Fantastic Fest 2023 – What’s Underneath THE COFFEE TABLE?

Introduction

Film festivals are chock-full of thrillers that attempt to explore the psychological ramifications of unusual high-pressure situations. The premise of these films often proposes unique “what if?” or “what would you do?” scenarios. These types of situations attempt to explore the nooks and crannies of the human condition in relation to their extraordinary circumstances.

What if you stumbled into an open manhole and couldn’t get out? What would you do if you were buried alive in a pine box casket with only your cell phone? Likewise, what if you were pinned inside the wreckage of an automobile deep in the deserted wilderness? What if you were trapped aloft on a ski lift shut down in the dead of winter? Many of these types of films propose horrific situations in which to explore the human condition and the psychological consequences of their predicaments. However, few possess the gumption to complete the emotional journey.

Often these films will veer off into wild cinematic tangents. Tangents that abandon any semblance of honest psychological investigation in favor of more hyper-realized cinematic resolutions. This isn’t necessarily negative criticism. However, it can be an easy cop-out. It’s far more difficult to control the emotional journey of a particular tragedy when you refuse to rely upon deus ex machina to fleece your way out.

The Coffee Table (La mesita del comedor) (2022) is a superlative example of a film that attempts to examine the extent of human sorrow under the soul-crushing weight of unimaginable tragedy. However, in contrast to its contemporaries, it attempts no other recourse than to complete the psychological journey it embarks on. There are no larger-than-life explanations to alleviate the responsibilities of the storyteller to complete the emotional voyage to its inevitable conclusion.

Synopsis

Written by Christina Borobia, and Caye Casas, and directed by Caye Casas, The Coffee Table focuses on a middle-aged couple who have recently given birth to a beautiful baby boy. Sharp-tongued María (Estefanía de los Santos) dominates the relationship. Likewise, she makes all of the decisions. Like what color the baby’s room will be painted or the date and the location of their wedding. Moreover, she even unilaterally chooses the name for their baby, which her fiancé Jesús (David Pareja) despises.

While shopping in a furniture store for their new apartment, Jesús puts his foot down and demands once and for all that they purchase this particularly hideous coffee table featuring golden nudes holding a glass tabletop.

It’s obvious that Jesús isn’t convinced that this is the perfect coffee table for their apartment (he even solicits validation by inquiring the salesman if he likes the table). However, out of sheer desperation and humiliation, Jesús views this pending purchase as an opportunity to assert his authority and reposition himself from underneath María’s dominance.

Using ridicule and shame, María outright rejects her beau’s demands, and a torrential tongue-lashing ensues right in front of the salesman. Jesús refuses to concede. María finally acquiesces and the table is purchased. Jesús lofts it up several flights of stairs by himself to their apartment. Unbeknownst to Jesús and María, the purchase of this coffee table will turn out to be the worst decision of their lives sending them down a dark path toward unimaginable suffering and anguish.

The Coffee Table
Josep Riera and Claudia Riera in a scene from “The Coffee Table” (2022). Photo courtesy of Cinephobia Releasing.

Discussion

What makes this Spanish-language film truly special is that it doesn’t devolve into mindless exploitation. This would have been incredibly easy and tempting to do considering the extreme nature of the story. There are several forks in the narrative where one might expect the tragedy to diverge. Yet, it never does, much to its benefit.

Cinema that aims to solely shock its audience without the courage to fully explore the psychological ramifications of its actions often crumbles under the weight of its own exploitation. The Coffee Table is certainly brimming with shock value. However, it’s careful not to devolve into the mindless trappings most exploitation films gravitate toward. It adheres to its simple mission while tightening the vice-like grip on the hearts of its audience with each passing minute.

The Coffee Table will absolutely wreck you. It’s a rare cinematic experience that will leave you trembling hours after its conclusion. This stunning psychological exploration is beautifully executed, paced to perfection, and bolstered by immaculate performances by Pareja (Jesús) and de los Santos (María).

The Coffee Table
Eduardo Antuña, Estefanía de los Santos, and David Pareja in a scene from “The Coffee Table” (2023). Photo courtesy of Cinephobia Releasing.

Further Analysis

Strangely enough, as dark as The Coffee Table is, the scenes are meticulously stitched together with subtle laces of humor. This contrasts the tragedy while providing balance to the overall emotional table. These stepping-stones of comedy are well-timed, warranted, and wholly necessary in creating the extreme rollercoaster effect of the narrative.

One additional touch of genius is that the film already tackles the single worst tragedy humans could ever possibly endure. It’s truly a situation in which it “couldn’t possibly get any worse.” Yet Borobia and Casas manage to worm in a simple narrative thread involving an accusatory thirteen-year-old neighbor girl for the sole purpose of adding extra torque to an emotionally maxed-out situation salt in the wound.

With the audiences’ hearts firmly crushed in Casas’ vice, the director utilizes this character to lean on the handle. This gives the narrative another quarter turn of tension that is utterly excruciating in its brilliance. Of the twenty-eight films I personally experienced at Fantastic Fest 2023, this was by far my favorite and most memorable of the festival. It represents the type of cinema that is often under-appreciated and overlooked. That of shocking exploitation that trades visual horror for psychological empathy.

The Coffee Table.
Christina Dilla and Claudia Riera in a scene from “The Coffee Table” (2022). Photo courtesy of Cinephobia Releasing.

Conclusion

I kept waiting for the film to surrender its own premise. Yet it never did. As I watched, I trembled thinking, “Yup, that’s probably how I would’ve reacted.” The fact I was able to continually relate to these crestfallen characters who were exposed to the worst possible tragedy imaginable is a testimony to the filmmakers. They never abandoned their responsibility to answer the question, “What would you do if…?” Let’s hope nobody ever has to find out.

The Coffee Table toured the festival circuit this past September and arrives on VOD and DVD in January 2024.

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