La Corrida invites us into the arena through the eyes of the bull rather than the matador. At first, the animal is confused by the music, trumpets and dazzling light after waiting in a dark pen. Very quickly the bull realizes there is no escape, and his natural instinct to defend himself is met with taunts, colorful costumes and sharp blows. Each charge, each swirl of the torero’s cape, feels like a grotesque dance staged for the crowd’s amusement. The bull’s repeated question, “Est-ce que ce monde est sérieux ?” (“Is this world serious?”), becomes a haunting refrain that exposes the absurdity of glorifying violence as entertainment.
Francis Cabrel turns a traditional symbol of Spanish culture into a powerful protest song against cruelty and spectacle. By giving the bull a voice, he flips the usual narrative: the so-called hero appears as a “ridiculous dancer,” while the doomed animal emerges as the tragic, relatable protagonist. The final lines in Spanish, urging the crowd to “dance again” and “kill others,” underline how easily society can become numb to suffering once it is wrapped in ritual and celebration. La Corrida is therefore not just a tale of bullfighting — it is a broader plea for empathy, asking listeners to rethink any tradition that masks brutality with pageantry.