but not really seen widely on an international scale until 2024, the low budget Spanish indie The Coffee Table became 
an unlikely streaming sensation when word of mouth (including Stephen King) spread about its transgressive storyline and vicious turning of the narrative screws that teeters between horror and extremely dark comedy. Similar to the promotional tactics for another 2024 breakthrough, Strange Darling, it was touted as a film you had to go into as cold as possible for the full effect, though anyone familiar with at least two big prior cult films (one from the '70s, one from the '80s) won't be very rattled by its big taboo element. For most of the running time it feels like a particularly vicious stage play, living up to its billing as "A cruel film by Caye Casas" with a small group of characters going through one of the worst days imaginable.
and buys the table, then takes it home to assemble when he isn't being bothered by his twisted young neighbor, Ruth 
(Flores), who threatens to accuse him of child molestation if he doesn't go along with her wishes. When Maria goes out to get ready for an impending visit from Jesús's brother, Carlos (Riera), and his much younger new girlfriend, Cristina (Riera), a horrific tragedy occurs that turns the afternoon into an escalating endurance test of despair and deception. 
U.S. Blu-ray in 2025 apart from two Casas short films, RIP and Nada S.A., which remain exclusive to that release. The U.S. Blu-ray from Cinephobia (following up on their 2024 DVD edition) looks excellent and true to the source, which was shot digitally and isn't particularly 
flashy in terms of color or visual compositions. The DTS-HD MA Spanish 5.1 track sounds great with a lot of heft for the striking, interesting score by Bambikina (a.k.a. Esther Méndez), with optional English subtitles provided. Casas' original Spanish-language commentary is here with English subtitles, packed with stories about how he found the apartment for free (which made the film possible), what he did to pitch the project, what it took to cast the actors, and how he wanted to provoke the audience as much as possible. A second new commentary by Erica Shultz, author of The Sweetest Taboo: An Unapologetic Guide to Child Kills in Film (whose presence here basically counts as a spoiler!) and Lance Shibi of the Unsung Horrors podcast, digs deep into the film as well including backgrounds on many of the participants, notes on its use of visual language to build tension, and thoughts on its treatment of how the pivotal tragedy is handled versus its presence in other narratives. Also included are a making-of featurette (12m33s) featuring interviews with the cast and crew peppered with production footage, an interview with Casas (28m5s) about his background as an artist, his transition to filmmaking, and his approach to making films, a subtitled Spanish trailer, and a 1m32s gallery of production photos, plus an odd little spoken 1m15s director intro. The disc also comes with an insert booklet featuring an essay by film critic Sam Cohen.