Laughter has been called the best medicine. In the case of Spanish director Luis García Berlanga (1921–2010), it may be the best defense. Beginning his directorial career in the midst of Franco's regime, Berlanga evaded much outright censorship by disguising his subversive views in stinging satire. But he was never an ideologue. He spared no one his wicked humor, which flailed both high and low but mostly targeted authority and its corrupting force. To this he added a certain irrepressible and zestful anarchy. His greatest films, like ¡Bienvenido, Mr. Marshall!, Plácido, El verdugo, and La escopeta nacional, are carnivalesque-whirl is king, sight gags abound, and some hapless male is swept along by desire and dejection. Berlanga could also be bawdy. If it wasn't the timid bank clerk in ¡Vivan los novios! ogling bathing beauties on the beach, it was Michel, the docile dentist of Tamaño natural, under the thrall of his anatomically correct love doll. Often credited with helping to reshape midcentury Spanish cinema, Berlanga evaded the trap of the popular by subverting the conventions of the comedic. Funny he was, irreverent he remained, but his unruliness was aimed at the rulers. In that way, Luis García Berlanga became the mirthful conscience of his country.