During Holy Week, when I was little, the sacred stories were not only told in the churches. They also lived in neighborhood cinemas. In the Dante de Horta cinema, the posters promised every year “Last projections in Spain” by Ben-Hur, the ten commandments or quo vadis. We knew they would return the next Easter, but that did not detract from them solemnity. They were stories to stop, to look silent and remember the important. Raúl Caro/Efe today, in full digital era, stories come to us by another way. We see them at home, many times alone, with a mobile in hand. But from time to time, a small miracle appears. That is how to become a millionaire before the grandmother dies, a Thai Because religion is present in this film, of course. It is in the simple rituals, in the domestic altars, in the grandmother’s prayers. But above all it is in the message that crosses the story: caring for the other, wanting better, learning to lose the fear of death, reconcile with the roots, family relationships … The sacred appears sometimes in a silent film, arriving from Thailand we lived for a time when humanism seems to have been old. In that young people, we think about it, they don’t look in the eye anymore, they don’t listen, they don’t expect. But perhaps what is missing is not so much discipline as examples of humanity. Stories that teach them, without lessons, that the most valuable thing about life is still invisible to screens. I also read Jordi I fast in my childhood, Holy Week was a time of great stories. Today, the sacred appears sometimes in a silent movie, arriving from the other tip of the world, which excites when you least expect it. Do not be a believer to understand it. It is enough to have some faith in people. In imperfect families. In the links that resist the passage of time. And in love between a grandson and grandmother. Cinema, like religion, serves to remember who we are. And in this Holy Week of algorithms and hurry, how to become a millionaire before the grandmother dies is the best possible parable. A miracle of tenderness in digital times.
