The plot introduces us to Ana Paucha (played by Ángela Molina), who calls herself Ana no, an impoverished 75-year-old widow who lives in a small village in Almeria. Her husband and her two eldest children died in the war, and her youngest son has been in prison in the north of Spain for the last 30 years. Ana feels as though her own death is imminent and so decides to lock up her house forever. Carrying nothing more than an olive-oil sponge cake, she embarks on a voyage northwards to embrace her son for the last time and give him the cake, which he used to love so much when he was young. It is a coming-of-age journey across late-1960s-era Spain, during which Ana will come to know herself while encountering characters along the way that will lead her to question her place in the world and the overarching meaning of humanity.

DIRECTOR'S NOTES:
For me, the original thing about Ana no hinges on putting a starving elderly woman at the centre of the story – a figure who is almost invisible to society but who, against all odds, embarks on a heartrending, personal and epic journey that will tug at the viewer’s heartstrings because of its inherent realism and grittiness. Her path towards death will also paint the portrait of a country scarred by a war between brothers, and of a whole generation of silenced, forgotten women. I’m going for a simple, stripped-down and evocative film language, where images, silences and gestures carry more weight than words. The camera will accompany Ana closely and respectfully, allowing her gaze to serve as our guide as we traverse this broken landscape. Thus, the script and the direction will go hand in hand to build an atmospheric and strangely beautiful film experience that is more suggestive than explanatory, while always respecting the spirit of Arcos’s novel.