Virginia Scaro

Helena and Kira argue on the side of the road. There is no destination in mind, there is no plan to follow. The journey unfolds kilometer by kilometer, a journey that soon becomes a ritual.

Buildings are not supposed to move. But on Avenida Libertador 2050, a building moves and the ceiling shivers, causing a strange nausea that devours its residents. Those who live on the top are afraid they’ll fall, the ones who live beneath are afraid they’ll drown.

A woman confines herself to her apartment and to a daily routine that keeps her sane, but a brief encounter with the outside world threatens to dismantle her meticulously maintained refuge.

A woman confines herself to her apartment and to a daily routine that keeps her sane, but a brief encounter with the outside world threatens to dismantle her meticulously maintained refuge.

For Ababacar and Mbaye - two Senegalese immigrants who met and established a great friendship in Buenos Aires - the challenge goes beyond adapting to the customs and living conditions in Argentina, or dealing with the indifference and racism they suffer on a daily basis: both came to an instance of their lives in which they must define a course, and in turn accept that their identities and needs have become more complex. The decision to leave their country was driven by the urgent objective of financially supporting their families, but the stay in Buenos Aires crossed them with new people, new ways of seeing things, and even an economic situation different from that which they found at home. Their different ways of seeing things allow them to see in each other a different version of themselves.

A filmmaker meets her ex-boyfriend, who plays a role in her new film, in which the authenticity or falsity of a kiss in a gay scene is debated, with backstage included. Metacine or metagay? Gay cinema within cinema or cinema within gay cinema, variations of a daedalus of representations. "The current boyfriend" feeds on lateral humor, on the political of desire as a talk in the kitchen, on the flicker-free observation of who we are and what we pretend to be, as a nucleus that is reinterpreted with always different gestures, once as drama and another like comedy, almost without knowing which is appropriate.