During a speech at the Bicentennial Museum yesterday, president Cristina Fernández de Kirchner announced the creation of a new audiovisual district on Demarchi Island, in Puerto Madero. She also signed a decree raising subsidies to the film industry.

The new district will be placed on Demarchi Island, near the Puerto Madero casino, on state-owned land. The newly created Agency for the Administration of State Property will transfer ownership of 120,000 m2 of land to social security body Anses. Anses will then have 30 days to call for tenders, as all the development will be carried out by private investors. The government estimates investments for up to US$150m in offices, shops, recreational spaces, a stadium, and the areas dedicated specifically to film production.

President Fernández also signed two decrees which will favour the film industry. The first one names filming a “productive industrial activity”, thus awarding the audiovisual industry with the same type of benefits other industries receive, such as access to credits for small and medium-sized companies and tax exemptions. The second decree raises the amount of subsidies the state will give the film industry, as well as the maximum amount the National Institute of Film and Audiovisual Arts (Incaa) can give individual projects, from the current $3.5m to $5.5m.

During the presentation, president Fernández highlighted the fact that “Argentina is the fourth worldwide exporter of audiovisual content.”

The announcements were well received by the film industry. “The country needed an audiovisual disctrict, and filming to be considered an industry to strengthen production,” said Liliana Mazure, president of Incaa, to Página 12.

The city government, however, rejected the initiative, claiming that the city already has a similar project underway. They were referring to a city law which awards tax exemptions to production companies located in the neighbourhoods of Palermo, Chacarita, and Colegiales. Buenos Aires chief of cabinet Horacio Rodríguez Larreta said that the government will need the city’s approval to use the land on Dimarchi Island.

IdeaMe: is an online platform, which helps creators, be they inventors, artists, or designers, among others, to finance their projects through crowd funding. Each week, the Indy features and promotes one project every week, with the aim of helping the creators finance and achieve their dreams. This week: Ciclos de Cine Para Vecinos, by Biblioteca Popular Eduardo Martedí.

“To spread those films, those directors and those ideas which as of yet are not widely known and seem to us that they would be of interest to others”.

Such is the goal of the Ciclos de Cine para Vecinos project, according to Martín Echenbaum, a spokesperson for the team at the Biblioteca Popular Eduardo Martedí that has proposed this project on Ideame.

The Biblioteca Popular Eduardo Martedí was founded in 2010 by a group of students from the University of Buenos Aires with the idea of “encouraging reading, education… but in a comprehensive way, not only to encourage the culture of reading – that is, the written word – but also a more comprehensive political education.”

The library – which today holds around 3,000 volumes – is housed in what was formerly the garage of the Spanish Cultural centre Centro Español de Sada y sus Contornos.

Martín explains that the library was founded with the hope of making books more accessible to all. Asking only “minimum requirements” for membership – such as a fee of $2 per month – the library seeks to confront challenges to the accessibility of books in Buenos Aires.

Martín observes several obstacles in this regard. First, he notes, “there is generally not much familiarity today with the concept of public libraries. You walk down the street and you don’t find a public library.” And second, he remarks that “books are very expensive”, and that because many books are imported to Argentina, “they come at a price that is vey difficult to access”.

While books are central to the library’s mission, however, Martín also observes that “we thought that with a library alone isn’t sufficient.”

In this spirit, the library not only offers its members the chance to borrow books, but also a wide range of activities. Taking advantage of the space of the Centro Español de Sada y sus Contornos, the team has organised “book presentations, discussions about a variety of themes, including literature, politics, history, anthropology, music presentations, poetry readings, theatre.”

Now, they would like to add one more activity to their agenda: Los ciclos de cine para vecinos, or Cinema Cycles for Neighbours. In order to make this project a reality, the group has turned to crowd funding on Ideame to raise money to purchase a projector and a screen.

The idea of the cinema cycles is that each cycle would be based around a particular theme; proposed themes to date include the Spanish civil war, World War I, and Italian cinema, among others.

Martín observes that the topics of the cycles are “themes that are important to us… and in which there is also an interesting cinematographic production that allows us to unite the two goals that we have: on the one hand, the artistic question, the cinema, the language; but also the political and cultural issue”.

He emphasises, “we’re not interested in having a projector and holding cinema cycles to show films that can be seen at the cinema, but rather to approach history, politics; these are the things that interest us”.

The themes, Martín says, “are very important historical events with which all of us have some familiarity, but if we accompany them with reading texts and watching films, we can see them in a new way, with new depth. We can take something away from all of this.”

To support the Ciclos de Cine Para Vecinos project, click here.

Children at the ‘Taller de Cine Rodante’ (Photo: La Grifa)

Cinema is a part of our cultural fabric. It combines visual, verbal and musical components to tell a story (our story, everyone’s story). Outside the city, going to the cinema is more difficult and in a country that prides itself on film, this seems confounding. Some of the country roads are difficult to handle and those who have ventured Ruta 40 through Patagonia can attest to it. The terrain and lack of media infrastructure make it difficult to connect people and interweave the people’s stories. Even though the city life may seem more familiar, the rural Argentine identity is fascinating and still remains to be explored.

The NGOs Fundacion Ruta 40 and La Grifa have taken on the challenge of artistically integrating the different stories of rural life. They have also taken on a different angle: the child’s perspective. Together, the organisations hope to teach children how to make short films and share them with other children of the country. They believe this will create a better understanding of one’s identity as an Argentine in Latin America. By helping develop this awareness, the organisations hope it will also provide a better sense of their roles as community actors.

The people at Fundacion Ruta 40 have driven throughout Argentina’s interior, specifically around Ruta 40. Through their travels, they encountered people who taught them a lot of what rural life was like in Argentina. It inspired them to give back by donating money and time to provide the kids an opportunity at learning about their own country through film. So far, they have worked with 23 schools.

Ruta 40 Organisation

La Grifa travels around Argentina offering workshops on creating short-films and collecting these small stories in, what they refer to as, their “backpack”. This organisation started in 2009 with Colectivo Salpicón, but are now working on their own. So far, the trio of Ailén, Josefina y Delfina have been helping build children’s creativity through learning how to create three animation-shorts, audiovisual games and flip-books. When La Grifa leaves, they take the small films to other schools to show other children the kinds of projects have been created by other kids in the country.

“Taller de Cine Rodante” as a project is to keep travelling to various provinces in the nation teaching and working with children to realise their creativity. Their current project hopes to reach three rural schools in Salta in August. The creations will be versions of stop motion film with the children telling their own story, combining elements of their history, expressions of their personality, designing the script, as well as making the titles, credits and the poster.

The project is looking for financing for their August trip to Salta, specifically targeting El Trigal and two other rural schools close to Cachi and La Poma. The funds raised will also help the group get materials and a camera that will stay at El Trigal school so that the children can continue to create stop-motion animation.

So far, they have 65% of their funds raised. You can learn more about the project or help fund it through their idea.me campaign.

Now in it’s 14th year, Instituto Multimedia DerHumALC’s (IMD) International Human Rights Film Festival has brought films focusing on human rights and environmental issues from all corners of the globe to Buenos Aires.

Still from Australian film 'Abendland'

The festival is putting on a mixture of short, medium and long documentary and fiction films, consistently focused on global human rights – a subject that occupies the consciousness of Latin Americans and Argentines due to a far too recent heritage of dictatorships, civil wars and social movements. It therefore makes it fitting for this consciousness to be embodied in the film festival’s theme this year: Identity.

“We chose the issue of Identity because we see it, metaphorically speaking, as a tree deeply rooted in the past to bloom in the actions and choices of the present,” explains IMC festival director, Florencia Santucho.

“Just like the branches and leaves turn towards the sun in search of vital energy, each person needs their identity to freely develop their potential and choose their own path.”

The Greek documentary The Argentina Experiment, one of the films running for the festival’s Feature Films Official Competition, illustrates this mentality by investigating how identity can be derived from the development of present decisions from the actions of the past. It follows Greek director Yorgos Avgeropoulos’s return to Argentina ten years after the economic crisis to see if Greece can learn fiscally from Argentina’s example.

Although constantly framed by the theme of identity, the festival branches off into many sub-topics covering a diverse range of issues, both international and national – from the environment, native peoples, childhood and youth, to migrants and gender views. The festival casts a wide scope, showing films on Colombia, on the Middle East, the Arab Spring, while also opening the ‘window’ to controversial political movements in Venezuela and Cuba.

Films competing in the Feature Films Contest include the Austrian documentary Abendland (meaning ‘evening land’ in German), a critical commentary on the Europe’s addiction to technology and security, and the influence of the Western world. In Acorzado, a Mexican fictional entry, the protagonist decides to make a raft from his neglected taxi and sail off for a better life in the USA, only to find himself in Cuba. The British documentary Cocaine Unwrapped on the other-hand offers a start to finish look at the cocaine trade and asks some important questions about the way governments are fighting back against the industry.

Each film in the festival teaches the viewer lessons on the way we look at life – from Journey to Portugal’s questioning of border control’s treatment of people, to the Canadian short documentary, Keepers of the Water, chronicling the plight of group of children protesting about environmental crime.

Putos Peronistas, Cumbia de un Sentimiento is in competition this year.

This year’s festival also sees the addition of the National Film Contest category, which focuses on homegrown talent. Drawing on the central theme of identity, Sin Punto y Aparte (No Full Stop) follows its director’s return to Argentina after fleeing to Israel during the military dictatorship, and discovering the role of Judaism in modern day Argentina. Putos Peronistas, Cumbia de un Sentimiento (The Peronist Fags, Cumbia Feeling) tells the fascinating story of a revolutionary political group of Peronist homosexuals in a district of Buenos Aires. Also catch the woman’s prison based Captive Moons, and the documentary Jopoi, All Together, on the legacy of Paraguayan indigenous language.

As festival director Florencia Santucho explains, each film corresponds to a “social memory [which] is deeply rooted to the identity of all communities where each and everyone knows who he or she is in view of the sum of past experiences, present commitments and future objectives.”

Through others’ exploration of identity the festival tries to make the viewer question their own perceptions, asking, “how much does the judgement of others influence our perception of ourselves?” The theme of Identity isn’t just there to tie the films together neatly; it’s also a recommendation on how to view these films.

All films are showing in ten venues across the city from the 23^rd to the 30^th May. For more information see the IMD festival’s website for the programme.

Prior to an epiphany in 2003, Korean/Brazilian film director Iara Lee had been immersed in the study of adapting the human limits of experience through technology. ‘Synthetic Pleasures’ (1995) panned across the subjects of virtual reality, biotechnology, plastic surgery, and designer drugs, previewing the facets of a transhuman future. “We amuse ourselves to death,” Lee quipped in a 1996 interview with Ruse Magazine.

An adoptive US-citizen and spouse of pro sports entrepreneur George Gund III, Lee was less amused by 2003. Observing the US invasion of Iraq with horror and concern over a future of self-destruction, she embarked on a documentary journey spanning five continents and answering those critics who questioned her political engagement as a filmmaker.

‘Cultures of Resistance’ (2010) – the product of Lee’s journey – is above all a testament to the power of cultural expression as a form of political activism. From the Amazon Basin to Nigeria, the Congo, Burma, Iran, and Palestine, among other locales, citizens and featured artists discuss the complexities of peace, violence, art, and resistance in pursuit of social justice.

Central to Lee’s depiction of global conflicts is the tension between waging violent and peaceful campaigns of resistance. After a barrage of themes imposed over a roving aerial map – “Imperialism”, “Oppressed Becomes Oppressor”, “Nonviolence”, “Art” – the film begins with footage from around the world on International Peace Day.

Following a disparate timeline of events that span roughly from the end of the 1980s to the present day, ‘Cultures of Resistance’ explores, side by side, the despairing mentality of resistance and hope. From the execution of Nigerian pacifist Ken Saro Wiwa in 1995, to the terror of repeated rape victims in the Democratic Republic of Congo, the fatal logic of violent mobilisation receives necessary if disheartening scrutiny, crucial to Lee’s candid portrayal of social struggle.

In the Amazon basin, chaos ensues over the Xingu dam project as an audience of sword-wielding indigenous residents ambush a representative of the project. Former child soldiers in Liberia provide chilling testimony of their abandoned life of drugs and violence. In the favelas of Rio, wanton attacks by both police and gangs prompt one artist to call the situation an “epidemic of minor conflicts everywhere”.

“Your mind must look at the darkness, but your will and action must be driven toward change,” says an Iranian activist.

The true alternative to violence, the film suggests, is resistance through art forms committed to activism. Musicians, editorial cartoonists, graffiti artists, poets, and dancers exhibit the ways in which cultural resistance facilitates education, unity, renewed identity, and the possibility of nonviolent reconciliation.

Some of the most alarming images in the film revolve around displaced children and their exposure to habitual violence. Many of the individuals interviewed lament and warn that the poverty and instability in these children’s lives will perpetuate cycles of violence in the absence of just reforms.

As in many documentaries that examine child poverty, the footage of wide-eyed kids staring into the camera lens highlights not only the gross inequality of electronics constructed from expropriated minerals, but the inadequacies of portraying daily life as these communities understand and live it. The range of locations and struggles considered in ‘Cultures of Resistance’ is so manifold that each and every instance, in its own right, could warrant several documentaries apiece.

To analyse this film strictly on the basis of the material presented would be inexcusably naïve, however, and too often ‘Cultures of Resistance’ contradicts its own criticism of the Western media’s suppression of facts.

It is beyond necessary for these underrepresented viewpoints to be heard and dignified with meaningful, committed dialogue, but the film seeks blamelessly to present a panoramic vision of a world in dire need, meanwhile condemning the left’s usual suspects of oppression to the status of monoliths.

The effect, unfortunate and short-sighted, is that deeply complicated and crucially different struggles, while informative in relative isolation, are minimised by an unspoken conviction: the superpowers of the world (“The United States and global public opinion” the film wryly jokes) will be locked in eternal antagonism.

It is no secret that Iara Lee was a proud participant in the 2010 Gaza Freedom Flotilla, a humanitarian mission protesting the Israeli-Egyptian blockade of Gaza. Lee was a passenger on board the Turkish MV Mavi Marmara, the only one of six vessels to clash violently with the blockading Israeli Defence Forces. In international waters, nine activists were killed and seven Israeli soldiers injured in a clear mismatch of defence capabilities.

The United Nations Human Rights Council later produced a report detailing the circumstances of the confrontation, calling Israel’s conduct a violation of human rights but also casting doubt on organisations involved in the Flotilla. More significantly for global public opinion, Lee managed to withhold some footage of the incident despite Israeli forces confiscating nearly all traces of what happened.

While Israel got a lead on international media coverage of the event, Lee’s below deck footage went severely underreported in mainstream sources until long after, giving credence to accusations of a Western stranglehold in the global public relations war.

The incident in Gaza bears significance to ‘Cultures of Resistance’ because it underscores the critical role and responsibility of the media in bringing conflicts around the world to the attention of populations everywhere.

While Lee’s film courageously empowers voices buried beneath the prevailing slant, it does too little in the way of engaging precisely those audiences it deems sources of the problem. The segment on Palestine – at times a damning and disturbing indictment of Israeli practice (deemed an apartheid regime) – lacks the kind of full contextualisation that would better serve the peace process than inflaming an intransigent neoconservative reaction. ‘Cultures of Resistance’ risks such audiences watching without seeing.

Perhaps this is part of the calculus of making a film that will encourage social and political activism. “Your anger is a gift,” Rage Against the Machine’s Zach de la Rocha often said. Rooted in the left’s countercultural tradition, it is little surprise that Lee skilfully bridges art and politics – just like the protagonists of her film and members of the Cultures of Resistance Network who do, undoubtedly, effect positive change in communities around the world.

There is a certain kind of synthetic pleasure in depicting a political aesthetic of resistance, one that assimilates righteousness, technology, and the human heart in the service of awakening cultural identity.

The question is whether ‘Cultures of Resistance’, with its global aspirations for justice and peace, stirs up viewers’ unflinching conviction at the expense of critical examination. To bring true understanding of one’s adversaries, as well as the divides separating us’s from them’s to begin with, would seem a more arduous and insecure road. But it would make us all rely less on cynicism for inspiration. Art will survive.

As the 14th international BAFICI film festival gets underway and the city is awash with cinephiles, we thought we’d give you a run down of great Argentine directors so that you can hold your own this week when chatting to the moustache-twiddling, beret-sporting, Deleuze loving (that one’s for the real pros) film enthusiasts.

Far from a comprehensive list, our Top 5 Argentine Directors sets out to tell you five directors you should know about, and should give you plenty to chew on while BAFICI is underway.

Leopoldo Torre Nilsson

Leopoldo Torre Nilsson (1924-78)

The grandfather of Argentine film, Leopoldo Torre Nilsson helped bring prestige to Argentine cinema and was the most important figure in inspiring the younger generation of film-makers who started the new-wave in Argentine cinema at the beginning of the 1960s. According to international filmmaker Roman Polanski, he helped bring Argentine cinema up to international quality without ignoring subjects that were integral to Argentina.

Obsessed with the decline of the bourgeois society in his country, his films were often filled with sexual and societal frustration and peopled with dark characters with shadowy pasts who move in decadent environments. He directed. with humour and finesse.

Born in Buenos Aires, the son of the pioneering Argentine director, Leopoldo Torres Ríos, Leopoldo spent his formative years working under with his father and lost in the books of Jorge Luis Borges, Marcel Proust and James Joyce. His mother was an Argentine of Swedish descent and he cited her compatriot, the director Ingmar Bergman, as one of his greatest influences. He lived young and directed fast, making 30 features in little over 25 years.

His most fruitful collaboration was with his wife, the writer Beatriz Guido. Together, they adapted her novels ‘La mano en la trampa’ and ‘La casa del ángel’ into screenplays that became two of his most successful and critically acclaimed films. When the latter came out,  French filmmaker and critic Éric Rohmer called it “the best film to have arrived from South America since the beginnings of cinema.”

No stranger to Argentine literature, Torre Nilsson was a friend of the author Ernesto Sabato and also known for directing screenplays based on the work of other Argentine writers including Roberto Arlt, Adolfo Bioy Casares, Jorge Luis Borges, and gauchesque poet, José Hernández.

For more information find Leopoldo Torre Nilsson on IMDB or visit his website

Leonardo Favio

Leonardo Favio (born 1938)

Born Fuad Jorge Jury, Leonardo Favio lived through a tough childhood in a small town in the north of Mendoza. An Argentine of Syrian descent, he is a true artistic polymath who built a career out of directing, writing, composing, singing and acting. Much lauded in his home continent, many believe he never got the recognition he deserved on the international scene.

Working under the tutelage of Argentine director Torre Nilsson, he was invited to act in films at the end of the 1950s, and the beginning of his career as a director followed shortly after with the production of his first short film in 1960. Four years later, his debut feature ‘Crónica de un niño solo’ cemented his place at the forefront of Argentine cinema.

The influence of filmmakers like the Spanish born Luis Buñuel and founder of French new-wave cinema François Truffaut was evident, although his personal style and strong aesthetics also shone through. He turned the focus away from a popular fixation with the urban bourgeoisie, towards the tough life at the fringes of society. For this reason he is credited with helping to break the barrier between popular culture and high art.

His films, despite shirking away from the mainstream and embracing the experimental, enjoyed a mass appeal in Argentina. Another of his most acclaimed films, ‘El romance del Aniceta y la Francisca’, is considered by many to be one of Argentina’s best.

An element in his life that cannot be ignored is his vehement support of Peronism. In 1999 he released an exhaustive 340-minute documentary about his political idol: ex-president and controversial figure Juan Domingo Perón.

In 2010, he was appointed Argentina’s Cultural Ambassador by fellow Peronist and current president, Cristina Fernández de Kirchner.

For more information find Leonardo Favio on IMDB

Fernando ‘Pino’ Solanas

Fernando ‘Pino’ Solanas (born 1936)

Fernando ‘Pino’ Solanas was born in Buenos Aires province and has made his name as one of the most important Argentine directors and documentary-makers.

Unlike Favio, Solanas has gained a global recognition, winning the Golden Bear at Germany’s Berlinale, the Special Jury prize at the Venice film festival and the Best Director award at Cannes.

Solanas’ work comes inextricably linked with politics. Any discussion on the director must surely go hand-in-hand with the mention of ‘Grupo Cine Liberación’ – a cinematic movement with which he was strongly affiliated. In the 1960s and 70s, the movement offered a reaction to Latin American politics and global cinema, focusing on making films that were socially and politically committed rather than purely entertainment driven. With their militant cinema they tried to demonstrate that Argentina was a society in crisis.

Their trademark was to make films anonymously, a move that encouraged collective creative processes and also protected them from political repression at a time when dictatorships were starting to emerge across the continent. Their most acclaimed film from the period was a four-hour documentary titled ‘La hora de los hornos: Notas y testimonios sobre el neocolonialismo, la violencia y la liberación’. The film became a symbol of activist cinema during the zenith of leftist politics.

For more information find Fernando ‘Pino’ Solanas on IMDB or visit his website

Armando Bó

Armando Bó (1914-81)

The inclusion of director Armando Bó in this list might raise a few eyebrows, but his influence and cult following should not be underestimated.

US filmmaker John Waters once said that when he was searching for inspiration he would look to the Argentine director’s films and wish he spoke Spanish. And well, that’s about as apt an introduction as the director could hope for. He described ‘Fuego’ (Bó’s best-known film) as “a huge influence”, admitting “I forgot how much I stole”.

In a time when sexploitation films were taken more seriously and the line between art-house and soft-core was slightly blurrier, Armando Bó was king. This auteur of sorts made 30 films between 1954 and 1980 – none of which were too subtle or nuanced. He hacked his way through plots, played for slapstick laughs and flashed a lot of flesh but the audience loved it and kept coming back for more.

He made 27 films starring the now retired model and actress Isabel Sarli. Sarli was Miss Argentina 1955, the Brigitte Bardot of Latin America and the filmmaker’s real-life lover.

“You inspired us all to a life of cheap exhibitionism, exaggerated sexual desires and a love for all that is trash-ridden in cinema,” Waters once said of Sarli, but it’s a comment that works just fine for Bó too.

For more information find Armando Bó on IMDB 

Juan José Campanella

Juan José Campanella (born 1959)

Probably the most recognisable name on this list for a contemporary audience, Juan José Campanella is a member of the exclusive two-man club of Oscar-winning Argentine directors. He has spent much of his working life in the United States and has directed several English language films as well as a number of North American television series.

Born and raised in Buenos Aires, he began studying engineering at university but famously dropped out with only a year to go to pursue a career in filmmaking.

He is credited with helping to restore pride in the Argentine film industry which has historically suffered from “chronic self-depreciation”. “In Argentina, a Hollywood movie is innocent until proven guilty. An Argentine movie is the other way around. I have to work really hard to break down that barrier,” he told one US publication in an interview.

Having been previously nominated for an Oscar in 2001 for his film ‘El hijo de la novia’ (‘The son of the bride’), Campanella’s talents as a director were finally recognised in 2010 when his film ‘El secreto de sus ojos’ (‘The secret in their eyes’) was awarded the Oscar for Best Foreign Language Film.

A classy, unpredictable film noir set in 1975 Buenos Aires – it brought the spotlight back on Argentine cinema and helped make him the most bankable homegrown director in Argentine history.

He is currently working on an animated feature called ‘Metegol’ (‘Foosball’) and, the way things are going, it probably won’t be the last time we see him fumbling at his collar nervously at another red carpet event.

For more information find Juan J. Campanella on IMDB

While Hollywood is known for action and special effects, France scores with intellectual depths, the British go for realism and Italian movies show us what la dolce vita looks like – what comes to our mind when we think of argentine cinema?

Nothing? Really? No problem, you are about to find out.

The world of Argentine cinema has many faces. La Argentina is a traditional country, and to a great extent, so are its movies. Very true to its culture, Argentine movies will give you an insight into their people’s way of thinking and behaving. In accordance to its turbulent past, many films treat hard subjects, such as politics and social injustice. On the other hand, modern Argentine cinema goes beyond traditionalism and keeps up with international standards.

Argentina’s film scene is growing rapidly. The highest number of films in the history of the country were produced in 2009. Due to the talent of its directors and actors, Argentina has managed to become one of the most important producers of films in the Spanish speaking world.

Our Top 5 will give you the “Introduction to Argentine Cinema 1.01”: What Argentines love and what moves them, which films received international attention, what does el cine argentino offer cinematography wise – these movies will lay the foundation to understand all the aspects of the country’s cinema.

1. Nueve Reinas, 2000, Dir: Fabián Bielinsky

If you ever find yourself discussing cinema with a group of Argentines, mention the “nine queens” and you’ll be sure to impress. Showing you everything you need to know about the world of dodgy porteños, this movie is Argentina’s favourite.

‘Nueve Reinas’ is a movie written and directed by Fabián Bielinsky in 2000. It features Argentina’s best loved actor, Ricardo Darín.

Juan and Marcos are typical porteño con-men, whose paths cross while Juan is scamming a cashier. Impressed with his skills, Marcos lets Juan come along to his cons. Juan’s dad is in jail, so he hopes to raise money with the help of Marcos, to bribe his dad’s judge and get him out of jail. Then an unexpected opportunity presents itself: a former con friend of Marcos convinces them to sell his fake copies of the high value ‘Nine Queens’ stamps to a rich collector. He promises them a profit margin of US$200,000. The two accept, but right before closing the deal things start to go wrong. A thieve steals the fake stamps right out of their hands. They try to buy the real stamps off a widow for a price low enough to still make profit. Though Juan mistrusts Marcos, he puts in US$50,000 on top of Marcus’s contribution of US$200,000 to buy the stamps and resell them at US$450,000. After receiving the cheque, the two go to the bank to cash it. Unfortunately for them the bank just crashed, making the cheque worthless. It seems that the two cons are ruined, but the final scene reveals that things did not happen exactly the way they seemed – you can never trust a porteño con!

This movie is funny, light and smart, perfect for a relaxed evening when all you want is some light entertainment. Pleasant side effect: No Argentine will ever have the chance to screw you over, because you will be ahead of the game!

2. El Secreto de sus Ojos, 2009, Dir: Juan José Campanella

This breathtaking movie is the second Argentine export to win an Academy Award for Best Foreign Language Film in 2010. It is directed by Juan José Campanella. ‘The secret in their eyes’ is a 2009 production starring once again Argentina’s favourite, Ricardo Darín.

It tells the story of the legal counsellor Benjamin Espósito (Ricardo Darín), who after 25 years comes back to Buenos Aires to write a novel about one of his old murder cases, hoping to find closure. The case haunted him ever since, just as his secret love for his former superior Irene had.

In 1974 a young women was violated and later killed. Espósito reluctantly takes on the case. When talking to the dead woman’s husband, he is deeply touched and develops a strong bond with him. Together with Irene they hunt down the killer and bring him to jail.

The movie is influenced by Argentina’s 1976-83 dictatorship. This period is widely recognised as one of the bloodiest historical episodes of the 20th century, with human right activists estimating that 30,000 people disappeared during that time. ‘El secreto de sus ojos’ includes the issue in the plot. The killer collaborates with the regime and is therefore released after just one year of imprisonment. Benjamin, Irene and the victim’s husband Ricardo have to live with the knowledge that the killer will go unpunished. With this, director Campanella demonstrates the open wounds from which many Argentines suffer until today with respect to the happenings and unresolved cases during the dictatorship.

When Benjamin returns, not only does he discover new information concerning the case, but he reunites with Irene and gets a second chance to tell her how he always felt about her.

‘El secreto de sus ojos’, as the title already suggests, puts focus on the eyes of the protagonists, and the secrets they betray. The victim’s eyes and the secretive expression in those of her husband plague Benjamin’s mind. The tension between Irene and Benjamin is not vocalised in the movie; it is only to be found in the way they look at each other.

This movie is an argentine masterpiece in terms of photography, direction, acting and suspense. Though it is not rich in action, you will be highly touched and surprised – their eyes will follow you all night!

3. El Hombre De Al Lado, 2009, Dir: Mariano Cohn and Gastón Duprat

This movie breaks with the mould of Argentine movies. No screaming and cursing argentines, no political context and no family get-together – this film is a smart black comedy that shows what Argentina has to offer in terms of photography and intelligent portrayals of social relationships, especially among different classes.

‘The man next door’ is directed by Mariano Cohn and Gastón Duprat. The 2009 production won the award for cinematography at the Sundance Film Festival in 2010.

The main character Leonardo is a popular industrial designer who lives with his wife and daughter in a house famous for having been built by Le Corbusier. He appears to be a distant and narcissistic person. Next door lives Victor, an unpleasant and vulgar salesman. When Victor starts to put in a window in his apartment that is located directly in front of Leonardo’s kitchen window, a conflict is inevitable. The situation is intensified by daily incidents between the two neighbours. While Victor mostly ignores the complaints of his neighbour, Leonardo becomes obsessed with the conflict and it destroys his everyday life.

Actor Rafael Spregelburg does a remarkable job interpreting the main character Leonardo and his ambivalent personality. During the film, sympathies switch between the characters and you will never be quite sure whose side you are on.

The ending bears a surprise that divides the audience between loving and hating the film. However, one thing is certain: the intelligence and cinematography of the film will impress you. The movie also successfully breaks with the mould of culturally specific Argentine productions. Those from Europe or the US will be able to identify with the characters just as easily as any Argentine would.

This movie is perfect to watch if you want to see modern Argentine cinema that gives a universal perspective on human behaviour and excels in photography and story development. Though you might not get an adrenaline kick out of this movie, it will definitely make you think!

4. La Historia Oficial, 1985, Dir: Luis Puenzo

‘The Official Story’ is an Academy Award winning drama from 1985. Directed by Luis Puenzo, this movie treats the delicate time after the dictatorship in Argentina. It was honoured with not only an Academy Award for Best Foreign Language Film in 1986, but also with a Golden Globe in the same category. Actress Norma Aleandro won the award for Best Actress at the Cannes Film Festival in 1985.

The story is based on real events that occurred during the dictatorship in Argentina from 1976 to 1983. The new born babies of the desaparecidos (people who went missing after being persecuted by the regime) were often given up for adoption to people who were either involved in the regime or did not ask questions about the family background of the child. Until this day, the families of the desaparecidos, along with the Abuelas de Plaza de Mayo, are fighting to get the children of their dead relatives back.

Alicia, a teacher in middle school, and Roberto, a well situated business man, fulfil their long-cherished dream of parenthood by adopting little Gaby. After a few years of happiness, Alicia cannot ignore the feeling that the adoption of Gaby might have had something to do with the dictatorship. She starts to investigate to find out the truth about her daughter’s birth.

Alicia, naive and unaware of the environment she lives in, did not know about the bloody events that occurred during the dictatorship. Only when a friend of hers returns to Argentina after years in exile and tells her about her destiny, does Alicia start to realize what really happened in her country. For the first time she listens to her students, who tell her that the books authorised for teaching are written by murderers, hired by the regime. She begins to notice people demonstrating in the street, fighting to get their children back, which were taken by the regime.

When she realises that she never had the chance to meet Gaby’s birth mother, she gets curious and is determined to find out the truth about her daughter’s parents. What she is about to find out will change her life forever.

This movie finds a way of helping the viewer to understand what it was truly like to live in Argentina after the dictatorship. How people found out only bit by bit what really happened in their country, how the country mourned for the victims that were never found and the crimes that were never acknowledged. While history books may have given you the facts, this movie will make you experience what it means to feel the desperation of losing your loved ones.

This film will overwhelm you with its abundance of emotion and its touching performances. Be prepared to be touched – and dive into the years after Argentina’s most violent decade.

5. Esperando La Carroza, 1985, Dir: Alejandro Doria

If you ever want to experience an ordinary Argentine Sunday, this movie will bring the adventure right into your living room. Family members shouting at each other de la puta madre, deception and madness at its best – this movie shows you what goes on behind Argentine doors when the family comes together.

Alejandro Doria directed the cult comedy from 1985. It is an adaption of a theatre play written by the Uruguayan Jacob Langsner, first performed in 1962. The movie features some of the best known Argentine theatre actors of the time, such as Antonio Gasalla, China Zorilaa, Luis Brandoni and Betiana Blum.

Family time – three siblings get together with their wives to enjoy a lunch together – which after a mere two minutes turns into a heated discussion about who will take care of their mother, Mama Cora. By the time you get the feeling they are about to kill each other, the group receives surprising news: Mama Cora has killed herself.

Feeling guilty about their attempts to shake off the responsibility of looking after their own mother, and the verbal attacks that accompanied them, an emotional outburst ensues, resulting in an even more aggressive and yet hilarious fight. Too bad they do not know the confused Mama Cora is right next door.

Make sure to have some aspirin at hand when you watch the movie, the screaming matches might give you a headache. However, you cannot help but love the characters, so do not miss out on an opportunity to take a seat and lunch with the Argentines.

Dedicated to Octavio Getino, author of ‘Cine Argentino’, ex-director of the National Institute for Cinema, for his continuing labour of love in the field of Argentine cinema, and without whom this article could not exist: truly an example of Gaucho nobility.

Filmmaking is often called the glamour industry, an apt name given that the etymology of glamour stems from the Old Scottish gramarye meaning ‘enchantment’ or ‘spell’. Few entertainments can boast of such magic, where image and poetry and music all come together harmoniously in a sustained suspension of reality. Indeed, there are few people on the planet who have not succumbed to its spell, and judging from the full movie theatres and quantities of students of cinematography, Argentines are no different. Nonetheless the film industry here is struggling despite the keen interest and abilities of local talent: directors, actors, and photographers. Given the high quality of the films produced in Argentina, proven by movies such as ‘El Secreto de sus Ojos’ (2009) or ‘La Historia Oficial’  (1985), both winners of the Academy Award for Best Foreign Film, one would think that filmmaking was an extremely profitable form of national expression. Unfortunately, this is not the case. Argentine filmmaking was originally developed and remains under a framework of neocolonial dependence, and local filmmakers confront major economic and cultural obstacles in order to develop their art form.

Buenos Aires: Fin du siecle

Near the end of the 19th century, there were two types of immigrants who arrived on Argentine shores: the great majority came from the underdeveloped areas of Italy and Spain and quickly adapted to the local creole population; and those immigrants from the industrially developed countries – France, England and Germany – who created a professional and economic elite, largely keeping to themselves.

Thus it is not surprising that commercial activity in Buenos Aires was largely controlled by foreigners, especially the English. Not only were trains, streetcars, gas provision, meat and grain production controlled by them, but there was also a huge influx of ideologues, bureaucrats and technocrats fleeing the demographic boom of the late Victorian and Edwardian ages. In 1875, the city registered 250,000 British citizens, but by 1913, there were over two million holding over 76% of industrial concerns and 81% of businesses. As George Canning, English diplomat and promoter of the first treaty between the newly founded Argentina and a European nation, once said: “We prefer the rights of Englishmen over the rights of man.”

In terms of ideology, this was the period in Argentina when socialism and positivism, with its emphasis on scientific method, took root in the minds of these elites who looked upon the dichotomy between life in the Americas and life in the mother England as a simple distinction between ‘barbarism’ and ‘civilisation’. In other words, there was a tendency to prefer imported goods, fashion and culture as expressions of civilisation over local ones, and although the concept of ‘colonisation’ probably was distasteful to these enlightened few, they accepted the hegemony of Europe over America and duly sought only to ‘improve’ what already was arguably an outpost of Britain. Local intellectuals apparently shared this sentiment, echoing former president Sarmiento’s words written half a century earlier: “Although the European invasion can only be seen as detrimental and ruinous for the nation, yet it is useful in terms of Civilisation and Commerce.”

Eugenio Py at work in the late 1800s.

Given this predilection for European culture, it should be no surprise that moving pictures caught on fast here. On 28^th July 1886 Lumiere’s ‘The Train’s Arrival’ became the first film to be shown in Argentine territory; scarcely a year later, French photographer Eugenio Py created the first film registered and processed in the country: ‘La Bandera Argentina’  (The Argentine Flag). The race was on. In the year 1900, the first cinema opened, the Salon Nacional, and the first drama was filmed locally in 1908: ‘El Fusilamiento de Dorrego’  (The shooting of Dorrego). Soon after, the first big production companies were founded and then in 1915, what is considered the first Argentine blockbuster: ‘Nobleza Gaucha’  (Gaucho Nobility). Not only did this film artistically cover aspects of Argentine reality, but it was also an economic success, encouraging production companies to continue their efforts in this area. Curiously, the economic success of Nobleza Gaucha is considered to be due to its appeal to the masses, an important distinction from successes in the years to follow.

Europe in Eclipse

World War I dimmed the excessive European influence over Argentina, although the die was cast, and the tendency to prefer everything European remains to this day. During the war years, when Argentina’s ties to Europe were loosened, the nation began to develop new forms of national and cultural expression, particularly movies, and these with a distinct social perspective.

poster for 'El tango de la muerte

The first steps taken in Argentine filmmaking were made by José Agustín Ferreyra, one of the most noted directors of the period right after the Great War. Ferreyra believed that what Argentine filmmaking needed was “a little more love, zeal, and less carelessness and disdain, for ourselves and our own.” Considered neorealist before the term was even coined, he faced an ongoing battle with the owners of the theatres: “The movies were only shown on Mondays in the worst neighbourhoods where fewer people went. And the producers, if they paid at all, would only pay a pittance.” Nonetheless Ferreyra today is considered one of the fathers of Argentine filmmaking, a symbol of the desire to reflect the nation as it is.

Another important figure of this period was Fédérico Valle, a prominent developer of documentaries. He created his own newsreel company which produced over 500 editions up until the year 1930. He was forced, for economic reasons, to sell his archives to a comb factory which wanted to use the celluloid for its factory; the National Archives had repeatedly shown no interest in obtaining the collection. Another important name is Hector Quiroga who filmed the insurrection of 1919 and included the footage in his film, ‘Juan Sin Ropa’  (Juan Undressed), a movie which reflected a period in Argentine history when “the working man refused to continue kow-towing to an all-powerful lord, and began to strive to recover his dignity and other undeniable human aspirations”. The underlying themes to movies such as Nobleza Gaucha and Juan Sin Ropa touched several national nerves, and appealed to all audiences.

The Golden Era of Baireswood

As one of the principal producers of films, as well as of cinema’s raw materials – actors, technicians, photographers, and scriptwriters – in Latin America, Argentina became one of the main exporters of movies to other countries in the region. During the 1930s while Europe was still in a process of stabilisation after the Great War, and the US has fallen under the weight of Wall Street, Argentina grew rapidly, especially in those areas where it did not directly compete against the importation of British merchandise (a result of the Roca-Runcimann treaty, where Argentina agreed to export meat to Britain as well as hand over the control of its principal slaughterhouses and meat packing industries in exchange for British manufactured goods). This new industrial force also benefited the film industry, allowing Argentina to take the lead in Spanish-speaking cinematography.

Libertad Lamarque (El Alma del Bandoneon, 1935)

This period also saw the transition from silent movies to ‘talkies’. Local production companies invested in equipment and infrastructure, and effects were soon forthcoming: ‘Munequitas Porteñas’  (Port Dolls, 1931) and ‘Tango’  were huge hits in the local market, but also started two divergent paths for Argentine filmmaking: the one, inspired in popular culture with the neorealistic tendency to soul-searching, and the other, of bourgeois nature, which in the words of the novelist and essayist, Estela Dos Santos “took the path of industry and commerce…with a system of tango melodrama that would make Libertad Lamarque into the feminine counterpart of Gardel, the greatest star and most sacred monster in the style of Hollywood.” Needless to say, the latter style, along the lines of Hollywood, was more successful.

The two main directors that emerge from this time period as advocates of a distinct Argentine film aesthetic were Mario Soffici and Leopoldo Torres Ríos. Soffici eloquently expressed his vocation to Argentine filmmaking thus: “Cinematography (here) must be renewed, from the inside out. We are misguided if we allow other mannerisms, forms or styles come to us and pass them off as our own. If we have nothing to say, it’s better to remain silent. A prudent silence is worth more than any showy or insincere manifestation.”

Despite the fact that during the 30s and 40s Argentine filmmaking was free market – that is, there was no government aid nor regulation of the industry – film production continued to grow undiminished leaving behind all other regional competition. Nonetheless the local film industry was playing a losing game by investing more in Hollywood style films; although business appeared to be good, this was due more to the problems other nations were undergoing, rather than any merit on behalf of the films produced. It would be only a question of time before the nations, innovators of film producing and technology, would begin to assert their hegemony again.

A Recipe for Bankruptcy

The real beneficiaries of the film industry in Argentina during this period were the distributors and the theatres. The producers, according to film historian Jose Agustin Mahieu “with suicidal improvisation, turned their films in with a fixed price, so the greatest gains made by eventual blockbusters stayed in the distributors’ hands… the industry’s axis was in the hands of numerous intermediaries that absorbed the greater part of the ticket profit. Little by little, the production companies were taken over by these intermediaries who would offer advances on future movies, for which they would then receive more advantageous conditions.” These intermediaries were, in fact, representatives of foreign production companies within the local system and had no incentive to foment the production of local films.

Other major changes in Argentine society of this time left their mark on the film industry. The move from a primarily agricultural nation to an industrial one with a corresponding move of workers from the countryside to the city occurred against the backdrop of World War II and the ideological conflicts incurred therein. According to intellectual, journalist, historian, editor, political activist Rodolfo Puiggros, this period was marked by “the shading and hiding of the internal causes that determine the contradictions of Argentine society, and the placing upfront of external causes, thus substituting the (traditional) struggle against imperialism and oligarchy for the fight for democracy against fascism.” In other words, the traditional struggle that had marked Argentine society since revolutionary times, the attempt to consolidate a unique identity versus the one imposed by the different waves of colonisation, was subsumed by the more global struggle determined by the contention between democracy and fascism.

The political powers of the time preferred to side with the anglophile ideologies, against the rising working class, that was immersed in the social upheaval concomitant to obtaining labour rights: the forming of unions, strikes, marches and the like. Curiously, the workers who thus fought for their rights were considered ‘barbaric’ and their claims were ‘illegitimate’ when faced by the now ‘democratic’ powers (i.e. oligarchy) that sided with the Allied forces. The great majority of the middle classes, anxious to rise on the social ladder, were quick to unite themselves to the ‘civilizing’ forces in power, and the movie production studios reflected this shift.

Madame Bovary, 1947

Natural scenery was substituted for huge sets, which could more easily portray a Russian palace or Paris in the winter. Actors were cast if they showed predominately European features, and those of mixed race were cast in secondary or ‘evil’ roles. Language was also modified and the characteristic ‘voseo’ of Buenos Aires was altered to the civilised ‘tu’ of Castilian Spain. Local themes were also discarded and the great works of Western civilisation were portrayed: Shakespeare, Flaubert, Ibsen, Tolstoy. In short, filmmaking in Argentina became another tool for neocolonisation in which local filmmakers were the unwitting accomplices, forced by economic and social demands to produce movies which did not reflect the national reality. And inversely, the movies that were produced were not attractive to the middle class who could not identify with the values expressed therein.

In addition, post war attempts by the US to neutralize all competition in the region led to the limitation of the importation of celluloid, at the time considered to be of strategical value. Stymied at every turn, the industry asked for government intervention: in 1944, the first protectionist decree took effect and theatres throughout the nation were obligated to show Argentine films. In an article titled “The transnational influence of Argentine cinema”, authors Muraro and Cantor affirm that thanks to government protectionism and subsidizing “the film industry was able to produce 32 movies in 1946 and achieve its greatest output – 56 films – in 1950. In addition, the showing of foreign films diminished; only 131 were shown in 1950, still surpassing local production by a wide margin.” This period of protectionism was notable not for the quality of the films produced, but by its mediocrity; according to Getino, “[The movies] did not need to interest anybody…many times the investment was assured even before commercialisation began. There were so many advantages offered to the industry as well as the obligation to show national films that many invested in production studios.” Nonetheless hardly anybody risked capital in infrastructure – it was a time of fulfilling ‘quotas’ – and few directors risked altering the tried and proven formula provided by Hollywood. Hugo del Carril’s ‘Las aguas bajan turbias’  (Murkily Flows the River) is a notable departure from this formula, portraying unjust working conditions in the yerba mate plantations in northern Argentina, where workers were only released—downstream—once they had died.

The Entity

The transition period from the post war era was marked by a decrease in movie production in part due to the advent of the television, and in part due to the change in policy after the fall of Perón. Dos Santos maintained that “after Perón’s fall from power, the film industry was paralysed. Protectionism ceased to exist and cinemas were no longer forced to show Argentine films. There was a free-for-all to import foreign films which the public devoured enthusiastically.” In 1956, only 12 movies were filmed in Argentina, but 576 foreign films were shown in local cinemas.

Poster for 'Los 40 cuartos'

Another obstacle to local film production was censorship which reared its ugly head in Argentina in 1963 as a way of controlling the ‘pornographic’ material in some independent films such as ‘Alias Gardelito’  (Alias Little Gardel, 1962) or ‘Los Cuarenta Cuartos’  (The Forty Rooms, 1963). This same year government subsidies for filmmakers were recalled as well as grants for short film producers. Suddenly filmmaking became an almost impossible labour.

Military control increased over the following years, usually in alliance with the Catholic Church, or what locals call the union between ‘the boots and the cassock’, and censorship was officially embodied in an organism called the ‘Ente’, or the Entity, formed by anonymous members of moralist groups only known as ‘Fathers’ or ‘Mothers’ or ‘League for Childhood Protection’. In a startling reverse during Perón’s third administration, the Entity was replaced by specialists in psychology, education, sociology, religion, film and culture as well as by representatives of the different labour unions. Over a period of 14 months between May 1973 and July 1974, the new Entity strived to present a project for a new law that would aid the sector including: 1) the release of all films banned for political/ideological motives, domestic and foreign alike; 2) an easing of censorship; 3) the improvement of the national film production; 4) the increase in national production; 5) the increase in public attendance; 6) a strengthening of the industry’s organisation and participative policies; 7) the elaboration of a legislative project to free and foment industrial and cultural values of cinematography. This movement, so heartening to the flagging producers, directors, and actors of the time, was not to last; the military coup d’êtat of 1976 saw to that.

Under the Military Junta

The effects that the coup had on all cultural life in Argentina have been widely documented; the film industry is no exception. Thus, the newly conceived project for legislation was almost immediately aborted, and all activities of incipient labour unions in the film sector abruptly ceased. Censorship began again, this time under the Entity’s new director, Miguel P. Tato; movies that had been banned and then released, were banned once again. Any reason was sufficient: sexual content, religious content, as well as a wide range of ideological content. Fewer movies were produced and those that were produced were of a slapstick variety, of little cultural value. Many directors, old and young, fled the country or were assassinated or disappeared; production companies folded; movie theatres closed. In short, Getino describes the situation thus: “the people’s access to films was banned, and in a clear political maneuver, their attention was turned to television broadcasting which was controlled entirely by the intelligence services, the Army’s psychological forces, and by the puppets of cultural policy imposed from 1976 on.”

This closing of the theatres corresponded with the denial of political, economic, social and cultural rights, which accordingly ceased to reflect the national experience altogether. While before the predilection for a foreign aesthetic had been a matter of choice, after the military coup, Argentina and Argentines practically disappeared from the silver screen. It is fitting, a somewhat tacit admittance of guilt, that the military repressors responsible for the cessation of all these rights did not document their deeds, nor allow their moment in history to be immortalized in movies. The efforts to ‘civilise’ the nation have ended up in ‘barbarism’; thus Argentina is a place where, according to Getino, “history is dominated by the conflict of ‘autonomous development’ (i.e. liberation) versus the ‘development of underdevelopment’ (i.e. dependence), with its most dramatic confrontations determined in the fields of culture and cinematography.”

Modern Times

The Argentine filmmaking industry is still reeling from the consequences of the dictatorship and the exacerbated neo-liberal policies that characterised the democratic governments immediately following, although there are now signs that it is recovering. The latest (2009) revision to the National Cinema Law requires that local movie theatres show at least one Argentine film per quarter, a requirement that is barely met, not because of a lack of movies produced here but by lacklustre advertising and ill-conceived commercial practices in general. In Argentina, cinemas are more likely to show Hollywood fare because people eat more popcorn, and the concession stands are where the real money is made. This recalls Eddie Izzard’s take on US vs. English films; Argentine filmmaking must have more in common with English productions than is commonly thought.

On the other hand, mainstream distributors from the US force a package deal on Argentine theatres interested in showing a particular blockbuster; they must take another three not so successful films in order to receive the hit one. 

Ultimately, filmmaking is a business like any other according to the present value system. Ability and talent take second place to money, and the efforts to create an authentically national expression using film as media has been affected by the global distributing behemoth which is Hollywood. Even India, which produces more movies per year than any country in the world cannot compete with the US for distribution.

The Human Rights Film Festival

As Argentina hosts the 13th annual Human Rights Film Festival this year, we would do well to remember that democracy itself is based upon one of the most important and basic human rights: the right of free speech and expression. Filmmaking is and always has been an example of the exercise of this right. As can be seen by the history of cinema in Argentina, filmmakers here have been set upon by an inordinate amount of threats to their ability and opportunity to express themselves freely whether the obstacles take the form of neo-colonial tendencies, imperialistic blackmail, fascist repression, neo-liberal market favouritism, or just plain bad luck. Yet they have persisted in their labour, with what can only be termed as ‘gaucho nobility’. Argentine filmmakers have something to say; the least we can do is pay attention.

Presenters talk to the students during 'Talent Campus'. (Photo: Mauricio Escobar)

Argentine director Ariel Rotter sends laughter through the room as he claims: “I never went to 80% of my classes. In fact, I always felt film school was just getting in the way of me making films.” Ironically, his audience are film students and their teachers at Buenos Aires’ Universidad del Cine, the very same film school he attended before achieving success. As the school produced his first feature ‘Sólo por hoy’ in 2000, perhaps this critique of his former educators is a little audacious. Especially when he is speaking to Talent Campus, a four-day event run alongside the Buenos Aires’ Festival of Independent Cinema (BAFICI), that aims not just to launch the career of one director, but the next generation of Latin American film makers.

No small task. But, over the past 10-15 years film schools have played a huge role in the emergence of the buena onda – or “good wave” – of films that have swept Latin America in this period. Apart from their impressive quality it is hard to find any unifying features in such a diverse array of films, other than the fact that it has been an incredibly youthful cinematic movement. Latin America’s film schools have been crucial in equipping a generation of film students, or quite often drop-outs, with the tools and confidence needed to tell their continent’s stories. Together they have helped resurrect national cinemas ravaged by dictatorship and economic crisis. Gaining international acclaim and a global audience, together they have achieved recognition of Latin America cinema as some of the most exciting in the world.

Of all those involved in this celluloid revolution, one of the most influential schools has been Buenos Aires’ Universidad del Cine (FUC). Former students include Pablo Trapero, Bruno Stagnaro, Lisandro Alonso and Celina Murga. A leaf through this year’s BAFICI catalogue will reveal a whole host of names associated with FUC. Founded in 1991, just four years later student feature films for theatrical release were being produced, something unknown in most of the rest of Latin America.

(Photo: Mauricio Escobar)

This great ambition continues today in Talent Campus, a project designed to find Latin America’s most promising young film makers and develop them to be able to take the continent’s cinema forward. The Latin Wave has moved from beyond its original poles of Argentina, Mexico and Brazil, and the project brings together students from Venezuela, Colombia, Chile, Brazil, Paraguay and others.

The extensive selection process was open to not just directors, but students in all areas of film making such as screenwriters, cinematographers and editors. All had to present a short film on which their applications were assessed, and to be in the difficult stage of trying to produce their first full-length feature film.

The students I talk to inside FUC’s beautifully restored building in San Telmo are bursting with ideas which they are eager to share with me. Talent Campus aims to develop them not only artistically, but also by giving them the practical knowledge of how to get films made in Latin America. Manuel Ferrari, the event’s coordinator and also a teacher at the school, tells me the primary objective is for them to meet one another, engage creatively and develop productive relationships that will lead to projects.

The four-day programme also involves a number of workshops focused on the technical aspects of film production, while discussion sessions tackle broader issues within the industry. The varied selection of talks aims to create more of a dialogue between students and established industry figures. Two key themes emerge from the programming of this year’s Talent Campus, and those which provoked the most discussion, were the impact of new technology, as well as the benefits of, and potential risks of reliance on, capital available for film makers from European film funds.

New technology seems to be a mixed blessing for Latin American film makers. The fall in the price of technology makes more adventurous projects possible on smaller budgets. But, technology is also driving a shift in viewing habits away from cinemas towards laptops. While piracy further reduces the chance of recouping art house budgets, perhaps even more worrying is that the internet seems to be attacking the dominance of the feature film itself as a medium, with people viewing ever shorter clips online. Rotter admits it seems to be getting harder to get people’s attention and this fear is reflected in the title of one of the sessions: Film after Film.

The participants of 'Talent Campus' gather in the San Telmo school. (Photo: Mauricio Escobar)

However, when I ask the students whether they feel threatened by these changes, or feel among a dying breed, they seem unfazed, instead seeing new developments as an exciting challenge. Paraguayan Hugo Cataldo is bullish about the feature film’s ability to survive, as “photography never killed painting.” When asked whether he is thinking about producing for new mediums, such as YouTube, he stressed “I’ll find the story first, and then I’ll find the medium that allows me to tell that story the best.”

There is a noticeable confidence among the students and part of this must come from seeing each other’s work in screenings sessions. The quality, imagination, and diversity of the work on offer inspires great hope for what is to come. There is a clear desire to break new ground, and to move beyond established genres of recent Latin American cinema.

Venzuelan scriptwriter Nelson Urdaneta’s ambitious idea to develop a film dealing with the concept of time reflects a growing urge to move away from the realist trend and delve more into experimental film. Another brave student puts his hand up to venture a historical epic covering General Roca’s euphemistically named campaign of the desert. The guest directors on stage laugh given the minute budgets they had for their own films, but there is a sense of the growing possibilities available.

The international attention and acclaim Latin American cinema has attracted helps to foster this growing confidence.

Another key element of Talent Campus is the presence of European film funds, many of which – such as Hubert Bals fund and Berlin film festival’s world cinema fund – have provided key support over the past two decades.

European funds have been crucial in enabling the current generation to make films. Paz Fabrega’s ‘Agua fría de mar’ is perhaps the most international of them all, having received support from more than five funds and nearly all of those represented at Talent Campus. This is exceptional, but many have at least two foreign co-producers. The funds’ attentions remains focused on Latin America and they are now seeking to empower the next generation of film makers with their production and development capital.

Latin American cinema is clearly an international phenomenon. Talent Campus aims to develop the growing dialogue that now exists for this new generation of Latin American film makers, connected with one another and integrated into the global film-making world. While this has immense benefits, there are also worries as to how this will affect Latin American film.

Buenos Aires has one of the most cosmopolitan student populations in the world. In fact many of the invited Talents from outside Argentina study here, and all seem to be at home in this pan-American crowd. Many have also studied in Europe, and all over the world. This is perhaps the most well-integrated generation of Latin Americans ever.

(Photo: Mauricio Escobar)

But are the local voices of recent Latin American cinema, which have given it so much of its powerful honesty, condemned to shift towards more less individual voices as a result of these trends?

Ariel Rotter claims he does not think there is anything to worry about, as “making a film will always remain a deeply personal experience”. The increased travel and interconnectivity has not diminished the personal nature of the shorts these students have made, nor indeed the projects they are looking to develop.

Hugo Cataldo agrees with Rotter, saying that studying outside Paraguay has allowed him to gain a better perspective on his own country and understand it more deeply. He remains committed to telling the stories closest to him. Lina Rodriguez echoes this, as experiences outside her home country have been crucial in giving her perspective to examine through film the unique place of women inside her native Colombia.

Problems aside from shifting identities, new technology or the practicalities of funding projects, what emerges is a generation that aims to rise above theoretical debates. Venezuelan Bárbara Hertiman captured the mood of the group with her ambition to make “films with an artistic quality that anyone can relate to”, and said she truly understood what that meant after showing her short to her niece and bringing the six year old to tears. The students I met all cared passionately about making personal films that speak from their own experiences and highly developed consciousness of their continent, but that explore truths with universal resonance. If Talent Campus succeeds in empowering them to do this, the future of Latin American cinema is in good hands.

Long-lost and damaged footage (courtesy of Kino)

Searching through forgotten film reel canisters in the archives of the Museo del Cine, the film archivists Paula Félix-Didier and Fernando Peña discovered something that silent film aficionados had presumed lost forever – a nearly complete version of ‘Metropolis’, the renowned 1927 epic by German director Fritz Lang. After nine months of restoration in Germany and a tour of the European and U.S. film festival circuits, ‘The Complete Metropolis’, complete with a live orchestra, will screen here in Buenos Aires on Saturday 23rd and Sunday 24th April, and Saturday 30th April and Sunday 1st May at 5pm at Malba, Av. Figueroa Alcorta 3415.

With about 25 minutes of extra footage, this version of the film is the closest audiences have to the original ‘Metropolis’ that debuted in Berlin more than 80 years ago. After Lang’s two-and-a-half-hour cut failed to rivet German audiences, the U.S. distributor, Paramount Pictures, slashed nearly an hour of the film to try to make it more palatable to international audiences. This shorter edit was considered a butchery by cinophiles and film historians alike. Despite a 2001 restoration of the film, nearly half of the missing footage was presumed forever gone until the Buenos Aires discovery.

This longer edit of ‘Metropolis’ survived all of these years in the private collection of Manuel Peña Rodriguez, an Argentine film critic and producer.

“He [Peña Rodriguez] had a copy that we suppose came directly from the distributor of ‘Metropolis’ in Buenos Aires, this dealer named Adolfo Wilson,” said Félix-Didier, who has been the Director of the Museo del Cine since 2008. Wilson brought a lot of European, and especially German, cinema to Buenos Aires at the time.

“Wilson had a direct distribution agreement with the producer of ‘Metropolis’,” Félix-Didier continued. “The German version, the first German version – that’s really what we have now.”

Panel discussion about the discovery of the Metropolis extra footage by Paula Félix-Didier and Fernando Peña at the National Library (Photo: Ludovico)

Though it was not discovered until 2008, film reels that now compose ‘The Complete Metropolis’ had actually been in Argentine government hands since 1971, when Peña Rodriguez’s collection was donated to the Fondo Nacional de las Artes (National Endowment of the Arts) after his death. Peña Rodriguez’s films remained largely untouched, and eventually the entire collection was transferred to the Museo del Cine in 1992. And there the long-lost scenes from ‘Metropolis’ languished, until Félix-Didier became the museum’s director in 2008.

Presiding over a massive film archive that had been collecting dust for decades, Félix-Didier called fellow archivist Fernando Peña – who also happens to be her ex-husband – to come look through the canisters. Félix-Didier and Peña previously discussed a rumour that a complete version of ‘Metropolis’ might be in the archives, but they had never before had the opportunity to look.

Long-lost Metropolis film canisters (Photo courtesy of Refound Films)

“We decided to investigate Peña Rodriguez’s collection, particularly the copy of ‘Metropolis’,” Félix-Didier said. They found the reels labelled and sitting on a shelf, and they knew instantly that this version of the film was something special.

“We compared it with other existing versions, particularly the last restoration from 2001 that is on DVD, and this comparison clearly showed that our version had almost all of the missing scenes, almost a half an hour more film,” she said. “Clearly it was something significant.”

But despite the exciting nature of the content, the reels were in bad shape. Shortly after Peña Rodriguez’s collection was donated to the Fondo Nacional de las Artes, the 35-millimetre nitrate prints were converted into 16-millimetre negatives as a matter of security (cellulose nitrate is highly flammable).

“The problem of a very used copy that was shown often is that it had many marks, many spots,” Félix-Didier said of the 35-millimetre originals. Because the nitrate copy of ‘Metropolis’ was converted without being cleaned first, all of these imperfections were transferred onto the new negatives, creating a scratchy, distorted film.

The reels were eventually sent to Germany, where the extra scenes were digitally restored by the same team that worked on the film 2001 rerelease. Because of the extent of the damage, the additional scenes do not blend in perfectly with the earlier restoration. Still, film buffs were delighted by the discovery, as the additional scenes imbue a deeper meaning on the science fiction epic, which explores social unrest in a futuristic dystopia.

“The film, yes – it changes a lot [between versions],” Félix-Didier said. “Fritz Lang had a very particular way of editing, and a particular way of narrating.”

‘The Complete Metropolis’ made its debut at the Berlin Film Festival in February, and has since been shown in North American cities like San Francisco, Montreal, and Detroit. But the April screening will be its South American debut.

The Museo del Cine itself is only open to the public as a library of films at the moment. Félix-Didier hopes that the Museo del Cine will reopen with exhibitions in the near future, but first they must find a new building, moving out of the museum’s current location in the back of a postal service warehouse on a non-commercial street in Barracas.