El cine ha muerto (2022)

The last beams of light vanish into Díaz, the town I was born, located at the center-south of Santa Fe province, Argentina. It is a place of less than two thousand inhabitants, where the distance between us is always minimal. This is a place, from which I have already left, where the passing of the sun transforms light into absolute darkness. During childhood I used to go to the movie theater, which was nothing more than a projector and a screen in the middle of a club. But time filled this place crowded by moving images full of cobwebs. I go back to record this deterioration. When I told my father this aim, I discovered that he, in the 70s, together with a group of friends, carried the first projector to his hometown, as well as collaborated in the filming of a documentary. However, my father was not able to accompany me in the project, like I would have wanted: he died two months before filming began. The encounter with the family archive and the abandoned spaces of my town shape a new present. The film goes into the dimensions of memory to explore the ways in which the experience of the encounters is shaped. The beam of light from the projector cuts into the darkness of this eternal present and my father's story twists synchronically with mine again. Reframing and dismantling bring life where no longer is found. I place my body where my father used to do it. I decided to resume his story to figure out mine.