Atilio Sánchez

The life of Juan José Gorasurreta is pierced by images. In his new feature film, the historic film society programmer appropriates the films that made him in order to find new relationships and patterns and thus generate a convergence between his personal life, that of Argentina and that of cinema. In The Absences his travels coexist with Orson Welles, activism, Fernando Birrri, the Cordobazo, his studies, Eva Landeck, family, Carlos Echeverría, the Trelew Massacre, Nagisa Ōshima, censorship, film societies, the Malvinas war, his short films. The randomness of this list vanishes as the film progresses, and gives way to a synapse that is as logical as it is moving. “It is a portrait on how Argentine history and my encounter with films designed my sensitive areas” —as he did with his own story, no one could define The Absences better than Gorasurreta himself.

Isabel can’t seem to inhabit her reality. One day like so many others, she receives the visit of Ana, a friend who will help her fulfill her desire.

A documentary essay about Argentinian trans activist Maite Amaya.

A group of friends, the windows of buildings at night, Chacarita's cemetery, a road trip and tree tops are mixed together with sleepless city lights.

In 2017, 100 years after the Bolshevik Revolution, no official event was held in Russia. The central government decided to confine the memory of the Revolution to museums. In this climate of forgetfulness, some scenes detached from reality bring the past to the present. Two young roofers, Nikita and Karl, explore the city, search for historical remains and specific places, climb the roofs. In their wandering they find abandoned buildings and balconies. Katya, an apparently older woman, walks through one of the capital spaces of the revolutionary process: the Champ de Mars, in St. Petersburg. Katya tells about the February Revolution, which ended the Romanov dynasty. It recalls the post-revolutionary period and rescues the figure of one of the most interesting intellectuals and scientists of the time: Aleksandr Bogdanov, author of a utopian science fiction book called Red Star.

A portrait of the everyday life of the great Argentinian painter Remo Bianchedi. We see him in his lonely house, spending time with a friend, always working in the most absolute of isolations—an author that perseveres in secret, like a monk, removed from the art world, its advantages and its whims.

Bernardo, a 9 year-old boy, lives in the mountains with his family. One day, he meets a little girl. Then together, they discover a secret in a nearby forest.

Throughout Córdoba, Argentina, there is a wave of looting, and the police are taking several young people. In the midst of this hectic period, teenage Juliana becomes pregnant by her boyfriend, Lautaro. Juliana wants to have an abortion, but she is afraid to do it with pills and they do not have money to pay for an intervention.

On 3 November 1995, the Rio Tercero Military Factory exploded in Cordoba, prompting thousands of projectiles to fire and spread in the surrounding villages, in a tragedy that would leave seven dead and hundreds injured and affected. At the time, Natalia Garayalde was a twelve-year-old girl who lived with her family near the place, and he was still playing filming with the video camera her father had bought, when she recorded the immediate moments of the burst, while her family escaped the explosions, as well as the daily activities of the village in the days and weeks that follow. Twenty-five years later, that material captured from a girl's candid and surprised gaze it becomes a thoughtful and painful testimony about the family, the destruction of a city, the traces of horror, the sinister truth about the case.

On 3 November 1995, the Rio Tercero Military Factory exploded in Cordoba, prompting thousands of projectiles to fire and spread in the surrounding villages, in a tragedy that would leave seven dead and hundreds injured and affected. At the time, Natalia Garayalde was a twelve-year-old girl who lived with her family near the place, and he was still playing filming with the video camera her father had bought, when she recorded the immediate moments of the burst, while her family escaped the explosions, as well as the daily activities of the village in the days and weeks that follow. Twenty-five years later, that material captured from a girl's candid and surprised gaze it becomes a thoughtful and painful testimony about the family, the destruction of a city, the traces of horror, the sinister truth about the case.

The echoes of Jorge Bonino resonate in the spaces he inhabited, and his presence becomes imaginable from the stories that tell it. A body that exploded into a thousand pieces scattered across territories and affections that speak of him as someone capable of turning life into an extraordinary game.

Although she fulfills the role of perfect wife and mother, Lola is not satisfied with the fantasy of happiness during a family vacation in Mar del Plata.

A divorced taxi driver shows up with a black eye at the home of his ex-wife’s new family; he’s been invited to dinner and he desperately wants to reconnect with his young daughter. A professional magician’s car breaks down and he ends up spending an emotionally intense night with a young, widowed toll booth worker. A singer songwriter serving a lengthy prison sentence is released for one night to perform at a local community centre. These three deeply engaging stories about yearning for connection unfold in parallel, one New Year’s Eve in a small town in central Uruguay, balancing the universality of human suffering with a powerful sense of hope.

It's late morning and Franca is sleeping. Maria interrupts her, wakes her up and covers her, in an attempt to get her out of her apathy. Maria is a little drunk and excited after a long night of partying. Franca, on the other hand, is sad and going through a crisis. The two friends talk between places, about the comfort and intimacy they share, about transference, time and how life goes.