Never have I got such a message of the cruelty of the sport as is conveyed in this film, which owes much of its excitement to superb color photography.

Francesco Rosi's 1965 feature is widely (and plausibly) considered the best movie about bullfighting, in part because of its irony and finesse in capturing how the sport springs from and plays against the social reality of Spain.

It's a colourful, cruel world of senseless exploitation (of animals and humans alike) and tyrannical traditions, rendered with vivid brilliance by this uncommonly unsentimental director.

[Rosi's] intentions were overwhelmingly achieved, and the savagery of his view of that bullfighting culture was so strong that several times I grabbed the arm of my companion -- a film director -- for support.