Article by: Marco Bellani
Translation by: Andreea Catana, Francesca Sala
Showing up at a film festival with a film without plot and actors, it is the leap of a fish outside water or the hazard of who knows how to swim upstream.
But shifting the focus from what it has not got to what it brings, Guillermina Pico’s operation put on a video-artistic collage of shootings with a hand-held camera of a common life. Uninteresting virtuous in the creation of a system of recognizable characters, narrative models and logical links in which the audience could get comfortable – so apparently unconcerned of the basics – the Argentinian director interchanges the rhymes of one of her poems (the title comes from the first line) with totally random framings. Horses grazing in the Pampas of South America; conversations among friends or family; intimate dances in the bedroom; a girl who scans the surrounding nature using a recorder. Then piano lessons and travels, a lot of travels, by car, by train, by cab, in a world that keeps getting harder to understand for those who want to put everything together, to weave the strings of the web. Someone could say to be able to make the last “Pollock” by Mrs Pico, yet no one does it and gets out angry of the theatre. Betrayed. After all, we were expecting a movie about love.