History is juxtaposed with fantasy here, Ana, in her childlike virtuousness, does not understand that the country she’s living in has been pinned down by Fascism of the Franco regime but is only familiar with poisonous mushrooms, a sister that pretends to be dead and detached parents who have other worries in their hearts. The father is a doctor obsessed with his journals, the mother writes secret letters to another lover who is a soldier at war and the other sister is just being an indifferent idiot, breaking Ana’s trust when she plays around death. Ana’s fascination with the monster Frankenstein becomes her solace, a monster seen by her as a lethargic creature who gives flowers to a girl in a pond, that when she discovers a war deserter in a local barnyard, she tends to him with gentility – a unique friendship that she alone understands, or rather comprehended by her six year old mind. The connection is so powerful that in two of the film’s most memorable scenes, Ana runs away into the woods and conjures the imaginary monster at will and later at the closing scene, she calls for Frankenstein at night. It is both horrifying but tenderly sorrowful; a girl lost between childhood and adulthood, who dreams of fantastical beings for friends in a setting of absolute political turmoil. Ana Torrent, perhaps one of cinema’s greatest performances by a child, adores the screen with her doe-eyes and little face, harbouring sweet innocence and her gaze into her surroundings are both knowing and unknowable. Her presence here is utter magic.