Sergio Belinchón

Work description

In 4ºB (2009) Belinchón presents less conventional material. 4ºB is literally a home movie, in that it entirely takes place inside the home of its original makers. After a brief view of the signs on the floor and door that give the piece its title, the lady of the house opens the door, welcomes the camera in (and, by extension, the future viewer), and invites us to enter the flat. She proceeds to show the living room, the bedroom, the bathroom, the kitchen, and all the decorative details that are typical of a 70s middle-class Spanish apartment.
The flat is like many others from that era, which cannot be said of this original domestic pantomime unfolding silently before our eyes. It is a sort of parody of television reportage or gossip magazines where famous women show off their luxury mansions to the populace. The camera -most probably held by the husband, who is absent from the images except for a fleeting token appearance in the shower- embodies a professional camera operator. The woman displays grandiose and exaggerated gestures that are typical of a game show model, whilst proudly showing her home, as clean and tidy as was to be expected of a diligent housewife back then.
Fascinated, we contemplate this tour through the different rooms, with the voyeuristic curiosity we might feel today when we look for a flat and check our options online, or in person. Today it is common to come across bizarre images like those collected in certain websites, which make us laugh when they’re not busy shocking us. In this case, the mother in law’s constant presence is hilarious. We see her on the balcony at the beginning, then on the sofa, acting as if she’s reading and is oblivious to the camera, then supervising the placement of decorative glasses on the mantelpiece, or peering out the kitchenette’s sliding window. It’s surprising to see the profusion of stuffed animals on the walls, filmed in creepy close-ups that zoom out to reveal the entire figure, or to see that the sad light well has been deemed worthy of being included in this tour.
The host exits in the middle of the film, giving way to a series of close-up shots and overviews of the household’s decorative elements. There are stuffed animals and kitsch porcelain figurines lined up on ledges and shelves, in every shape or form, with a particular abundance of animals (cats, horses, birds, dogs, deer, lions, rabbits, swans, elephants, bears…). Family ornaments that will be typical for Spanish viewers such as the porcelain sculpture of Sargadelos or the flamenco doll, without forgetting a detail from abroad that hopes to add an exotic or cosmopolitan touch: an ivory sculpture of a Japanese village, to which the camera devotes one of the longest shots of the film.
The essentially distinctive feature of this material is that the object of the shoot is not the family itself, even though it does appear, nor a festive or celebratory event, but the apartment itself, its furniture and decoration. The careful planning, the mise en scene, also sets it apart from the spontaneity that is typical of home movies, where content is valued above form.
It is true that we don’t know the context, which would allow us to fully grasp the meaning or finality of this peculiar film. Is it simply a Sunday divertissement? Has the family just moved into the flat, and wishes to document the novelty? We will never know. But what is interesting about this is the way the description of the flat unintentionally reflects the taste, customs, values, and aspirations of a nation -Spain- during a particular moment in a long dictatorship. The crucifix on the wall, the encyclopaedia on the shelf, the penchant for stuffed animals, the television -kept on even when no one pays any attention to it-, the mother in law living in the house, or on her Sunday visit… are all evidence of a reality that seeps in, and that Spanish viewers will identify with despite themselves.
On this occasion, Sergio Belinchón has chosen to show the original material in its integrity without altering it in any way, that is to say, exactly as he found it in the flea market. We could therefore consider it a readymade, like Ken Jacob’s classic, Perfect Film (1986), which presents a series of unedited interviews, exterior shots, and other material that was probably discarded from a television reportage about Malcolm X’s assassination, and found in the garbage. For his films’ distribution notes, Jacobs wrote something that also applies to BeliIn 4ºB (2009) Belinchón presents less conventional material. 4ºB is literally a home movie, in that it entirely takes place inside the home of its original makers. After a brief view of the signs on the floor and door that give the piece its title, the lady of the house opens the door, welcomes the camera in (and, by extension, the future viewer), and invites us to enter the flat. She proceeds to show the living room, the bedroom, the bathroom, the kitchen, and all the decorative details that are typical of a 70s middle class Spanish apartment.
The flat is like many others from that era, which cannot be said of this original domestic pantomime unfolding silently before our eyes. It is a sort of parody of television reportage or gossip magazines where famous women show off their luxury mansions to the populace. The camera -most probably held by the husband, who is absent from the images except for a fleeting token appearance in the shower- embodies a professional camera operator. The woman displays grandiose and exaggerated gestures that are typical of a game show model, whilst proudly showing her home, as clean and tidy as was to be expected of a diligent housewife back then.
Fascinated, we contemplate this tour through the different rooms, with the voyeuristic curiosity we might feel today when we look for a flat and check our options online, or in person. Today it is common to come across bizarre images like those collected in certain websites, which make us laugh when they’re not busy shocking us. In this case, the mother in law’s constant presence is hilarious. We see her on the balcony at the beginning, then on the sofa, acting as if she’s reading and is oblivious to the camera, then supervising the placement of decorative glasses on the mantelpiece, or peering out the kitchenette’s sliding window. It’s surprising to see the profusion of stuffed animals on the walls, filmed in creepy close-ups that zoom out to reveal the entire figure, or to see that the sad light well has been deemed worthy of being included in this tour.
The host exits in the middle of the film, giving way to a series of close-up shots and overviews of the household’s decorative elements. There are stuffed animals and kitsch porcelain figurines lined up on ledges and shelves, in every shape or form, with a particular abundance of animals (cats, horses, birds, dogs, deer, lions, rabbits, swans, elephants, bears…). Family ornaments that will be typical for Spanish viewers such as the porcelain sculpture of Sargadelos or the flamenco doll, without forgetting a detail from abroad that hopes to add an exotic or cosmopolitan touch: an ivory sculpture of a Japanese village, to which the camera devotes one of the longest shots of the film.
The essentially distinctive feature of this material is that the object of the shoot is not the family itself, even though it does appear, nor a festive or celebratory event, but the apartment itself, its furniture and decoration. The careful planning, the mise en scene, also sets it apart from the spontaneity that is typical of home movies, where content is valued above form.
It is true that we don’t know the context, which would allow us to fully grasp the meaning or finality of this peculiar film. Is it simply a Sunday divertissement? Has the family just moved into the flat, and wishes to document the novelty? We will never know. But what is interesting about this is the way the description of the flat unintentionally reflects the taste, customs, values, and aspirations of a nation -Spain- during a particular moment in a long dictatorship. The crucifix on the wall, the encyclopaedia on the shelf, the penchant for stuffed animals, the television -kept on even when no one pays any attention to it-, the mother in law living in the house, or on her Sunday visit… are all evidence of a reality that seeps in, and that Spanish viewers will identify with despite themselves.
On this occasion, Sergio Belinchón has chosen to show the original material in its integrity without altering it in any way, that is to say, exactly as he found it in the flea market. We could therefore consider it a readymade, like Ken Jacob’s classic, Perfect Film (1986), which presents a series of unedited interviews, exterior shots, and other material that was probably discarded from a television reportage about Malcolm X’s assassination, and found in the garbage. For his films’ distribution notes, Jacobs wrote something that also applies to Belinchón’s vision of 4ºB: “A lot of film is perfect left alone, perfectly revealing in its un- or semi- conscious form.”
Gloria Vilches
nchón’s vision of 4ºB: “A lot of film is perfect left alone, perfectly revealing in its un- or semi- conscious form.”
Gloria Vilches