Mariano Llorente

Mariano Llorente, born smack in the middle of Madrid back in '65, isn’t exactly a household name, at least not unless you’re knee-deep in Spanish film and theater circles. He’s got this quiet, persistent way of showing up in projects that either make you think or just absolutely slap you with nostalgia—like, remember “Al salir de clase”? That late ‘90s teen drama basically raised a whole generation of Spanish kids. Llorente was right there, tangled up in all that angst and chaos, and somehow made the corniest lines sound, well, almost believable. Jump ahead to “Alatriste” in 2006—a proper period epic, all swords and brooding. Llorente’s role wasn’t front-and-center, but he’s the kind of actor who fills out the edges, makes the world feel lived-in. Not every actor can manage that. Then there’s “Donde el bosque se espesa” from 2017, which, honestly, is a different beast—much heavier, wrestling with history and memory, the sort of film that asks you to sit with uncomfortable questions. He wasn’t just acting, either; he’s a writer, too, which probably explains why his characters always seem to have something going on under the surface, even when the script’s in low gear. Off camera, he’s married to Laila Ripoll—a big name in Spanish theater herself—and they’ve got a kid. You get the sense that his home life probably isn’t all that different from his work: creative, a bit intense, and always in motion. Llorente isn’t the loudest guy in the room, but he’s been in the thick of it for decades, chipping away, making Spanish cinema and TV a little sharper.