«El ego es el único guionista que nunca se corta»: Bruno Martín ante el abismo de 'Luger'

The Luger pistol is an icon with historical, cinematic, and collectible weight; placing that macrocosm of World War II against the microcosm of some losers having a bad Thursday in a Madrid outskirts industrial estate creates a very interesting contrast and dramatic risk.

Visually, I use composition and dry editing, raw light, medium shots, and colloquial dialogue for the scenes; thus the MacGuffin drives the plot without nullifying the local flavor. The idea is that the object opens the box of the story, but it is the picaresque, the fears, and the everyday decisions of the characters that mark its resolution. The Luger only gives its name to a film that deals with loyalty and second chances.

It really wasn't resignation, but rather something similar to discipline. We reined in the physical display when the scene demanded emotion and verisimilitude. No matter how much street cred and fighting Mario's character (Toni) has, there is always someone tougher, more dangerous, and in greater numbers.

We took advantage of Mario's power with measured sequences and concrete actions that multiply his impact without turning the film into a succession of punches. The result is a kind of Goliath who can knock you out on screen but whose inner conflict and small vulnerabilities make him credible and deeply human.

Fortunately, David and I respect each other a lot within the profession (and outside too, hahaha!), and besides, the role was written expressly for him. David knew Luger very well and had my consent and absolute authority to contribute what, within his professionalism, he deemed appropriate. Sometimes trying to improve a detail can lead to slowing down and, in the end, it is counterproductive. David moves wonderfully within a shoot and knows the times: when to opine and when not to.

Surrounding myself with a director-protagonist, a director-director of photography (David Hebrero), and a director-executive producer (Raúl Cerezo), has been enormously beneficial for an action film that had to be shot in just 20 days within a moving industrial estate.

I don't hide my inspirations, but I believe that, in most cases, tributes add nothing. This is why many "tributes" were born of pure necessity. Because some master had already invented them one day, because it was the simplest and most elegant way to resolve it. It is true that we tried to avoid that trunk shot but, as you rightly say, the physics of the vehicle prevented us. We ended up inside because it was the only physical way to place the camera.

The goal that Santiago Taboada and I had while writing the film was always to frustrate the viewer. But wait, that sounds bad and it isn't. We offer characters with whom to empathize, with whom to feel comfortable and strong. But there comes a point when tougher and stronger guys cross their path. And that is when the laughs fade.

But the tension continues, and we do this a couple of times more during the runtime so that, when certain moments arrive, you feel pleased with how events are unfolding. I consider Luger to be frustrating but satisfying. If someone had the idea of seeing a rough comedy, neither the poster nor the trailer gave those signals... Although now that I think about it, maybe the mistake was featuring David Sainz big on the cover, hahahaha.

Having someone seasoned in the battlefield that a shoot is, like Cerezo, is an indisputable added value. Santi and I did a first reading with him of the first version, which was inevitably somewhat enthusiastic. The sequence was spectacular, but it required about five or six days of shooting and 35 actors with their respective salaries for all those days.

He suggested that, in general, in the second round we cut what was not essential: we merged several characters into one, removed sequences and subplots until a very different but much more subtle, more interesting, and better film remained. It was no problem letting go of all those scenes. We kept many in our hearts to recycle and adapt them in future projects where we can have much more means to carry them out.

I think all those "Brunos" were jumping for joy like kids with a new bicycle. In this vocation-driven profession, many people are clear about what they want to be within it. I have gone through many facets until finding those places where I feel comfortable. And all of them have given me weapons to face and understand this profession in a certain way.

I don't think any of them suffered; they were all part of my life until I had to give my all with my first real film. They all contributed something to that process that led me exactly to the place where I had to be.

We are not the first and will not be the last Spaniards to shoot something in an industrial estate. But I believe we are the first to turn it into a character in its own right. Almost all the shorts and almost all the web series I have made have had one or several sequences in that estate. I grew up there, I used to meet my buddies in a wasteland next to some tracks where one particular sequence was shot. We spent afternoons sitting on old abandoned car seats next to a scrapyard where we snuck in to cause trouble while drinking kalimotxo.

And I always felt it was a magical place because it came from the strong industrial culture of the 80s, where many of my favorite films, arcade video games, and music videos began or ended in dirty and dark alleys of industrial estates. Industrial warehouses are a universal and beautiful urban setting. They are practically the same here, as in Berlin, as in Michigan. Besides, all that brick, sheet metal, and those smoking chimneys helped form the perfect background, trapping our protagonists in a labyrinth of repetitive and disorienting structures.

As we mentioned before and as Michael Caine said in his book Acting for the Camera, a film is a temporary enterprise. If you know all the departments of said enterprise, it will be infinitely easier for you to move around and be decisive in the face of adversities that don't even have to do directly with your department. Having a global vision gives you many more weapons to face the shooting of a film and ensure that external elements —which are many— do not excessively dilute the cinematic idea you had in your head.

The film has an evident testosterone component. But Santiago and I consciously decided that in Luger the women would maintain weight, fangs, and nuances: not only intelligence and bravery within a markedly masculine world (the estate and the physical strength jobs), but also emotional complexity.

I worked with the actresses to forge survivors who would not fear facing anything, but who at certain moments would be overwhelmed by the brute force of other characters. So it was not just a "neighborhood thing" nor a simple politically correct gesture: it was a deliberate narrative choice to break the inertia of "tough guy cinema" and add social reality. We were looking for a palpable recognition of the difficulties that many women face without ever losing dramatic verisimilitude.

I don't think I will go too deep into that garden beyond commenting that to get to the Goyas you need tremendous human and economic backing to be able to make a good visibility campaign among the academics. I don't think it is a matter of allergies towards certain genres. If a film has few means, imagine the resources that remain almost a year after its production.

However, and with my hand on my heart, I will tell you that we are going to do everything in our power to reach the 2027 gala. Unfortunately, and in that case, I don't think I can fulfill the promise about the VIP pass as it will not be in my hands. What I can guarantee you is that if they let me shoot another film, you will have a VIP pass for its premiere.

The truth is that my duties as a producer have been scarce and forced... Os reviento, Luger and little else, and I hope never to do it again. I don't understand the bureaucracy, the paperwork, the points, the subsidies, and all that crap. I know that Luger applied for the aid from the Community of Madrid and that they didn't grant it to us. They gave us 47%. Insufficient, no matter how much you cry to the teacher, he won't give you a 5. We didn't fight for it much nor waste energy on it. The desire to start shooting the film was above any office.

Regarding what parameters, themes, and genres those institutional decisions are based on, I prefer not to opine. I dedicate myself to making films about what interests me. If it doesn't fit within the imposed standards, perfect: I to my roll and them to theirs. No one is going to tell me what story I have to tell.

In both departments (music and sound) we had true titans like Leví Star (with whom I have been working my whole life), Dani Bravo (direct sound and mixes), and Pertigosaurio (sound design and mixes). Dani Bravo did incredible work on set alone... with sequences where there were up to 8 characters at the same time (like the claustrophobic office one, for example). We went to post-production with first-rate quality material that Martín Jiménez finished in his studio.

Technically, each impact carries between seven and eight superimposed tracks to give it body and verisimilitude; we didn't use "plaster slaps", but layers of real bass and ambient textures. With Leví, I spent 15 days in the studio looking for the music and its identity for the editing, as it was the only thing I didn't have totally clear before shooting. We used very few very local elements (claps, flamenco cajón) and some disruptive element (cello) to maintain the tension without masking the dialogues. The result is a powerful and clear mix where the punches resonate with weight and the music accompanies without ever devouring the voices. And above all: there is no need to keep turning the TV volume up and down.

It would be very easy to screw it up with a poorly planned prequel, sequel, series, crossover, or spin-off. We would love to explore those paths because, although the film works 100% independently, it leaves an open ending. The idea of a prequel has always fascinated me especially, but right now we want to focus on other projects and tell new stories.

The most important thing is to maintain the standard: we made the best film we were capable of making with the means we had, and we don't want to rush or disappoint ourselves with the next one. Hopefully, we can return to the audience, who have treated us with so much affection, an equal or even superior experience.

I think I would rephrase the question, as I haven't shot with a high commercial budget, but enough to raise a "real" film.

The lesson is clear: optimize resources to 200%. If there is money, details; if not, pure concept. Luger has no empty flourishes and I believe that is precisely its strong point: that I couldn't do free nonsense with the camera. I had to make sure that every shooting day we took the sequence resolved to the editing. Maybe the day they give me ten million euros I will become an idiot and my films will start to be pretentious garbage. I will try to avoid that and keep my feet on the ground. But I only promise to try.