Simón Casal

Simón Casal’s name doesn’t ring out with the glitz of Hollywood, but man, this guy’s got grit. Born in Galicia, Spain—rainy, wild, stubborn land—he’s carved out a strange little niche for himself in film. Most folks know him for “Justicia artificial” (2024), which, honestly, is a trip. He’s not just tossing out another courtroom drama or dystopian snooze-fest. No, Casal grabs you by the collar and drags you through questions about tech, morality, and what the hell “justice” even means in an algorithm-obsessed world. But, rewind a bit. “Lobos sucios” (2015) is where you really see the guy’s chops. Dirty wolves, dirty war. Spanish mining towns, WWII, spies, smuggling, and a kind of grit that leaves you coughing up coal dust. Not the sunniest flick, but damn, it’s got heart. He doesn’t paint his heroes in gold—they’re flawed, tired, making bad choices for good reasons (or heck, sometimes just for survival). And then there’s “Trazos” (2008), which is more low-key but still packs a punch if you’re paying attention. It’s sketchy—no, literally, it’s about art and sketches, but also about the messy lines people draw around themselves and others. Identity, creativity, a little bit of existential shrug. Casal’s got this rough edge, like he’s been scraping stories off the underside of life. He’s not chasing fame; he’s chasing something real, even if it’s ugly. And honestly? That’s way more interesting than another shiny blockbuster.