“When the end of the film brings the rain that was seen coming in on swollen clouds, the realization washes over you that you just may have witnessed something special.”

History is mostly a string of great men (and sometimes women) doing great things, often in great wars. This is particularly true about ancient history. But what about the average soldiers in the armies of said great men? What moved them, what were their lives like, why aren’t they remembered? In a movie of cosmic connection, Spanish director Gabriel Azorín tries to shed a light on the everyman, and shows that even when separated by two millennia, those who don’t make history are not as far apart as their position on the timeline of our past suggests. Last Night I Conquered the City of Thebes recalls the works of Albert Serra, with Liberté and The Death of Louis XIV in particular coming to mind, in its slow pace and reliance on long conversations and a light plot. As such, this is a film for a very specific audience, but fans of Serra’s and similar works will find much depth in the shallow baths of a Roman fort in northwestern Spain.

A group of Portuguese boys cross the border into Spain to visit the ruins of an ancient Roman fort (Aquis Querquennis, for those inclined to visit) and its nearby thermal baths. As they trek through swamp and field, they discuss the online war games they play, in particular an online version of the ancient Battle of Thermopylae. They hop and skip across the ruins of the fort, its well-preserved outlines shown in a stupendous overhead drone shot, and then make their way to the baths. More people visit the site, to learn about its history or just to have a relaxing time in the baths, but António and Jota intend to spend the night in the hot waters and see the sun come up. Are the baths really as magical as the stories say?

As they gaze at the stars, António (Santiago Mateus) opens up to Jota (António Gouveia) about their friendship. He has always admired his friend, but lately he has noticed a change. Jota’s big dreams of leaving the country and of not becoming like his parents have made place for reality and falling in line. António makes a heartfelt confession: he feels alone, left by Jota as the latter went to study in Porto.

Then other boys enter the baths. They speak a different language, an older one. Aurelius (Oussama Asfaraah) and Pompey (Pavel Čemerikić) take a last dip on the eve of their departure for Dacia (current day Romania). They speak about the toll of war, which means being away from their families for years, and probably the rest of their lives. Aurelius misses his family in Tingis (ancient Tangiers), and Pompey urges him to write them one last time. Aurelius too opens up to his friend: he does not want to go to war, and urges Pompey to stay behind with him and desert. Like António, Aurelius has greatly admired his friend, a young man who always helps his fellow legionaries. But he too has noticed a change in Pompey, given that the latter intends to follow his orders and set out across the continent.

Patience is needed for this slow-paced study of male angst and the human condition, and the way these are constants no matter time or place. Its deliberate pacing allows the viewer to sink into the film though, and find a deepening gaze into male friendships seldom seen on film before. Rarely do men, especially young men, open up to other men in the way both António and Aurelius do, with a naked honesty and no hint of any form of attraction to the other. One can feel the strength and depth of both friendships, and thus get a good sense of the feeling of betrayal experienced by these young men with regard to the actions and decisions of their friends. The beauty lies in the dreams and fears, the hopes and concerns they share, as if suspended in time while they co-exist. There is no interaction across time, but by situating both their stories in the baths, forcing them to wear nothing but trunks or a loin cloth, Azorín brings these young men even closer together, and makes them even more indistinguishable. Given that the film is mostly set during the night, and with Mateus and Asfaraah looking somewhat similar, this effect is even further enhanced.

Before the protracted conversations take place, the waning daylight is beautifully captured by DP Giuseppe Truppi, as the boys have more superficial conversations and listen to music while soaking in one of the larger baths. Here too Azorín allows for time to be stretched, which might test the impatient but lets lovers of slow cinema feel it envelop them like, well, a warm bath. Long moments of silence in the darkness, the only light coming from a phone screen or an oil lamp, dictate the rhythm of the film, a masterclass in creating atmosphere and a sense of place and time, and a perfect example of how editing (courtesy of Ariadna Ribas, editor on Albert Serra’s aforementioned titles, as well as Pacifiction) can set the mood of a film.

Last Night I Conquered the City of Thebes is a film that will likely do well on the festival circuit and in select arthouse theaters willing to program adventurous, languid works like this. It also heralds Azorín as yet another great talent from the Iberian Peninsula, one whose influences are certainly more Portuguese than Spanish even if the closest comparison is Serra. With a distinct directorial hand and the bravery to let scenes breathe and develop their own rhythm, this film is as close to a masterpiece as one can get. When the end of the film brings the rain that was seen coming in on swollen clouds, cleansing heavy hearts and allowing for closure as we see Aurelius setting off for the forest, the realization washes over you that you just may have witnessed something special.