El cine ha muerto

During childhood, I frequently attended my hometown movie theater, which was nothing more than a projector and screen in the middle of a club. But time filled this space inhabited by moving images with cobwebs. I return to Díaz to register this decadence. When I told my father about this objective, I found out that he, together with a group of friends in the 70s, brought the first projector to the city, as well as collaborating in the filming of a documentary. But my father could not accompany me on the project, as was my intention: he passed away two months before the start of shooting.

The film delves into the dimensions of memory to explore the ways in which the experience of encounters is configured. The beam of light from the projector breaks through the darkness of this eternal present and my dad’s story spins again in sync with mine. Reframing and disassembling bring life where there is none.