Pau Durà

Formentera Lady (2018) swings you right into the slow-drip haze of island life, with Pau Durà steering the ship both behind and in front of the camera. Samuel—played by the always-grounded José Sacristán—is this stubborn old rocker who ditched the mainland decades ago, chasing peace and, let’s be real, running from responsibilities. He’s been chilling on Formentera, scraping by with odd bar gigs, sipping cheap wine, and growing old alongside his battered guitar. Not exactly the poster child for a model grandparent. The real twist? Samuel’s daughter, who he hasn’t seen in forever, drops off her kid with him and bounces, leaving him face-to-face with a grandson he barely knows. Suddenly, this dude who’s spent years ducking grownup stuff has to clean up his act—fast. There’s no manual for late-in-life parenting, especially when you’re more used to jamming than meal prepping. Drama unfolds quietly, but it cuts deep. Samuel and his grandson clash, laugh, and stumble through awkward attempts at bonding. The island backdrop is gorgeous, but it’s not all sunsets and mojitos—there’s a loneliness to it, too. Durà doesn’t sugarcoat the struggle: Samuel’s got regrets, and the kid’s just as lost. Still, these two oddballs start to fit together, patchwork-style, finding a weird sort of family when neither expected it. Music, memory, and a dash of that stubborn Mediterranean hope tie it all together. It’s not your usual feel-good flick, but there’s a bittersweet warmth that sneaks up on you.