The Venezuelan-born maker edited shots of friends, of wanderings around the city of Barcelona where he lives and the journey to his chaotic, colourful native country into a complex film. An intimate travel diary film, but also as absurd and miraculous as a painting by Hieronymous Bosch.
A fragmentary and associative diary and travel essay, loosely based on Heronimus Bosch. When an accident during filming means he is bed-bound, Andrés Duque starts digging in his archives. These are not film reels or videotapes, but digital ones and zeros on his hard disk: pictures of his friends in Spain, strolls through Barcelona and a journey back to his home country of Venezuela.
The images are real and, according to an opening title, ‘ordered and shown in all honesty’. But, the maker warns immediately afterwards, ‘it’s not the truth’.
Duque stirs up the narrative by omission, suggestion and manipulation. And he comments on the whole thing with reflections in subtitles about life and everyday reality in Spain. ‘It’s my life in these images,’ Duque argues, ‘and this is the most honest way to show it.’ –IFFR
Tan sencilla como compleja, particularmente me gustaron esos audios dispares con la imagen, como un subtexto que termina relacionándose de una u otra forma. Hay cosas tan íntimas que resulta hasta voyeurista analizar, pero que no se pueden ignorar por su alta carga poética. He de decir que lo de A. Caicedo me pareció inconexo, pero no es tan grave. El final y la historia de Román me conmovieron. Felicitaciones.
