ​​all the effort, reflection and creative collaboration that is needed to create a work like this one.


Miguel Faus: Let's start at the beginning: how did you meet these two brothers, Isra and Cheíto?

Isaki Lacuesta: Everything was born from our first trip to their neighborhood on the island of San Fernando, which left us fascinated and made us think that we had to make a film to be able to live there, to truly get to know this place and its people. This is one of the things that I find to be most important in the cinema, which is that it allows us to live experiences that our lives, otherwise, would not have led us to live: for example, being able to live in San Fernando, or with the Dogons, or in Perú, or with a Swiss billionaire. Being able to live with a tennis player or a painter. And at that time, what we really wanted was to live in San Fernando.


So, we wrote a script based on things we had seen there and things we imagined, and in that script what we had was that we wanted to find a child who was born in 1992, the year of Camarón's death, a kid who would therefore be 12 years old. That is, someone who had not met Camarón, and who did not even listen to his music, but who, regardless of this, without being conscious of it, would talk, move, dress and comb his hair like Camarón. A kid who unknowingly had that cultural heritage that was so present on the island at the time, in 2004. 


I imagined the story of a child who was a potential flamenco singer but who had to stop singing when puberty arrived, forced by the change in his voice. This was the premise. I remembered Potito, who was a cantaor... well, he is an extraordinary cantaor, but when he reached puberty he had a moment of pause until he was able to adapt to his new voice, and he had a very hard time. With this premise, we started the casting process. We were not looking for that specific story, but looking for a kid that we fell in love with, that we wanted to live with, and we were completely open to what we found in that kid, but we knew that the choice of the protagonist kid would determine who we would live with for the duration of the film, and even then there was, at times, that fantasy that this would develop into a long-term project.


Did you see many children in those castings before you met them?

We saw 400. We had many doubts, but we were really captivated by these brothers, Isra and Cheito. Isra was a boy whose voice had not yet changed, but suddenly when we had chosen him we discovered that he could not sing because he was mourning the death of his father. There was a resemblance with what we had imagined, but it also had another kind of power. And so this friendship was born, this kind of cinematographic family that was formed in The Legend of Time and that has continued through the years (with regular visits to San Fernando and Girona), during which we have always talked about making another film one day.


These conversations about a second film, when did they begin to become actual plans and ideas to make Entre dos aguas?


About 5 years ago we started to take notes seriously, because we realized that a sufficient amount of time had passed, and that the fact that Cheíto was in the military gave us a very narrative point that somehow activated the movie. The simple phrase "Cheíto is in the military and has been in Somalia" already sounds like the beginning of a movie. And from there began that structure of the two brothers, a soldier and a drug dealer, with two opposing, antagonistic worlds... that gave us a plot structure that worked, and we started to work on it.


From here there is was lot of conversations with Isra and Cheito, a lot of traveling to San Fernando, and we wrote several scripts. Some of them were 30 page, like a kind of treatment and declaration of intentions, and others were 100 pages with sequences and dialogues, but all of them were always, in any case, platforms to think about the film, to try to communicate to the team, to our collaborators and the people who have to finance the film how the film will be, to think about what we are doing, and to discover what the film is. But they are scripts and treatments that we never give to the actors, so as not to condition them.


But there was a small shoot before the main shoot, right?

Yes, the childbirth scene. Entre dos aguas is a fiction film that starts with a sequence that is completely true, which is that birth. At that time we still had not closed the funding, but we thought we would be able make the film, and we knew that in any case we had to shoot that childbirth because it might never happen again, so we went with the camera and the crew to wait for Manuela to be born. We also did not know that it would be Manuela [because they did not know if it was a boy or a girl], so it was a completely open moment with no predetermined ending. But the fact is that we spent a month there in Cádiz, with all the crew and the equipment, waiting for the birth of Manuela, who insisted on not being born. And it's the most expensive thing I've ever shot, because of the cost of waiting. But I like the fact that the most expensive thing I've ever shot is not a dinosaur scene, but a childbirth. Because we also really enjoyed that wait. [Laughs.] There's that Kiarostami movie where they're waiting for the death of a woman [The Wind Will Carry Us (1999)], and the team is all locked in a room, anguished... Well, in our case it was the other way around: we were waiting in Cádiz and we were happy. I like to think that making movies can be that.


And how was childbirth? Because curiously this scene which is completely real and documentary, as it could not be otherwise, has quite a lot of cuts and is very edited.

[Laughter] Well after a month waiting, she went into labor and we prepared everything quickly and running and when we were ready with the camera, Rocío arrived and in four minutes the girl was already born. We had four minutes to shoot the whole scene, so we didn't even shoot half a can. So that découpage that you're mentioning was all done very fast.


You said before that during the development and the search for funding you worked with different scripts with different levels of detail.

Yes, but when the pre-production started we already had a detailed the script that we used to make the shooting plan. But the process for us is a constant dialogue between our ideas and the reality that we face (when scouting locations, casting for actors, rehearsing...), and the whole pre-production process is based on finding out what film we are making and what shape it has.


But during that process you always thought of Entre dos aguas as a fiction film, right?

Yes, of course. I insist that it is entirely a fiction film, because saying otherwise would be a lie, and it would disrespect documentary filmmakers, audiences, and the truth itself. Except for the childbirth scene, everything else is pure fiction, although there are times when the characters are playing things that are very close to their real life. For example, Cheíto is indeed in the military and that ship is where he was destined, but he and his comrades are acting for the camera. Actually, I believe that films tell you how they are made, however much we want to cheat: for example, in the military parade scene there is a découpage that would be impossible to achieve if it was shot with a documentary dynamic, so the viewer understands that there is a staging and a repetition and that therefore those soldiers are acting, no matter how realistic the style is. But there are also many times when they act things that have never happened to them, but have happened to other people they know or which simply correspond to the portrait of this place: for example, Isra has never been in jail, he has never been expelled of house for his wife, has never trafficked... There's a series of things that are false and that, in any case, just as those which could have happened, are staged according to that script that we imagined and that we are constantly transforming.


What does Isra actually do for a job?

Whatever he can. There are several jobs that appear in the film that he has actually done, like fishing clams. The film has become a bit of portrait of the precarious life of the neighborhood that saddens me a lot, and that gives it a point of sadness with which I may not have counted, but which is related to the difficulty of life there.

Sergi Pérez

Just as the birth sequence is an example of a documentary dynamic, is there any scene that is a good example of the other extreme, one which has been conceived, written, rehearsed and shot with much preparation and planning, like is normal in fiction films?

Yes, the scene of the jump from the bridge, which is a very choreographed sequence shot in which we insisted a lot that the camera never anticipated the characters, so that the audience would not realize that the camera knows what will happen next. There was a specific choreography that is written in the script and I told to the actors: "Cheíto, you go in and you mess with your kid brother so that we recognize him as your brother. Pepito, then you answer him and..."


But do you tell them specific lines of dialogue that they learn?

No, no, I tell them the content and they come up with the lines. It would be something like this: "You Cheíto go mess with your brother and call him "kid-brother" so we know he's your little brother. Then when you arrive at these flowers... Pepito, you say that since Lucho died here no one wants to jump anymore. And you Cheíto tell them something like it cannot be so dangerous and then you jump. And from here we build the choreography, with three points of view, because each jump is different and we see it from different places depending on each character. Therefore, it is a very choreographed shot that also implied added difficulties like that Pepito was shirtless, which prevented him from wearing a wireless microphone and forced the boom operator to put the boom between the column and the bridge, which is where Pepito had to say his lines. This would be like an extreme example of maximum precision, although instead the specific words they just choose their own words, because they were never given a script to study.


I guess that's where the final credits come from, the three scriptwriters first (Isa Campo, Fran Araújo and yourself) but also the phrase "dialogues with the collaboration of all the actors in the film", right?

Yes, because the dialogues are mostly their words. There are also other more intermediate sequences, such as the conversation of Isra and Cheíto by the torn-out car, in which I suggest a situation and from here they take the conversation wherever they want, talking about their topics with their own words, and I just give certain notes or not according to how they are doing. But those are instructions that I always give during the take, without cutting, because already in The Legend of Time I realized that the moment you cut something is lost.


And what about the scenes that have more to do with the pain of Isra for the death of his father, like when he visits the grave in the cemetery, or the tattoo scene?

The tattoo scene might have to be grouped with the birth, in the sense that they are hyper-natural because we did not really know what was going to happen. What was in the script came from that I knew Isra wanted to get that big tattoo on his back about his father's death, because he told me many years ago, and we suggested that he wait until the film. Already in The Legend of Time he had a tattoo with the name of his father, Jose, and he wanted to complete it with a bird, and we did it during filming. (...) So, this time I told Paco, the tattoo artist, that I wanted to convince Isra to get a happier tattoo, a tattoo that looked to the future with optimism. So that he could stop looking at the past, because he already has his father's tattoo and will always carry it inside. And that's what Paco tells him in the scene, trying to convince him, and this was totally open during the shoot, because we did not know what Isra was going to answer. And he replied no, he insisted that he wanted to get the tattoo he had originally thought about, about his father's death... and that's what he did, and that decision by Isra really determines the end of the film, the sad tone in which we close the story.


And the cemetery scene, when Isra visits her father's grave? This is a moment of great emotional strain, shot with a fairly wide shot in which we see Isra up on a ladder, speaking to her father's grave, and in which the camera never gets closer. The sound of his words is also very low, and all of this gives the impression that you wanted to respect Isra's privacy in that moment.

Exactly, that's what happened. In the shooting plan I had planned a second, closer shot, which was going to go from the headstone to Isra's face, but when we did the wider one I realized that it would have been a too brutal, and I was not able to film that shot. It seemed unnecessary, because the moment had a power that perhaps I had not foreseen. But we did have the sound of the scene, because Isra was wearing a wireless microphone, but the same thing happened, that in the sound mix we decided to leave it at the limit of unintelligibility. That you feel what is happening to him without needing to understand the specific words. It was also a question of modesty towards them, although of course Isra knows perfectly well that we are recording it and it is being staged, but this might be another of those moments in which we are closer to a real emotion on the part of Isra. Because yes that is really the grave of his father, and therefore it is a subject that continues to really affect both the character and the person. This was perhaps the hardest day of filming.


And speaking of intimacy and modesty, how was the filming of the sex scene between Cheito and his wife, Yoli?

This is an idea that appeared during rehearsals. Many of the rehearsals with the two couples were done with a camera, and in those rehearsals I told them that I would like to film a love scene with them, without specifying what a love scene meant, but I saw that they were into it, that they liked the idea. So one day I told them that I would like to film a scene of them making love, and I saw that, since they are a couple in reality, they really wanted to try this out, they wanted to do it. I told them that we would be very few people, the minimum crew, and that we would be on the side and the scene would be completely directed by them. I told them: "Whatever you want, I do not need you to actually make love. If you want to do it, it's fine, if you want to not do it, it's equally fine. If you want to cut and stop filming, we cut and stop filming whenever you want. You direct the scene". Then we shot it, and afterwards I showed it to them to see what they thought... and they told me what they liked, what they didn't, what images they felt comfortable with and which others they preferred to cut, and we edited the scene based on those guidelines. And finally when they saw the finished movie I asked them again if they wanted to change something, and they said no, they actually liked it a lot (...) The truth is that Yoli surprised me a lot and I loved her acting in the film, and her character gained a lot of presence in the film because of this. And the same happened with Lolo (who plays Pollo) and his wife, who was also gaining incredible presence as we advanced, until we got to that sequence with Isra by the gate, which did not enter the script until very late.


Let's talk about acting and directing actors, because I think that especially Isra is a truly exceptional talent. It is often said that natural actors, when they also have so much talent, almost do not need any directing. How do you direct Isra?


Isra is amazing. His acting is especially outstanding in the scenes in which he plays experiences that he has never lived, like everything that has to do with jail and drug trafficking, or especially with the separation from his wife and the pain that this causes him. Those marital fights and problems are not real, and yet Isra has an ability to reach the truth of those scenes and feelings that is really incredible.

It's amazing, yes.


Yes. And all this comes from a lot of hard work during rehearsals. Isra has always had incredible skill to transmit emotions. I remember when they were children and we started the first rehearsals for The Legend of Time: in the dialogue scenes they were very bad, both Isra and Cheíto, and we were very worried. But then there was a moment when it occurred to me to ask Isra to simply look out the window, and he looked out the window and I thought that even if the dialogues were terrible, I could cut them with Kuleshov effect, with shots of him looking at whatever happens around him, and even that way he would be better than others. Because even as a child he had an incredible capacity for transmission, without doing anything. And then we started filming The Legend of Time and started acting at an incredible level. I remember that by the third week he began to understand that we put marks on the floor for focus (although we did it covertly, with everyday objects), and he was very surprised, but suddenly he internalized this issue of hitting focus marks and it started to come naturally to him. He has a great capacity to internalize everything and to transmit. Sometimes I would say, "Isra, don't act. You think that this is happening to you, and what you think is happening to you is going to come", because Isra thinks that he is sad and that he's been stood up, and suddenly those feelings reach the audience.


He's very connected, right?


Yes, but not only that, he also has the ability to transmit it, which is what is often said of great actors: that they "trespass the screen", which is something that happened to us a lot when we were shooting with Álex Monner and Emma Suárez in The Next Skin. There was even a moment when we were filming the dinner scene in the restaurant, which is very intense, in which I realized that they had such an incredible capacity "trespass the screen" that I even had to restrain them, because it seemed even impudent. Isra has that same capacity: he manages to imagine the situation, he gets into it and he makes it incredible. And also with that incredible precision that I told you, for example in the scene of the bridge to hit his mark at the perfect timing, get on top of the bridge, throw the shirt and jump, and while he is in the air remember that the he already has this huge tattoo on his back (because we had to do it before because of the shoot schedule), and therefore turn in the air and swim backwards so that the camera won't see it. And I was like: "Isra, dude, you're very good... I'm sorry I forgot to tell you about the tattoo". He's got an incredible talent, and that's why I want to show the making-of so that someone will hire him to make more movies, because it would be tragic to waste so much talent.


And Cheito?

Well, three quarters of the same, in the sense that he was a shy child, who said he did not want to leave San Fernando because he said that there were only shacks out there. And now, of course, after going on missions to the Sheychelles, to Somalia... the guy has returned with a confidence in himself, as a family man, as a man who knows the world... which makes him look very confident in front of the camera.


And how about directing the little girls?

With the girls the thing is trying to make them play... The most complicated thing was for them not to look at the camera, but apart from that they did it very well and could repeat eight times without losing any spark, like for example in the dialogue in the car, when they are talking about where they want to go on vacation and such.


There is a moment full of truth, when Isra is changing the diaper to the little one and the older one, Daniela, comes and asks him if he wants some help, she seems almost like a sister trying to steal the shot or prominence, but at the same time it seems incredibly natural.

That's great. I love the precision of that moment. I think the timing with which she arrives and how she says it is very real. That was shot the way fiction is typically shot, with locked script lines, repeating many takes, etc. It was very nice yesterday at the premiere, because Daniela finished the screening crying, very excited.


Another very exciting scene is when Isra is watching from the rooftop of his friend's apartment, and looks at all the places in the neighborhood that we have seen him inhabit (the inflatable pool of Lolo, the beach where he fishes...), and it's very nice because he seems to be looking at himself in that moment, as if he was reflecting on his own life

Yes, exactly, he is looking at himself. It's like looking at a mirror, examining your own life. When I thought about this movie I realized, reviewing The Legend of Time, that there was very little landscape, and that when it appeared it was like a scenic block separated from Isra and Cheito. And in this one I really wanted to have a portrait of the landscape in relation to the characters, who in the end are characters who have grown up there and are who they are because they are from that place which is so special, with the marshes, the tides... The film is thought that way, and that's also why it is shot in wider shots than the first one, because I've relied more on the transmission capacity of Isra and Cheito on wider shots.


Those towers did not exist when you shot The Legend of Time in 2004, did they?

No, and that's another reason why the landscape was not in The Legend of Time, because there was really no way to shoot that descriptive shot of the Casería landscape, unless you did it from the sea (which is a very artificial shot because its point of view would correspond to someone who is swimming), because these towers had not yet been built. They built them later, at the time of maximum real estate speculation, and there are three towers that are almost breaking the coastland law and which belong to a very different social class, so there is an attempt to expel the people who lived in the Casería so that people from another social class go live there, as is happening in many other places.


The famous gentrification.

Yes, but the ironic thing is that suddenly the appearance of those towers allows the Casería to be seen from above for the first time. In fact, neither the Isra character nor the real Isra had ever seen the Casería from above, and I do like to think of that kind of "god's eye" vision of the neighborhood, with the tides, and that society which is in danger of extinction, seen from another social class, to which the character of Isra can only access via the fantasy of drug trafficking or illegality, because he could never access with his regular legal jobs. So it is a sequence that has this point of description of space, which is also very vertically hierarchical, with that angle that in movies is usually the vision of God, but here corresponds to another social class.



Which is very clear in the scene of the party on that rooftop terrace, right?

Exactly. This is a sequence that almost breaks that style of extreme realism of the film, in the sense that it feels more like a fantasy than a reality; more the dream of how Isra's life would be if he were a trafficker, or how he imagines what that future could be. It's a sequence that is closer to other types of fiction codes and not to the extreme realism that we are using in Entre dos aguas.


Speaking of style and this "extremely realistic fiction" of the film, and taking into account that the passage of time is one of the central themes of the film: how has that style emerged and how do you think it has evolved during these years, in which you have made several films that I suppose have also influenced your artistic evolution?

For starters, I think this very realistic fictional style comes from a very long or infinite tradition that includes many filmmakers that I adore, like Maurice Pialat or many others. Because deep down, realism is a convention, a pact with the viewer, and hence it changes over time. When we see now the very realistic films of the 40s or the 60s, they seem super stylized, super illuminated, super staged... I happened to see Accatone again lately. The first time I saw it, as a student in the 90s, I thought it was extremely wild, very improvised and spontaneous... but now it seemed much more written, stylized, staged... it's a film full dolly shots!


I believe that the same thing will happen to us, that the same style we use now for realism will be seen in a few years (or perhaps now, but in another place) as a formalism. But yes, in this film we were looking for that kind of pact with the audience: we were trying above all else to not interpose ourselves between the spectator and the characters, so there aren't any of the kind of formal games that I have done in the other films, which are very playful, because I had a willingness to try to learn as much as possible in each film. Here I tried to use fewer ingredients, to make something more compact, simpler, and to disappear in the material, the story of Isra and Cheíto.


Maybe it would be interesting to think of Entre dos aguas after The Next Skin, in which this style of great realism was already very present, with a lot of handheld camera, and in that sense perhaps it may have been a good training for Entre dos aguas.

Well, The Next Skin is the first film in which I tried to simplify ingredients, make a more compact film formally, not as heterodox as the others. I'll do those again if everything goes well one day, but now I wanted to make more compact films. And yes, I learned a lot to do Entre dos aguas. But the funny thing is that there are many things that I have used in Entre dos aguas that I learned by doing Murieron por encima de sus posibilidades. I started my career as an editor, and where I felt very comfortable was as in the cutting room, and that's why Cravan Vs. Cravan is a montage film. On the other hand, where I felt very weak and insecure was in the control of the internal timing of shots, and that's why my first films are full of montages. That's why The Legend of Time was made with two cameras, because I knew I could always have the shot and the reverse. But in Murieron por encima de sus posibilidades I learned to do these kinds of sequences in which there is a dialogue between several characters who are doing many things, at times together and at times separated, and keep moving around. I understand that it seems more logical to think that this film is more like The Next Skin, because the type of camera work is more similar, but the choreography of the actors and the internal action was much more similar to some scenes of Murieron por encima de sus posibilidades, and that device and that internal time of the shot is something that I learned then. Sometimes I think that all the films I do are to learn to film the story of Isra and Cheíto, that this is like a central project and that all the rest of films are means to learn to do this one better.

The idea of ​​editing scenes from The Legend of Time in this film, like the kids playing with the snow or the final shot of Isra: was it always there, or has it been emerging?

No, not at all. It's been so many years that I've changed my mind a thousand times. There was a time when I even thought that this was a black and white movie, until I went back there and said "but what was I thinking". There was a time when it was a winter movie, and I saw it very clearly, because there are some incredible mists there. There was a beautiful mist sequence that was the best scene we filmed for The Legend of Time but it did not enter, because it did not fit... it was the typical scene that is so great that it destroys everything around it.


So no, I did not decide to use images from The Legend of Time until quite late. I wanted it to be the spectator who edited them in his head, and for example now the viewer who sees The Legend of Time will see it with different eyes, because there is a whole part of drama that he will rediscover. I think the first movie, because they are children and everything is possible and their life is not predetermined, is a happier, more jovial, more playful film... but there is also a whole part of drama that I think will now reflow for those who see it after seeing Entre dos aguas. For example, the moments when they play video games, or when they are by the curtain, which is a funny moment in the first film but that suddenly after seeing the second one you can realize that they are waiting for that father who never arrives. (...) But there came a point where I realized that in order to understand that contrast between that moment in childhood when everything was possible for them and now, and see Isra's happy face when he comes out of the snow, you had to see the past. And that face of Isra as a child projected on the shots of his daughters now.


In the tree scene at the end, when Isra takes his daughters to visit the tree where he and Saray marked their heights in The Legend of Time, there is a line that I love that is when the girl, Daniela, tells her dad: "I think you dreamed it all, Daddy", which resonates a lot because of course, we do know that tree from the last scene of The Legend of Time, and therefore we know that he did not dream it.

Good, Daniela is wonderful. That phrase you mention is hers, it was not in script. She also knows perfectly well that this is true because she has seen the tree before, but it's her own line.


Why did you decide to shoot on celluloid, specifically in 16 millimeters?

I like to think that formats connote a lot about when a film is shot. That is to say, that you see a film shot in digital and you know that it was shot after 2003, more or less. But instead you see a movie like Viktor Kossakovsky's Belovy, which is shot in 16 millimeters, and you do not know when it was filmed. You see an eternal Russia, some Russian peasants... and suddenly there comes a moment when they talk about the Perestroika and you realize that we're in the 90s.

Then, when we shot The Legend of Time, I imagined a film that was very in the present, of these children who are living in 2004, and I thought that it had to be shot in digital, in high definition, because it corresponded to the type of film and because I also I would have been unable at that time to film scenes with that kind of naturalness and vividness in celluloid, and I had to do it on video. Instead now, when we went to scout we realized that there were a lot of things that were stuck in time. In other words, they are characters who, when they were children, seem to be moving towards a future that could be anything, and when the future has come, you realize that they are in a total timelessness, as if they were in a time that corresponds more to their parents than to what you would expect from children of the 90s. When we saw Isra fishing clams, without clothes... we thought it could be an image from the 50s. Or when you see the military parades with the flag, which could be in any decade. And I think that the fact of shooting in 16 millimeters reflects that a bit, and that reaches the viewer in some way, even if it is unconscious. That is to say that in this sense the format has a dramatic function, because it reinforces the idea of ​​characters who are stuck in time, for which there is no future, who are locked in time and in those temporal limits, until suddenly you see a mobile phone, or a song that only sounds in our century. And paradoxically the flashbacks, which are set in that time in the past where everything was still possible, are in digital.


Amanda Villavieja, our sound recordist, wrote a very nice text about this when we were preparing the movie. Curiously, it was the sound recordist who thought about this.  And since we are talking about her, let me say that I am very grateful to Diego [Dussel, Director of Photography], because he has done a job of concealing his work that is of an incredible generosity. His cinematography here amazes me but is not going to win any prize, because it is not seen. Diego is objectively one of the best camera operators in the world, it is incredible how he manages to be exactly in the precise point of cleanness or dirtiness that you are looking for.


And what does the future hold?

Well maybe we will slow down a bit, but you never know. On the one hand, I am very happy with Entre dos aguas, for once I feel very fulfilled and satisfied. And on the other, the truth is that I don't see much how to make the projects with which I dream. So, if I have to keep hitting my head against the wall, I prefer to do it a little more slowly.


And the future of the Isra-Cheíto project, how do you see it? Or do you not think about it?

There is a little bit of me that says that I would like to continue it all my life, and there is another that says that no way, to let someone else do it. There are those two parts. But I know that maybe in 6 or 7 years the project will knock on my door again, and we'll see, because it will also depend on how our lives, theirs and our friendship have developed.

Miguel Faus

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