Julián Tello
The sad story of Andersen's little match girl; the fate of Balthazar, Bresson's donkey; the impossible love affair between a militant of the Red Army Faction and an Argentinean pianist; the adventures in Buenos Aires of Helmut Lachenmann, who is trying to stage an insane opera; the problems of Marie, Walter and their daughter, who are trying to survive on very little money…
I swear to you that this that I am going to tell is absolutely true: a daring sparrow, a girl who smokes cigarettes, a forest and Julián, in January in Buenos Aires.
Film in two cities divided by one river: Buenos Aires, Montevideo. Two cities divided by one story: the death of Francisco. One death divided in two parts: an investigation, an escape.
When a young woman wins a radio contest, her prize is four days in a hotel in Ostende, a seaside town by the Atlantic coast in the province of Buenos Aires. Only it’s not high season, so the beach proves blustery, the hotel is pretty much empty and she doesn’t have much to do while she waits for her boyfriend to join her. So she listens to the stories of a friendly local waiter and watches the comings and goings of an older man and the two women who appear to be with him.
Marina, Sofia and Violeta deal differently with the death of their grandmother.
A group of girls and boys in their twenties settle in a country house that seems completely isolated from civilization. One of them writes a novel while the others try to become a gang and prepare a robbery; some fall in love, or seem to be, or believe (or say) they are in love. But these two, three, ten plot lines unfold from what the characters hide or just don’t know, connecting the writing of the novel and the forming of the gang, and the past of two of the characters with that of the house, and of those who perhaps were the two most bitter enemies of nineteenth century Argentine history.
On the banks of the city of Buenos Aires, among the rubble that forms the coast of her ecological reserve, she listens attentively to the confession. The rest, what follows, will be mere inconveniences and questions between a corpse and a double bass, between the imperfect city and its river, which will sow doubt about the resistance of its revenge.