Caye Casas’ black comedy The Coffee Table is a bit wobbly

Dark comedies seem to be getting a second wind in the age of new tense comedies of errors by Safdie Brothers and a litany off-color jokes on social media. For fans of the black comedy genre, they’ll be sure to find delight in The Coffee Table from Spanish director Caye Casas (Killing God), which recently had its U.S. premiere at Austin’s 2023 Fantastic Fest. 

Jesús (David Pareja) and Maria (Estefanía de los Santos) are a couple who just had a baby boy, and are in the process of moving into the husband’s now-deceased grandmother’s home. The film opens with the couple in a furniture store arguing back and forth over a coffee table while a pushy and mediocre salesman attempts to woo the man into buying the table. Jesús wants the table, Maria not so much. A single pane of unbreakable glass (or so the salesman tells them) held up by two tacky Atlas-like statues painted in an even tackier fake gold finish. After going back and forth, the husband decides to purchase the table, a decision he will soon come to regret. At home, he sets the table up, and notices a screw missing when finally Maria decides she’s had enough. Maria goes to the grocery store to prepare for an upcoming visit from Jesús’ brother and his girlfriend, leaving Jesús alone with the baby. 

To go into any further detail is to spoil the rest of the film, but be warned this movie gets bleak, and fast. But that’s kind of it, it just gets cruel and morbid and then spends a good amount of its 90-minute runtime meandering in a way that doesn’t build the tension up but rather slows the movie down. Clearly directed by someone with an understanding of the medium and its paces, this film struggles to keep a consistent pace after the initial shock. Things that get set up throughout the film meant to cause you to uncomfortable squirming soon disappate, leaving you to wonder when they will return. The sense of dread brought upon by the tragic accident vanishes once you’ve sat with Jesús for longer than 10 minutes, and eventually, you begin to wonder when all of this will come back and blow up in his face. 

That being said, the direction from Casas is focused and when it finds its rhythm it's snappy and engaging. The acting—though good—leaves a bit to be desired as well. The two leads are stellar individually, but the chemistry isn’t always there. At times, Jesús and Maria show us a realistic depiction of a relationship failing where the baby was the last ditch effort to turn everything around. At other times, they are supposed to portray a relationship stronger than they have the power to convey, which can cause a distraction from the film. The secondary characters are interesting and entertaining, adding a decent amount of gravity to the tension of the film’s final act. 

Speaking of the final act, the already grim film gets significantly darker once the brother and his girlfriend come over for lunch. Finally facing the consequences of his actions, Jesús is lost and in a full panic. The atmosphere in this portion of the movie is so airtight that you can almost forgive the middling second act. This is where the cinematography really shines through and offers some really unique visuals that lend well to that overarching sense of dread present throughout the film. One shot, in particular, comes to mind when during lunch Jesús tries to keep his act together and not reveal his heinous secret. A great showcase of visual storytelling where without words the audience is plopped directly into the mind of Jesús and forced to live through the horror with him. 

The Coffee Table offers an interesting look into the story of a family falling apart brought on by tragedy and secrets. The bones are there, and when the movie is on, it’s a force to be reckoned with. Unfortunately it’s a bit dragged down by a second act that lingers, before coming back with a vengeance with a thrilling and nailbiting third act.