Some films seem designed more to sell postcards than to tell a real story, and Wolfgang is a clear example. Everything looks spotless: Barcelona, Paris, the pristine homes, the polished interiors... but there's no real emotion behind it. What we see is a showcase disguised as a drama.
The movie keeps pushing for easy tears from the very beginning. Everything is calculated to make the audience empathize, but it never feels genuine. The characters are stereotypes we've seen countless times: the clumsy father, the troubled prodigy child, the unbearable grandmother... even the supporting roles feel like they've been copied and pasted. Whatever the scene, you already know what's going to happen.
The child protagonist, instead of inspiring tenderness, ends up being exhausting. His portrayal as a "special genius" is so overused that he feels more like a screenwriting trick than a nuanced character. The father isn't any better: exaggerated to the point of caricature, written without subtlety. It all reinforces the sense that we're not watching an honest portrayal, but rather emotional manipulation poorly disguised.
The only one who manages to shine is Anna Castillo, as the psychologist and piano teacher. Her role brings a bit of freshness and naturalness that stands out among so much artificiality. Whenever she's on screen, the film breathes a little. But it's not enough to balance a story weighed down by clichés.
In the end, Wolfgang feels more like a product than a movie. It tries to move you through formulas and well-worn tropes, but ends up doing the opposite: pushing viewers away with a forced dramatization and postcard-like imagery. There are Sunday TV films with fewer pretensions that manage to surprise far more. Here, everything feels too calculated, too perfect, too empty.
