“Put love where there is no love, and you will find love.” This is the premise of “Leonas” (Lionesses), the latest film by Spanish director Juan Manuel Cotelo (Madrid, 1966), which has been showing in Spanish theaters since May 15th. Can love be “put”? Isn’t love a feeling that appears and disappears at will? Isn’t it an untamable force? “Love is gone,” many couples say during their midlife crisis, after ten years of marriage. “Love blossomed,” two teenagers say when they begin their first flirtations. “They married for love,” is said of two nineteen-year-olds who have done what seemed to be their duty. Often, it feels as though love is an ungovernable, difficult-to-domesticate concept that roams freely wherever it pleases, and that we frequently attribute it to the magic of the moment, the alignment of planets and asteroids, or simply luck or destiny. “It was destiny,” “Cupid has shot his arrows,” “love is so capricious.”

It all stemmed from a paralysis, a blockage, a shock

After attending the preview screening of “Leonas,” one leaves the theater knowing that love isn’t so arbitrary or rebellious. Because “Leonas” is about that: instinct, but also will. This becomes clear after listening to the personal stories of its creators, Juan Manuel and Majo.

It turns out that Majo, an ordinary girl, was walking to work one day when she suddenly felt an enormous, paralyzing blockage right there on the street. She says she couldn’t even walk, couldn’t take a single step toward her destination. She leaned against a shop window, sat down, and started to cry. That’s when she called her husband, felt a little relieved, and, after some advice, began walking back home.

What happened to her was no small matter. A mental block, a paralyzing, isolated circumstance, was the catalyst, the beginning of something unexpected. On her way home, she passed by the central Caballeros Street in Valencia. And as she walked past the door of a small church hidden in an alley, she realized, by a twist of fate, that this was where she used to go to pray with her grandmother when she was just a child. She went in and sat on a bench. She needed to rest. And after a spontaneous conversation with a priest, she instinctively offered to help him with what he asked: to visit a child in a ward at the University Hospital of Valencia.

Many years later, Juan Manuel, a renowned filmmaker, goes to a television interview. He waits his turn behind the cameras on the same set and is captivated by the story of the guest before him. When they pass each other to exchange places, he says to her: “Don’t go. Give me your number. I need to talk to you.”

Continuing with Majo’s story, after her conversation with the priest, she agreed and went to the hospital to see the child. She was shocked: a child alone, sick, in the hospital, without any family member with him? She was paralyzed again. But it wasn’t the same paralysis as before. Now something moved her to action. From then on, the rest is history. Today, the NGO she founded, called ‘ Mothers in Action ,’ supports thousands of children in hospitals across the country, with thousands of registered volunteers.

After the television interview, Juan Manuel called Majo, and after their conversation, upon learning the stories of those children alone in hospitals, he too experienced a kind of mental block. Are there volunteers who give their time for free to accompany and simply be by the side of these sick children? This shock also spurred him to action. And so, once again, a movement was born from paralysis. The result: he has made a memorable film, difficult to forget, whose memory lingers in the personal history of those who see it.

Spectators in action

When, at the preview of the completed film, in the subsequent discussion, Majo invites the attendees who fill the room to close their eyes and think about that life event or situation that paralyzes them, that fills them with rage, that causes them deep suffering, surely what she is doing at that moment is a profoundly revolutionary gesture: to think if there is room for affection in that personal situation; if there is any crack for love to enter, that is, if there is room for action.

Furthermore, watching the film not only leaves a memorable impression on the viewer, but also reveals something significant to the audience: the action transcends the screen. After the screening, the viewer, quite literally, rises from their seat with the feeling of wanting to become part of the action: #viewersinaction. It’s almost a moral obligation, a matter of justice.

In response to the paralysis experienced by the filmmakers, John Paul II offers a small clue: he points out that man must “confront himself; that is, enter into a cognitive relationship with his own self” (Wojtyla, 1982, p. 3) before taking action. Therefore, no one is immune to these kinds of paralyzing situations.

And this is where each person’s conscience comes in. Ratzinger (2005, p. 44) says: ‘Conscience is the supreme norm that man must follow, even against authority.’ Conscience was what drove Majo to get into so much trouble. Her conscience told her: this child can’t be left alone. Likewise, conscience was also Juan Manuel’s driving force. His conscience told him: “What if love heals? What if I investigate it, prove it scientifically, and share it through a film, in theaters across the country?”

Because that’s what the film is about. It’s not about ethereal ideas or concepts of love. It’s about efficacy, about a tangible fact. Love can heal both psychologically and physically. It’s not just an intellectual or intentional content constituted in consciousness; rather, every action has a consequence. What is it? What science confirms: that a sick child who feels accompanied, who feels loved, who feels supported, actually improves. This is what the analyses of any medical examination say, this is what science says, and this is what the documentary shows. Action ‘reveals the person as an effective subject’ (Wojtyla, 1982, p. 23).

The action reveals the person

And in all of this, what role do the lionesses of the title play? The image on the advertising poster of the lioness protecting her (human) cub helps us understand the importance of a mother’s constant presence. Not only because of the ferocity they unleash on any predator that approaches their young, but also because of the cooperative behavior they exhibit with other lionesses in the pride to keep their cubs safe from any threat. And that’s what the lionesses in the film are like: thousands of volunteers acting together, coordinated, and passionate. Lionesses who are always ready for action. For free. Eric Fromm already pointed this out (Fromm, 2003, p. 39): ‘In the very act of giving, I experience my strength, my wealth, my power (…) Giving produces more happiness than receiving, not because it is a deprivation, but because in the act of giving lies the expression of my vitality.’ The lionesses know this. The anecdote is nice (which it isn’t) that, without going any further, Majo arrived late to the pre-premiere because she had a hospital shift with one of the needy girls.

But is what these volunteers are doing really that important? Aren’t there already public mechanisms and institutions doing what they do? Yes and no. There are people, there are institutions, but something is missing. There are options, but they’re not widely known. There are 50,000 unaccompanied children in Spain, but nobody knows it. There are volunteers who want to give their all, but they can’t find a place to sign up. We humans need to take action. ‘The great moral force of true love lies precisely in this desire for the happiness, the true good, of another person.’ (Wojtyla, 1969, p. 151)

Watching Juan Manuel Cotelo’s ‘Leonas’ is a profoundly personal cinematic experience. Because “when a film places the individual at its center, in a way that reinforces the hope for life” (Peris-Cancio, 2023), we understand the importance of this type of cinema in society. This cinematic personalism arises from the film experience itself. It’s as simple as this: when you leave the theater feeling your soul is filled and you gain some insight into living your life with hope, you know you’ve seen a film that stands apart from the rest. It’s essential.

One longs to take action. Because, as John Paul II said, ‘action reveals the person, and we see the person through their actions’ (Wojtyla, 1982, p. 12). We are what we do. Popular wisdom amply reminds us of this: that actions speak louder than words, and that the road to hell is paved with good intentions.

As the movie says, it wouldn’t hurt if, from now on, we looked with the eyes of an owl, listened with the ears of an elephant, and spoke with the mouth of a mouse. In short, let’s be alert to any situation that requires our action. Let’s be spectators in action.

Long live “Leonas, the movie”

A film that humanizes caregiving.

From a personalist bioethical perspective, “Leonas” is not only an emotional or socially necessary film: it is also a profound affirmation of the inviolable dignity of every vulnerable person. Juan Manuel Cotelo’s film places at its center precisely what can be considered inalienable: that every human being possesses  absolute value  simply by virtue of being a person, especially when experiencing vulnerability, illness, or abandonment.

The film’s great ethical contribution lies in its refusal to reduce the sick child to a mere “case,” a number, or an object of healthcare, but rather to a concrete individual in need of presence, connection, affection, and support. This is one of the documentary’s greatest anthropological achievements: reminding us that care is not simply about applying effective medical protocols, but about recognizing the other person as someone worthy of love. The Bioethics Observatory emphasizes precisely that “the ontological foundation of care lies in the fact that we care because the other is someone.”

“Leonas” also reveals a dimension often overlooked in contemporary approaches to health: the importance of interpersonal relationships in the processes of healing and suffering. Personalist bioethics emphasizes that a person cannot be understood in isolation, but rather in relation to others, considering their physicality, vulnerability, and need for mutual care. In this sense, the film subtly dismantles the modern fiction of the self-sufficient individual: we all need to be supported at some point.

Of particular relevance is the way the documentary addresses child vulnerability. Hospitalized and unaccompanied children represent one of those especially vulnerable groups that must be given priority protection by any truly humane society.  UNESCO itself  reminds us that bioethics must promote “respect for human vulnerability and personal integrity.” The film translates this ethical statement into concrete images and real faces.

But “Leonas” goes even further. The film implicitly presents a cultural critique of a society where healthcare resources, institutions, and technology exist, but where human support is often lacking. And here one of the central issues emerges: it is not enough for a life to be biologically sustained; every person also needs recognition, affection, and meaning. Science can often heal the body, but love radically humanizes the experience of suffering.

Ultimately, the film’s thesis fully aligns with  Karol Wojtyła’s personalist intuition : action reveals the person. Human beings find fulfillment through self-giving. This is why the volunteers of “Mothers in Action” don’t appear as idealized heroines, but as people who discover their own fulfillment precisely in the act of giving themselves to others.

“Leonas” achieves something rare in contemporary cinema: it reminds us that tenderness also has an ethical and social dimension. And that love—when it becomes action—can be a genuine healing force.

FILMOGRAPHY

Cotelo, JM (2026)  Lionesses

technical specifications

Title:  LIONESSES, the wildest instinct

Duration:  94 minutes

Year of production:  2025

Production Company:  Infinito Más Uno

Screenplay and direction:  Juan Manuel Cotelo

Executive Producer:  Simona Puskas

Photography and editing:  Carlos Peñaranda – Agustín Martínez

VFX:  Pau Rodilla

Music:  Kike Soriano, Juan Manuel Cotelo.

Starring:  Majo Gimeno, Yanirha López, Amparo Arona, Pablo Tárrega, Pilar Comenche, Marta Gil, Emilio Monteagudo, Pilar Herreros, Mariola Penadés, Borja García, Manuel Palomar, Raquel Orero.

Distribution in Spain:  A Contracorriente Films

International Distribution:  Infinity Plus One

Carlos Aguillo. Actor and Film Director. Researcher in Philosophy and Film. Doctoral School of UCAV and UCV 

***

Literature

Wojtyla, K. (1969).  Love and responsibility.  Reason and faith.

Wojtyla, K. (1982).  Person and action.  BAC.

Fromm, E. (2003).  The Art of Loving.  Paidós Contextos

Ratzinger, J (2005)  Truth, values, power.  Rialp

Peris-Cancio, JA, & Oliver-del Olmo, E. (2023).  A proposal for the philosophical reading of the cinema of Aki Kaurismäki: “The filmic personalism of the loser who expresses his or her dignity with love and friendship”.  AYLLU-SIAF, Vol. 5, No. 1, January-June.