The announcement of the interview with Pedro Sánchez in Al Rojo Vivo (La Sexta) is a metaphor for the electoral method: the promotion promises that it will be at eleven, then at twelve, and finally, the interview begins at 12:32 p.m. Lie? No: biased management of the truth. Antonio García Ferreras obsessively asks about the Amnesty law, which President Sánchez defines as “brave, restorative and constitutional.”
Following the advice of the most primary commercial rhetoric, Sánchez repeats “Antonio” as a preventive lubricant against possible hostilities. In each response he places a message. Returning to the Amnesty law, he says, referring to the PP, that terrorism cannot be trivialized but nor can it be distorted. He defines Spain as a difficult country to govern if its territorial diversity and political plurality are not taken into account. And he adds: “The PSOE is the only organization that can govern this complexity.” And without breaking a sweat, when Ferreras asks him about Zorra who will represent TVE in the Eurovision Song Contest, he smiles, says that feminism is fun and that the fachosphere would prefer to present Cara al sol. If Ferreras was looking for a headline about the amnesty, this festive-musical comment will make, I fear, much more noise.
In Lo de Évole (La Sexta), the singer and actress Ana Belén laments that in the Community of Madrid the fetish of freedom ends up confronting communism. Belén says that between having an aperitif and having decent public health, she prefers to do without the aperitif. It is the typical tricky dilemma of a progressive after-dinner meal (in fact, they discuss it over an aperitif), but Belén accepts Jordi Évole's rules, which persist in the shots from behind and that lyricism of the neck that the Dardenne brothers introduced into their cinema and that today it is commonplace. Conversation, on the other hand, works and is comforting. The tributaries of nostalgia relativize the personality cults of the transition through the contrast between past and present, memory and opinion, banality and responsibility.
Belén is not just a singer and actress. It is the symbol of a cultured, committed, promising (and probably failed) Spain that in the sentimental education of many maintains iconography such as that of Ana (with a Quilapayunian poncho from the 1977 vintage) and Víctor Manuel (an example of the superiority of the human factor and camaraderie on the sectarian cannibalism of the left) with Horacio Fernández Inguanzo, El Paisano. The three embody an anti-Francoism in which, based on communist discipline, each one chose their degree of commitment. Évole participates in this fraternal memory with the impatience of wanting to equate himself – perhaps with a too invasive zeal – with the symbolic burden of her interlocutor.
