Girl with the Golden Panties 1980

Luis Forest, an aging Falangist writer (portrayed by Pep Munné), has retired to Sitges to review his past, ponder a failed marriage, and write his memoirs. He lives in near-total isolation, sharing a sprawling house with only his dog and Tesla, the housekeeper, for company. The quiet routine of his days is a fragile shield against the guilt that lingers over his political past and his complicity with the Francoist regime. The atmosphere is thick with memory, regret, and a sense that every room in the house holds a trace of what was and what could have been.

The stasis is shattered by the sudden arrival of Mariana, his niece, a bright and carefree young woman who says she has come to interview him for a magazine piece about his autobiography. Mariana, played by Victoria Abril, arrives with a companion in tow—a silent, enigmatic photographer named Elmyr (portrayed by Perla Vonasek). The two form an immediate, unsettling presence in the old house: Mariana’s vitality and curiosity clash with Luis’s measured, guarded reminiscences, and Elmyr’s quiet, almost ghostly presence seems to push the boundary between spectator and participant. The dynamic is electric and disorienting: Mariana and Elmyr bicker, smoke, and appear to be lovers, moving through the rooms with a confidence that unsettles Luis. The relationship between Mariana and Elmyr grows increasingly intimate, and the house becomes a stage for their flirtations and secret exchanges. Elmyr’s identity is not what it seems at first; the photographer is revealed to be a woman, adding another layer to the already tense web of desire and power.

Luis’s uneasy world expands when Mari, Mariana’s mother, calls to warn him that Mariana has fallen under Elmyr’s influence and that Soledad, Luis’s estranged wife, has died. Mari’s tone is practical but anxious, and she notes that Soledad’s funeral has already taken place, with her four children reluctant to see their father. The sense of closure is porous, and the past continues to leak into the present, making the house feel both claustrophobic and alive with unspoken histories.

Flashbacks illuminate Luis’s younger years and the tangled loyalties that shaped him. He was drawn to both Mari and Soledad, courting Mari first but then confusing Soledad for her sister one desperate night. That misstep set in motion a chain of decisions that culminated in marriage to Soledad, a union that proved unhappy and fragile, ultimately dissolving under the weight of disappointment and distance. Mari’s own romantic history becomes entwined with Luis’s fate when she has a brief, reckless affair with him, a moment that leads to Mariana’s birth years later when Mari marries Luis’s close friend, José Maria Tey. The revelation that Mariana is the daughter born from that one night changes the moral landscape of the story, recasting past actions in a brutal, intimate light.

As Mariana offers to type up the manuscript, she begins to see that Luis has altered and even fabricated many events in his memoir. The two of them confront the distortions of memory, while Elmyr remains a provocative, disruptive force in the house—sometimes present, sometimes hovering at the edge of the frame. The trio’s dynamic becomes increasingly complex as the lines between admiration, aggression, and desire blur. The house becomes a confession booth where secrets are laid bare, and the boundaries between generations and between lovers become dangerously porous.

The tension erupts one night when Mariana is out in the town and Luis confronts Elmyr—only to discover Elmyr is a woman who is already entangled with a young man. In a moment of impulsive anger, Luis expels Elmyr from the house, sending her away to Ibiza for safety. Mariana’s initial outrage subsides, and she returns to her own realities, understanding that the storm has not passed but moved to a new location. Left alone with Luis, Mariana seduces him, and he succumbs to the pull of her presence, crossing another dangerous boundary and allowing longing to override caution. The old man’s world shifts as desire collides with duty, and the consequences of their encounter begin to echo through the house’s walls.

Worries about what Mariana’s presence and the manuscript might reveal lead Mari to visit Luis again, bearing the truth that Mariana is actually Luis’s daughter—conceived from their one-night stand. The calamitous news crushes Luis with guilt, and he retreats to his room, attempting to take his own life with a shot at himself; he only wounds his hand. Mariana and Mari rush to his side, and as they tend to him, Mariana’s response to the revelation is chilling in its calm defiance. When Luis asks if her mother ever told her the truth, she simply replies, “So what?” and continues to care for his wound, leaving the question of responsibility and memory to hang in the air like the lingering scent of the past.

In the end, the film leaves Luis’s memoirs and the fragile interior of his life overlapping with the present, a reminder that memory is never neutral and that the shadow of the past can reach across generations to unmake a person from within. The house, the landscape of Sitges, and the characters’ intertwined fates remain a meditation on truth, guilt, power, and the complicated tenderness that can exist even in troubling relationships.