ESCANYAPOBRES (2024) — Greed wears many faces. Some speak in profit. Others, in silence.

Escanyapobres (2024) is a slow-burning, quietly ferocious Catalan drama that pulls back the curtain on class hypocrisy, economic exploitation, and the moral rot that festers beneath civility. Based on the 1884 novella by Narcís Oller and updated for a modern audience, the film paints a portrait of a village wrapped in tradition—and strangled by the quiet violence of money.

In a small Catalan town slowly suffocating from economic decline, the return of the enigmatic and wealthy Tomàs (Pol López) reignites old tensions. Once mocked as a miser and social outcast, Tomàs resurfaces with newfound influence—claiming he wants to invest in the town, support local businesses, and bring prosperity. But his real motive is far more sinister: control.

As Tomàs begins offering "assistance" to struggling neighbors, what seems like generosity quickly warps into quiet domination. Loans turn into leverage. Smiles become masks. One by one, the townspeople find themselves trapped—debtors to a man who measures worth not in kindness, but in power. Among them is Eloi (Enric Auquer), a disillusioned farmer trying to hold onto his land, and Teresa (María Rodríguez Soto), whose small shop is the last heartbeat of community spirit.

Director David Casademunt (The Wasteland) crafts the film with unnerving stillness—long takes, muted colors, and a soundscape that replaces drama with dread. The tension doesn’t explode. It seeps. Every agreement signed, every handshake offered, feels like a slow noose tightening around an already suffocating town.

Escanyapobres doesn’t deliver its message with rage—it whispers it with terrifying clarity: in times of crisis, the most dangerous predator isn’t war or famine. It’s the man who offers help with one hand while tightening the chains with the other.