Cecilia Kang

In the ranks of the Japanese army during WWII, there existed what was known as comfort women. In the present, that term was replaced by a definition that is closer to reality—they were women who had been kidnapped and turned into sex slaves. After a long period of humiliation, the victims remained quiet, but some of them built up the courage to write about their ordeals in a series of letters. Cecilia Kang’s new documentary recovers those testimonies in order to talk about the way in which History and social mandates affect the lives of Korean women in Argentina, from the perspective of a young acting student who, after coming into contact with this correspondence, allows herself to reflect on the community she lives in and understand more about the traditions of her people as well as her own family history.

In the ranks of the Japanese army during WWII, there existed what was known as comfort women. In the present, that term was replaced by a definition that is closer to reality—they were women who had been kidnapped and turned into sex slaves. After a long period of humiliation, the victims remained quiet, but some of them built up the courage to write about their ordeals in a series of letters. Cecilia Kang’s new documentary recovers those testimonies in order to talk about the way in which History and social mandates affect the lives of Korean women in Argentina, from the perspective of a young acting student who, after coming into contact with this correspondence, allows herself to reflect on the community she lives in and understand more about the traditions of her people as well as her own family history.

Cecilia is too afraid one night to let her housekeeper’s son into the house. The next day his dead body is found.

In the middle of a mysterious insomnia epidemic that slowly takes on catastrophic dimensions, Laura (39) and Augusto (42) flee the city in their motorhome to get away from the chaos. As they move down the route, the world becomes an increasingly strange and dangerous place. Finally, Laura reveals a story that changes everything. The road is depopulating, the silence grows and it is increasingly difficult to differentiate the reality from the dream.

Lila is a young filmmaker struggling to write her next project. She spends all day in the house and excels at procrastination. One day her boyfriend returns with a new bicycle lock, a gift from another woman, and this triggers a reaction from Lila. A humorous take on creativity and obsession.

Lila is a young filmmaker struggling to write her next project. She spends all day in the house and excels at procrastination. One day her boyfriend returns with a new bicycle lock, a gift from another woman, and this triggers a reaction from Lila. A humorous take on creativity and obsession.

Solitary and sometimes attacked by an asthmatic crisis, Roque Waterfall leads, at age 30, an unproductive life and, little or nothing at work, lives on a small family inheritance. His passion is to collect videos of Atlanta, the club of his loves, and in one of his few nocturnal outings he meets Hans, a German intellectual nihilist who is in Buenos Aires to make a documentary film about people who have nothing. But when he meets Roque he decides that his film will be about someone who does not do anything, of course he is not sure if he wants to show himself before the camera, and while trying to escape the director he meets Carla, whose charm stimulates him to interrupt his sedentary life .

There are many films piercing through Cecilia King’s first feature; there’s a film about a family (her sister, her mother, her aunt, her grandmother)… There’s also one about being an Argentinian woman of Korean descent visiting Korea. And another one about being a Korean woman who, at the same time, acts like someone from Buenos Aires. There’s family love, friendship, the small tragedies and the great ones, emancipation, heartbreak, creativity. And none of these storylines drives us to a feeling of drift; they are parts of a mosaic that is pieced together in the viewer’s head thanks to a solid, strongly emotional core: the life of the director, who, in a spontaneous and loving display of generosity, dedicates My Last Failure to (in this order) a teacher from childhood, her eternal friends and her sister.

There are many films piercing through Cecilia King’s first feature; there’s a film about a family (her sister, her mother, her aunt, her grandmother)… There’s also one about being an Argentinian woman of Korean descent visiting Korea. And another one about being a Korean woman who, at the same time, acts like someone from Buenos Aires. There’s family love, friendship, the small tragedies and the great ones, emancipation, heartbreak, creativity. And none of these storylines drives us to a feeling of drift; they are parts of a mosaic that is pieced together in the viewer’s head thanks to a solid, strongly emotional core: the life of the director, who, in a spontaneous and loving display of generosity, dedicates My Last Failure to (in this order) a teacher from childhood, her eternal friends and her sister.

Rocío can’t handle the idea of separating from her best friend, who’s about to move and change schools. Her pain and frustration translate into spite until the increasing tension between them becomes irreversible when they clash in a duel at the arcade where they meet every afternoon.

Rocío can’t handle the idea of separating from her best friend, who’s about to move and change schools. Her pain and frustration translate into spite until the increasing tension between them becomes irreversible when they clash in a duel at the arcade where they meet every afternoon.