Perhaps because he is an actor capable of throwing down a concrete wall staring, Luis Tosar has earned the place in the cinema perched on the stirrup of strength. It is a physical type that although you are a weightlifter you will always look like a weak decadent by your side. It seems to have blood pulsations of erupting volcano. You can adopt an air of an inmate that is difficult to tame and in the next film be an infamous abuser who terrifies when he seems calmer. Paint narco well and, if it is tertiary, split a skull in two with the edge of a low glass. He is throwing hormones by the ears interpreting guys who carry a breakdown that big inside . Beats that never seem completely finished. Tosar ends the adventure of being the same with a voice that sometimes sounds like some hangover hangover. He is a powerful actor, sound, with outbursts of great power. It is possible that he confronts some personnel with a survival technique: devouring or being devoured, which is a theory that emanates directly from instinct, from before complex thinking reached the human brain. But even tame that school requires an intelligence that ferments deep down in some beings gifted for acting. These days, he who kills iron kills from Paco Plaza . One of regrets and traffics, of beings with the past darker than their reputation. And it nails it, of course. To the good actors it is enough with a well constructed phrase to convince the respectable that he is attending the last defeat of Napoleon. In that pact of credulities everything is based. Also life. But the good actors are those who renounce the masks in favor of that anomaly of being another with such authenticity that they leave their own soul hanging in the dressing room. Coughing belongs to that lineage. And it is also Galician.

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