He was born in Logroño in 1926. At 25-years-old and committed to being a writer, Azcona decides to leave his paternal home and travels the short 400 kilometres to Madrid in 1951, where he subsists on Spanish-style bocadillo sandwiches and coffee tertulia discussion groups in cafes. In the Spanish capital, he lives on low wages and going through numerous odd jobs until he met Antonio Mingote in 1952, who opened the door to La Codorniz, a magnificent forum for Azcona to have free reign for his sardonic wit. He worked as a regular there until 1958, writing more than 300 articles under the names of Azcona, Az, Profesor Azconovan or, simply, Rafafel Azcona.



As happens from time to time, he made a “detour” to film by chance. In 1958, the Italian filmmaker Marco Ferreri decided to make a film of one of Azcona’s books, El pisito, and asked the writer if he would write the script. The story of a young couple who find it impossible to buy a flat (Did we mention that this was in 1958?) thus became the first script for someone who would end up being one of the most important figures in Spanish film history. After El pisito came Placido, The executioner, The National Shotgun, The Heifer, The Girl of Your Dreams, Belle Epoque and Butterfly´s Tongue. In addition to Berlanga, Cuerda and Trueba, Azcona worked with Carlos Saura (¡Ay Carmela!, Peppermint Frape, Cousin Angelica, Ana and the Wolves) and with Jose Luis Garcia Sanchez (Goodbye with All My Heart, The Court of the Pharaoh), among many others.



Five Goya Awards for his scripts and another one for lifetime achievement, the Spanish national cinematographic award, and fine arts gold medal – all well deserved awards for a man who refused to appear in public and in photos. In this, as in all he did, Azcona was faithful until the day he died. He was as he lived, without making noise. He detested obituaries and funeral wakes, and therefore didn’t want anyone to know of his death until after he had been cremated. He leaves us a posthumous work, Los girasoles ciegos, by his friend and disciple Jose Luis Cuerda. He wasn’t able to see it finished. Lung cancer wouldn’t let him. A bit of Spanish social history is revealed in his lucid and corrosive view of life. His films, which live beyond him, give new meaning to the question posed by the little boy, Montxo, a main character of one of his scripts, which he asks his teacher in Butterfly´s Tongue. The great Rafael Azcona has passed away, but “When one dies… do they really die or not?”