Justice delayed (and delayed and delayed) in Almudena Carracedo & Robert Bahar's very necessary documentary about Spain's ongoing fascist history, THE SILENCE OF OTHERS

How long has this justice been delayed? Just ask (if only you still could) María Martín, shown below, the 83-year-old woman we meet first in THE SILENCE OF OTHERS. María's mother was taken by fascist dictator Francisco Franco's followers during the Spanish Civil War, shot and killed and then buried in a mass grave. María has spent the rest of her life trying to obtain -- no, not even a shred of justice, let alone vengeance -- only her mother's remains in order to give the woman a proper burial. Good luck with that.

María is only one of the several people we meet in this new documentary, directed and co-written by Almudena Carracedo and Robert Bahar (shown below with Ms Carracedo on the left), all of whom are awaiting justice. José María Galante (two photos below), for instance, lives just down the street from the man who tortured him (and others) over and over again during the Franco regime, yet has thus far been meted out no punishment for his crimes against humanity. How creepy and disgusting is that?

But filmmakers Carracedo and Bahar are not the type to unduly raise their voice or dabble in heavy melodramatics. Instead they present their case (compiled over a period of six years) quietly and methodically, in which only a few of these justice-seekers are shown us, along with the folk (lawyers and so forth in both Spain and Argentina) who are helping them along. Spanish justice, it would seem, moves at the pace of a snail on tranquilizers and includes what some of these people refer to as "the law of forgetting."

When, at the end of Franco's dictatorship back in the 1970s, amnesty was finally given to political prisoners, this amnesty only came with the requirement that equal amnesty be given to those to tortured, murdered and stole both the babies and even some of the older children of the vanquished. Where, for god's sake, is the "justice" in any of this? And yet, as the documentary makes clear, those seeking justice have kept pushing for it down the decades.

The filmmakers also offer us enough history to at least partially understand the background of what happened in Spain and why it so divided this nation. Which remains, by the way, as divided as ever. We see the Spanish equivalent of America's dumbed-down, hate-filled and utterly "conned" right-wing populace (above), as well as those who keep fighting for some semblance of justice, along with some of the testimony -- staggering, moving and surprising -- of those who were tortured.

One elderly woman (I believe her name is Ascensión Mendieta), above, center, must travel at her very advanced age to Argentina and back because the Spanish courts refuse to even take up the case of the victims here in Spain. Yet, according to the Argentine lawyer who does take the case, if the Spanish courts would or could only hear the testimony of these survivors, they might finally be moved to action.

Will Spain ever confront its fascist past in any probing, meaningful manner? We shall see. Meanwhile, this new and award-winning documentary provides yet another step in what is sadly a very long process. That the first and only monument/sculpture (below) dedicated to these victims was itself riddled with bullet holes by the evening of the first day of its unveiling speaks volumes about a Spain still halfway in thrall to fascism.

From Argot Pictures, in Spanish with English subtitles, and running 96 minutes, The Silence of Others has its U.S. theatrical premiere this coming Wednesday, May 8, in New York City at Film Forum for a one-week run. Other playdates? There'll be plenty. Among them: Laemmle's Music Hall in Los Angeles on May 24, and here in South Florida at the Tower Theater, Miami, on June 7. Click here to learn if there's a theater near you.

An actor films his mom in Gustavo Salmerón's doc, LOTS OF KIDS, A MONKEY AND A CASTLE

If you're not hooked by the end of the opening speech/request/tirade by the protagonist of LOTS OF KIDS, A MONKEY AND A CASTLE -- Julita Salmerón, a one-woman whirlwind of narcissism and bravado whom her son, Gustavo Salmerón (one of those "lots of kids" mentioned in the film's title) has profiled in his new documentary -- then perhaps this film will not be for you. Julita's opening foray, all about what to do with her body, once her family believes her to have died, is so bizarre and funny, frightened yet controlling, that TrustMovies was

hooked completely by this ode to one of the more brazen and compelling uber mamas that the movies have so far given us.

Señor Salmerón, pictured at left and above, is one of Julita's six children, all of whom we meet and get to know to some small extent (her husband Antonio proves the figure about whom we learn the second most), in a movie that is made up of the pronouncements and world view of its leading lady -- a hoarder par excellence, of whose hoard we also learn a lot, especially where bones and teeth are concerned.

The Spanish Civil War figures prominently into things, and to the filmmaker's credit, he does not at all try to hide which side Julita and her family (her husband's, too) were on during this landmark and still hugely divisive conflict.

From the look of the movie, filmmaker Salmerón spent a good long time (more than a dozen years, it turns out) filming his mom and family and pouring over a ton of archival photos, along with other objects from Julita's hoard (she's shown above and below, left, with Antonio), each of which seems to spark a new memory and outlet for yet another rant or two.

Julita is a born performer and clearly always has been, and her energy helps carry the movie easily along. You can enjoy her hugely, even as you may find yourself extremely grateful that she is somebody's else's mother and not yours. (Her explanation of how and why she could not really love her children hurts.)

The filmmaker moves back and forth in time, depending on the subject at hand, but you'll have no trouble determining what time frame you're in -- due to Julita's ever aging face and the excess weight she keeps putting on. (Her love affair with food provides one of the funnier and more trenchant threads that her son weaves into his film.)

The doc also sports a menagerie of animals: a pig (above), that titular monkey (below), peacocks, cats, and more. Lots of Kids, a Monkey and a Castle draws its name from what, as a young woman, Julita decided would make her life complete. Well, she certainly had those kids, and though the monkey didn't last long, she even got that castle, too. Despite her protestations of not being rich, it soon becomes clear that her own family was well enough off, while her husband's was a lot more than that.

Still, it is one thing to buy a castle but quite another to be able to afford to live in it long-term. The worldwide financial crisis of 2008-09 hit Spain as badly as perhaps anywhere except Greece, and the Salmeróns lost their castle, and even saw their adult children have to move back in with them.

The times may have been heavy going but the movie seldom is. It bubbles along on the nut-case narcissism and self-delusion of its heroine who manages to somehow avoid taking responsibility for things, even when she sounds most like she just about might be willing to do this.

Toward the end of the documentary, she tells her filmmaker son that this will never be a successful movie and then lists all the things a successful movie needs. She leaves out, however, the single most important requisite -- an amazing star performer -- which Lots of Kids, a Monkey and a Castle has, and in spades.

The movie, winner of Spain's Goya award for Best Documentary, as well as other awards internationally, opened in Los Angeles this past October, and will hit New York City (at the Cinema Village) to qualify for this year's Oscar campaign on Friday, December 14.