Javier Ambrossi and Javier Calvo, the prolific Spanish directing team known as Los Javis, did not set out to make a small or niche project when they began writing their latest film, La Bola Negra. Instead, they aimed for grand scale, driven by the desire to craft the largest, most significant queer war movie ever produced. According to Ambrossi, the duo is finished with the idea that LGBTQ+ cinema must remain contained within narrow boundaries, choosing instead to lean into the anti-fascist zeitgeist with a bold, maximalist approach. They want to buy popcorn and be given a big movie like Titanic. Relaxing at a corner table in the restaurant of a London hotel, Los Javis represent a study in contrasts. He repeatedly stretches his limbs like a cat, sneaking a glance at himself in the mirror next to the table as he does so, battling jet lag. On this chilly autumn morning, Los Javis could do with some extra layers. Then again, maybe the three of us have goosebumps not from the cold but from discussing their film. He is eager now to emphasise the ways in which La Bola Negra, perhaps that is why the word “explicit” crops up several times in Ambrossi’s conversation today: having been out as a gay man but under the radar in his work. Ambrossi approves of this theory: “There’s a trend on TikTok where people video themselves – ‘This is us before watching La Bola Negra’ – and then it cuts to afterwards when they’re crying and hugging. No wonder Los Javis insisted on an extended theatrical window for their film before selling the US rights to Netflix.
The film has already garnered significant acclaim, recently sharing the best director prize at the Cannes Film Festival with Paweł Pawlikowski for his road trip feature Fatherland. As the movie prepares for its run, it is widely considered an Oscars frontrunner, with nominations for both best picture and best director appearing increasingly certain. La Bola Negra is scheduled for a 47-day run in US cinemas, a noteworthy record for its streaming partner. That story lends the movie its title and provides the thread that sews its strands together. As well as cheekbones that could double as clothing rails, both men have black caterpillar eyebrows.
Visually, the film is a sweeping collage, blending the historical weight of the Spanish Civil War with the modern realities of Grindr hook-ups. It features spectacular set pieces and Ken Russell-inspired flair, punctuated by high-profile cameos, including a blond-wigged Penélope Cruz and Glenn Close performing in Spanish. Ambrossi describes the final product as the queer equivalent of Titanic, reveling in the opportunity to capture scenes and emotional beats rarely explored in traditional queer cinema. Musical about a summer camp staffed by nuns.
The creative partnership between Ambrossi, 42, and Calvo, 35, has evolved over 13 years of writing together. Dinky and loquacious, his impish face crowned with a laurel of curls, ambrossi is 42. The taller, taciturn Calvo, 35, is gravely handsome. According to the movie also marks a personal breakthrough for the pair, who first met when they were actors. “Friends who read the script, To us, ‘Oh, you’re going there? ’” recalls Ambrossi. “We’ve been writing together for 13 y. He flashes a rare smile. “Good show.”. He looked at me and said, ‘You need to start. In one scene, God materialises to sing I Will Always Love You.
While their previous work, such as the 2023 series La Mesías, explored surreal themes of bad parenting and extraterrestrial encounters, this film marks a deeply personal breakthrough. They admit that for years, they projected themselves onto other characters, following the lead of creators like Pedro Almodóvar, Lorca, and Michael Patrick King. Ambrossi notes that working with Almodóvar’s company, El Deseo, provided the necessary push to confront themes of desire explicitly rather than keeping them hidden. According to italian fascists. “A lot of people have, They’ve been missing something like this. Extraterrestrials and bad parenting, their 2023 series La Mesías (now streaming on Mubi ) is a hypnotically bizarre tale of Christian pop stars.
For the pair, the film is a defiant statement. They emphasize the importance of casting gay actors in gay roles to capture an authentic, recognizable truth. Calvo reflects on his own early career as a young actor, where he was advised to alter his appearance—to cut his hair or avoid painting his nails—to hide his sexuality, a practice he now actively avoids in his own casting choices. This commitment to authenticity, he notes, allows them to tell stories that resonate with personal experience. The movie darts back and forth between three stories set in Spain: in 1932, a young man applying for membership of an exclusive casino is rejected on the grounds of his suspected homosexuality; in 1937, a callow nationalist soldier develops tender feelings for the injured republican prisoner under his watch; and in 2017, a queer historian inherits an unfinished story by Federico García Lorca, brimming with panache. The elite casino members use a system of black and white balls to vote on admitting newcomers, in the 1932 strand of the film. All this togetherness from the cinematic experience is beautiful.
The journey to this project has been public and complex. The duo previously gained fame as playwrights, actors, and judges on the Spanish version of RuPaul’s Drag Race, effectively becoming central figures in Spanish cultural life. Their transition into high-profile, dual-career filmmaking was not without its challenges, including intense media scrutiny following a high-profile personal breakup that left cameras waiting outside their doors for a month. Despite the difficulties, they remained focused on their collaborative voice.
Los Javis view their current career shift as a evolution. After years of diversifying across various platforms, they intend to focus primarily on feature filmmaking moving forward. Ambrossi suggests that while their earlier, more varied projects helped establish their public presence, they are moving away from the conventional, monolithic idea of what a director should be. Instead, they are embracing a less rigid, non-binary approach to their craft. Arms folded on the white tablecloth, he leans forward as he talks. They rub their bare arms furiously until an assistant arrives bearing hoodies.
Ultimately, the duo finds inspiration in the resilience of their own culture, acknowledging that they often rely on international perspectives to remind them of Spain’s rich, albeit complex, history. Whether shaped by the long shadows of religion or past dictatorship, they are now focused on reclaiming that history through a lens that is both unapologetically queer and grandly cinematic. As they prepare for the awards season, their goal remains clear: to continue creating work that challenges stiff perceptions of life and art.
