Federico Cardone

A teacher with a blank notebook -the great Liliana Bodoc- arrives at a school in the middle of the desert behind the trail of the Huarpes. As in her books, Bodoc speaks to the children frankly about important things—water, the wind, death. Although, rather than speaking to them, she asks them—she looks into their stories and invites them to give shape to their ideas. But Lagunas is not exactly a documentary about Liliana Bodoc; it’s about lots of things—about the ghosts that inhabit a territory, about the bridges between generations, about memory. In Lagunas there are curious children, there are teachers and shamans, there are bodies buried in the sand, there is a culture and a language that refuse to become extinct. There is a filmmaker who, as he records, asks himself about his memories and about the memories he is leaving to his children. And there is also a writer who proves that in order to write, first you have to know how to listen.

A teacher with a blank notebook -the great Liliana Bodoc- arrives at a school in the middle of the desert behind the trail of the Huarpes. As in her books, Bodoc speaks to the children frankly about important things—water, the wind, death. Although, rather than speaking to them, she asks them—she looks into their stories and invites them to give shape to their ideas. But Lagunas is not exactly a documentary about Liliana Bodoc; it’s about lots of things—about the ghosts that inhabit a territory, about the bridges between generations, about memory. In Lagunas there are curious children, there are teachers and shamans, there are bodies buried in the sand, there is a culture and a language that refuse to become extinct. There is a filmmaker who, as he records, asks himself about his memories and about the memories he is leaving to his children. And there is also a writer who proves that in order to write, first you have to know how to listen.

A teacher with a blank notebook -the great Liliana Bodoc- arrives at a school in the middle of the desert behind the trail of the Huarpes. As in her books, Bodoc speaks to the children frankly about important things—water, the wind, death. Although, rather than speaking to them, she asks them—she looks into their stories and invites them to give shape to their ideas. But Lagunas is not exactly a documentary about Liliana Bodoc; it’s about lots of things—about the ghosts that inhabit a territory, about the bridges between generations, about memory. In Lagunas there are curious children, there are teachers and shamans, there are bodies buried in the sand, there is a culture and a language that refuse to become extinct. There is a filmmaker who, as he records, asks himself about his memories and about the memories he is leaving to his children. And there is also a writer who proves that in order to write, first you have to know how to listen.

A teacher with a blank notebook -the great Liliana Bodoc- arrives at a school in the middle of the desert behind the trail of the Huarpes. As in her books, Bodoc speaks to the children frankly about important things—water, the wind, death. Although, rather than speaking to them, she asks them—she looks into their stories and invites them to give shape to their ideas. But Lagunas is not exactly a documentary about Liliana Bodoc; it’s about lots of things—about the ghosts that inhabit a territory, about the bridges between generations, about memory. In Lagunas there are curious children, there are teachers and shamans, there are bodies buried in the sand, there is a culture and a language that refuse to become extinct. There is a filmmaker who, as he records, asks himself about his memories and about the memories he is leaving to his children. And there is also a writer who proves that in order to write, first you have to know how to listen.

Three decades later, the San Juan Civic Center construction project is back on track and, as if nothing had happened, the bureaucratic machinery seems to be united with the cranes and the human force and the megalomaniac desire that such an undertaking supposes. There, in that interruption and that return to activity, in the pharaonic recovery of lost dreams and projects that suddenly come back to life –as if they were architectural zombies–, there Mariano Donoso sees a movie.