Three women meet by chance at the end of the world, in Argentinian Patagonia, and set out on a polyamorous journey, caught up in the search for new kinds of relationships, far from possession and pain. They become the Daughters of Fire, a band dedicated to helping those women who look for their own path to erotica.
It is no coincidence that the second feature by Argentinian Melisa Liebenthal begins with a quote from “Duino Elegies” by Rilke, who was concerned with existential angst. And, more prosaically, Marina, the film’s young protagonist, is faced with similar anxiety. In fact, her problem is her face. One morning, she discovers her face has changed, and she can no longer recognise herself. Not even her mother can, who bumps into her on the street and says hello to her like she would to any stranger (deadpan, surreal humor is part of the film’s recipe). Marina is thus forced to confront her identity: who is she? Is she determined by her parent’s DNA or by her ID card? Can she be identified by a family portrait, by biometrics or the love of those around her, including her Colombian boyfriend? Is she prettier now?
Antonio wanders the streets of Buenos Aires in search of money and sex. The magnetism he exerts on the people who cross his path allows him to steal and cheat them. Only his mother, with whom he has a confictual relationship, will get over his feeling of impunity and will push him to leave for a trip to the south of Argentina.
A sunny morning in Buenos Aires. All seems quiet, but then an odd race begins: a variety of people are after a backpack. A little army of seekers surprises us at every corner. Suddenly, a lonely bureaucrat (Mapache) is involved in this adventure, and new, mysterious and unknown people start to populate his life, all running around the popular Argentinian city to obtain the backpack which seems to be crucial to his own fate, according to the words of his new accomplice, magician and tarot reader Luminitsia.
Flora Schvartzman is a ninety year-old single woman who has wanted to die since the day she was born. Distanced from her family, she gets in touch with them to organize her own death. Iair, her great-nephew, is the first one to take an interest in her and her heirless apartment.
Three films reflecting upon the way in which image and speech control relate to one another. Dallas is a Fire exposes the racist speech in the archives of the Dallas TV in 1970. Sent to Lie investigates the surveillance methods applied to the Qom indigenous community with the argument of preventing COVID-19. In Non-Stop, there’s an attempt to build over history and beyond the inaccessible images
An intimate, amiable and yet unforgettable symphony of the life of every country town in the world in several vignettes – even if this focuses on Colón, a couple of hours north of Buenos Aires. Both lyrical and modest.
Dogs. With them there is always more than meets the eye. Ask Lionel Falcon. He knows a thing or two about dogs. He’s a photographer, but not your average one. Lionel is in a very particular line of work. He photographs dogs for a living. And he takes his job seriously. Photo shoots and photo calls. But leave it to Lionel: he always comes up with a new idea that makes both owner and dog extremely happy. Devoted to the idea that you need to be a professional no matter what you do, he always doublechecks his settings, the lights, and his work tools. Everything is under control, because every dog has its day and obviously Lionel needs to have his dogs.
