Bruno Martín’s debut points a double barrel of action comedy at the lingering threat of Euro-fascism
In the sprawling Spanish industrial district Santos 117, Rafa (David Sainz) and Toni (Mario Mayo) are two professional fixers for morally flexible lawyer Ángela (Ana Turpin). At Ángela’s call, Rafa and Toni spring into action to muscle and maneuver whatever messes they need to untangle for Ángela’s clients. But what should have been a routine car retrieval takes a sharp turn: the trunk holds a safe, the safe holds a priceless Nazi Luger, and suddenly every criminal in Santos 117 is gunning for them.
Bruno Martín’s electrifying debut is a breathlessly fun time, infusing relentless action comedy with a laidback hangout vibe. It effortlessly meanders between seat-grippingly tense chase sequences, raucous bro-comedy, and trenchant social concern–following very much in the footsteps of Green Room or The Warriors as much as it does something like The Banshees of Inisherin.
The chaotic energy of a fast-paced, on-the-run film like this can only be sustained by the chemistry of its cast. With Luger, Martín packs the screen with an ensemble of unforgettable, one-scene wonders—each a vivid slice of Santos 117’s gritty, colorful criminal underworld. From scheming pawnshop hustlers to punk-rock safecrackers who treat every job like a one-night stand, sharp-tongued café queens to junkyard kingpins and poker-faced restaurateurs, the film parades a rogue’s gallery of strange and wonderful heavies—each more colorful than the last. The film’s undoubtable standouts are Luger’s central duo of Sainz and Mayo; there’s a palpable history between them, rich with brotherly devotion undercut with a bitter fear of abandonment. Toni is fresh from a multi-year prison stint, while Rafa remained on the outside–with Rafa eying leaving the criminal life for far-off Australia, their repaired friendship already shows signs of fraying that neither man wants to openly admit. Like the best friendships, Martín makes us very aware of what Rafa and Toni will let slide between each other versus what they find difficult to let go of–and that becomes just as much of an antagonist between them as any Nazi thug or two-faced ally these two face during one insane day together.
That always-simmering character tension is best released in Luger’s kinetic action sequences. Martín, cinematographer David Hebrero, and stunt coordinator Joaquín Ortega are endlessly playful yet don’t shy away from the brutal consequences of their action. One moment, the camera glides past a fistfight to linger on a cascade of bouncing tires; the next, a dying character calmly collects their scattered teeth before they shed their mortal coil. It’s a searingly physical reflection of the relaxed yet ruthless dialogue barbs exchanged in Luger’s hilarious dialogue, well-penned by Martín and co-writer Santiago Taboada.
That sense of consequence also underpins Luger’s social commentary, where the specter of fascism becomes an idle, profitable plaything for the rich and powerful. Martín and his team gleefully lampoon the market for Nazi relics in a “modern, diverse” society, but the laughs come laced with uncomfortable dread. The villains—some profiting off the very pasts they’ve tried to bury—stay insulated from the bloodshed, pitting class and creed against one another to do their dirty work. In one standout sequence, the coveted Luger passes hands until Rafa’s sent to a potential Nazi bar with two heavies—a Romani man and a poor Spaniard (played by Martín himself). It plays like a twisted “walk into a bar” joke, but the phantom punchline is who’s missing: the well-off, possibly fascist boss who lets others bleed in his place. Likewise, the film’s endlessly shifting alliances, even between characters whose trust seems unshakable in the face of greed or personal safety, evokes the bitter amorality of fascist collaboration–and just how much power these evil forces gather when a drive for individual profit or mercy threatens to outweigh a sense of greater good. Like the heartfelt bromance between Rafa and Toni, the thrilling yet thoughtful violence of Luger equally becomes a reflection on what a country can tolerate versus what aspects require a long-overdue ass kicking.
Powered by the irresistible bromance of David Sainz and Mario Mayo alongside Bruno Martín’s insightful eye for comedy, chaos, and social critique, Luger is a fast, ferocious caper that tackles weighty topics without ever losing its stylish swagger.
Luger had its world premiere at Fantastic Fest 2025, where it’s currently seeking international distribution.
