Flor de Durazno (1917)

Considered the most important figure in the history of Tango, singer and songwriter Carlos Gardel took the culture of Argentinian Tango across the world, becoming one of the most famous latin american artists at the time of his tragic death (in a plane crash). Of French origin, Gardel spent his childhood at the neighborhood of Abasto, in the city of Buenos Aires, where he began to develop a singing style working at bars and singing at private parties. In 1917, the young Carlos Gardel would make his first recordings, beginning the brilliant career that would take make him internationally famous. Two assets of great importance in the young singer's early success were his great presence and his natural charm, which didn't go unnoticed by the film industry, and that very same year the rising Tango star saw himself debuting in the silver screen. The title of the film would be "Flor de Durazno", an adaptation of the popular novel of the same name, written by Gustavo Adolfo Martínez Zuviría, better known as Hugo Wast. And while the film became a huge box office success, it is far from being the best film in Gardel's career.

"Flor de Durazno" (literally "Peach Flower") is the story of Rina (Ilde Pirovano), a young woman living with her father Germán (Diego Figueroa) in their little farm. Her cousin Fabián (Carlos Gardel) is in love with her, but the young lady has a preference for the young Miguel Benavides (Argentino Gómez), heir of a rich plantation. In time, they grow old, and Fabián manages to conquer Rina's heart, who finally agrees to marry him. Unfortunately, a war forces Fabián to enlist in the army, and so the couple postpones the wedding until Fabián returns. Miguel, now the owner of the Benavides ranch, takes advantage of this to get closer to Rina, using his knowledge and financial position to earn German's trust, as the farmer gets involved in a legal dispute and sees in Miguel a trustworthy advisor. Being now a regular visitor to Germán's farm and with Fabián away, Miguel finds his way to seduce Rina, who ends up pregnant. When Miguel refuses to marry Rina, considering her of a lower social class, she decides to runaway to the capital, where she'll endure misery being alone and poor.

Written and directed by Francisco Defilippis Novoa, "Flor de Durazno" follows with relative faithfulness the plot of Hugo Wast's popular novel, a naturalist melodrama that portrayed the social injustices in the Argentinian countryside. This kind of stories had already found a great success in Argentinian cinema, as proved the classic "Nobleza Gaucha" (1915), film that like Defilippis' movie, took as starting point the conflict between a rich rancher and a humble yet noble gaucho. "Flor de Durazno" follows to the letter this formula, with the humble farmer Rina suffering with stoicism the multiple abuses and humiliations from the wealthy class, having as driving force the undying love she feels for her little daughter. But despite the social theme, the film is pretty conservative, as Rina sees her constant suffering at the city as a penance for the grave sin of falling for Miguel and forgetting Fabián's love, specially since the noble young man remembers her in every trip. The simple plot of "Flor de Durazno" upholds the idea of modern cities as nests of perversion, while the countryside represents purity.

As a film, "Flor de Durazno"'s main characteristic is the simplicity of director Francisco Defilippis Novoa's take on the story, and the agile rhythm in which the story unfolds. Taking full advantage of the natural locations (and the effective work of cinematographer Francisco Mayrhoffer), Defillipis Novoa makes a bucolic portrait of the Argentinian countryside, which is presented as a tranquil place where life is simpler. In contrast, the city is presented as a dirt and chaotic place, where evil hides in every corner and is ready to prey on the dispossessed. Despite the profound simplicity of Defilippis Novoa's use of the camera, there are interesting moments in which the plot turns to Fabián, who sings to remember his land and his beloved Rina. Those moments (that probably where accompanied by a recording of Carlos Gardel's songs) are used by Defilippis to become more lyrical and poetic, moving to the subjectivity of the character's emotions. In his same way, Defilippis occasionally uses cinematic resources like double exposure to illustrate the memories and emotions of his characters.

Without a doubt, the main attraction in "Flor de Durazno" is to watch the debut of Carlos Gardel as a film star but, unfortunately, this first venture of the "Zorzal Criollo" in the film industry leaves a lot to be desired. For starters, silent cinema may not be the best way for a singer to shine (there are rumors of a disappointed Carlos Gardel storming out of the set), and on top of that, his character has pretty much a secondary role during most of the film, as the real star of "Flor de Durazno" is Ilde Pirovano. As Rina, Pirovano carries entirely the weight of the film, and truly makes a commendable job at it, as the young actress moves away from the silent cinema conventions and delivers a more naturalistic performance. The whole opposite is Argentino Gómez' work as Miguel Benavides, who looks terribly hammy in his delivery and makes a caricature of the wealthy villain archetype. The same could be said of the rest of the cast, as the constant through the film is the stagy style of film's early days. Perhaps the only exception (besides Ilde Pirovano) is Diego Figueroa, who manages to give dignity to the role of Germán Castillo.

While the acting isn't really the film's strongest point, of little help is the fact that the screenplay is of an exaggerated simplicity in its development, as the characters are in general a mere collection of classic genre archetypes: the unfortunate victim, her strict father, the wealthy rancher, the wise priest and last but not least, the noble gaucho. Very little is done to develop those personalities in a dramatic way, and director Francisco Defilippis merely focus his efforts in capturing the atmosphere of the story and telling the tale the most efficient way he can. This leaves "Flor de Durazno" as a missed opportunity, that even when it could had served as an exploration of social injustice, ends up as an easy and simple naturalist melodrama where once again the evil rich man abuses of the poor. Of course, a lot of this comes from the very source novel in which the film is based on, as Hugo Wast's novel already carries this and other flaws; but given the novel's commercial success, probably Deiflippis decided to make as little changes as possible to such successful formula.

Like the novel that originated it, "Flor de Durazno" became a huge box office success; however, as mention before Carlos Gardel wasn't too happy with the results. Carlos Gardel would remain focuses on his musical career for more than a decade before trying his hand again in the film industry, as this return would only tai enlace until 1930, when director Eduardo Morera invited him to collaborate in a series of musical short films. Naturally, sound in films was already a reality and that was Gardel's real start as a movie star (silent cinema wasn't the most appropriate way to showcase the talents of Gardel). Despite having some interesting elements, "Flor de Durazno" fails to rise above being a simple rural melodrama. A free adaptation of the novel would be done in Mexico in 1945, this time with Esther Fernández in the role of Rina.

5/10

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Nueve reinas (2000)

The abrupt end of a life is always a tragedy, particularly in young people, as it leaves the question of what would they do if they were alive. In the case of an artist, this is specially meaningful, even more if the deceased artist was just beginning to get recognition. This is the unfortunate case of Argentine filmmaker Fabián Bielinsky, whom after having made two critically acclaimed movies, died on his sleep from a heart attack, at only 47 years of age. A testament of his talent is the fact that in only two films, Bielinsky managed to develop a distinctive style of his own, different to anything found in the cinema of Argentina at the time. The first and most popular of his two films, "Nueve reinas" ("Nine Queens"), was a crime thriller with a quite particular tone of comedy and irony that ended up winning multiple awards both in its native country and abroad. And not without a reason, as "Nueve reinas"' careful construction truly shows what a real loss was Bielinsky's death.

"Nueve reinas" opens in a small convenience store where Juan (Gastón Pauls), a young con artist, successfully scams the cashier, only to be trapped while trying to perform the same trick twice. Marcos (Ricardo Darín) pretends to be a police officer and takes Juan away. On an alley, Marcos explains to a surprised Juan that he is not an officer, but also another con man. Marcos offers Juan the chance to be his partner for a day, and while Juan is reluctant at first, he accepts as he needs to raise money to help his father in jail. After several successful cons, Marcos receives the call from a former associate, Sandler (Oscar Nuñez), whom asks Marcos help in a rare scheme: Sandler has made perfect counterfeit copies of a rare set of stamps called "The Nine Queens", and was trying to sell them to a rich Spaniard (Ignasi Abadal) who is being deported the following day (therefore unable to check the stamps' authenticity). Sandler was unable to do it alone because of his health, so the pair decides to enter the scheme.

Intelligent, witty, and with a good dose of humor, "Nueve reinas" is a solid thriller in which director Fabián Bielinsky (who also wrote the screenplay) plays with the caper film genre to deliver and entertaining tale of two con men. As the film unfolds, Bielinsky increases the stakes, putting his characters in even more complicated situations with every new plot twist. Nevertheless, while certainly the clever plot that Bielinsky crafts is quite thrilling, but in the most Hitchcocknian fashion, the Nine Queens scam is merely a MacGuffin, as the real magic in "Nueve reinas" comes from the way in which he he has developed the two main characters and their relationship. Particularly since both men are con artists, so trust won't become easily a bargaining chip in the deals between them. However, necessity and casualty has brought them together, the experienced master and the young talent, to take their chances and pull off this ultimate scam.

While certainly Bielinsky's ingenious screenplay is marvelous, his talent as a director is well worthy of recognition too, as he crafts his film with a simple but slick style that suits nicely the casual tone of the film. With a certain grace and elegance, Bielinsky lets the film's plot to unfold smoothly, embracing the audience in its captivating spell, not unlike the scams his characters perform, functioning like a precise clockwork with the perfect timing, the perfect tone. While working with a quite low budget, Bielinsky gives his film a well defined visual style, a bit traditional perhaps yet very attractive. Cinematographer Marcelo Camorino captures the urban setting with an elegant beauty, his camera getting deeply into the streets that make the characters' natural environment. Nevertheless, Bielinsky doesn't use any flamboyant visual style, knowing (like Mamet) that the strength of his movie is in the language the characters talk.

So, given that the screenplay what matters, the actors reciting the lines are of key importance for the success of the film. And fortunately, the acting is one of the strongest elements in "Nueve reinas". Leading the cast as the talented but unexperienced Juan, Gastón Pauls shows a natural charm in his performance, playing the role of the young apprentice with great verisimilitude. However, "Nueve reinas" belongs to the masterful performance of Ricardo Darín, who plays Marcos. As the smooth-talking con man Marcos, Darín commands the screen with power, showing he is a resourceful actor skilled at creating multidimensional characters. Because no matter how good a script is, a bad actor could had ended up making the role looking like the stereotype it may be. A talented one, like Darín, embodies the character and delivers a real person out of it. The rest of the cast, while having much less screen time than Pauls and Darín, they all deliver effective performances, particularly Leticia Bréndice, who plays Marcos' sister Valeria.

Bu the real star of "Nueve reinas" is without a doubt its director, Fabián Bielinsky, who showcases his talent for storytelling by weaving his tale with great skill. While the plot is relatively simple (the afore mentioned Mamet has produced stories of greater complexity), the way Bielinsky has transformed it into a puzzling tale is just captivating. "Nueve reinas" is a masterful example of how to flesh out a story. By adding the necessary amount of detail to make it interesting and unique, Bielinsky has built up his caper thriller with the same care he would stage a confidence trick: with the perfect timing and the appropriate tone, the adequate rhythm and the right cadence. There are few things that go wrong in "Nueve reinas", as every element plays its role in the puzzle to great effect. Perhaps there's a moment in which the absurdity of the cons is a bit too much, but the dry, deadpan humor that Bielinsky employs keep everything in the right mood.

Sly, ingenious, and owner of a delicious dark humor, "Nueve reinas" showed the talent of a filmmaker that, without any great pretensions, managed to create an entertaining thriller with intelligence and wit. Because it's this intelligence what separates "Nueve reinas" from similar yet banal thrillers, as it allows the film to unfold its story with a style that few have. After "Nueve reinas", Bielinsky was offered the chance of making an American remake, opportunity he refused in order to make "El Aura". The remake, titled "Criminal" was still produced with Gregory Jacobs at the helm. Sadly, Bielinsky died just when his career was on the rise. Watching the triumph that is "Nueve reinas" makes one realize just what a great loss for cinema was Bielinsky's untimely death.

9/10
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Yira, yira (1930)

Certainly, one of the greatest figures of Argentina is without a doubt singer, songwriter and actor Carlos Gardel. The most prominent figure in the history of Tango revolutionized the culture of his time that despite having died tragically at the height of his career (in a plane crash), his name is the one most often associated with the culture and music of Argentina. Born in 1890, Gardel arrived to Buenos Aires at a very young age, and grew up in the Abasto neighborhood. Like many singers of his time, Gardel began his career working at bars, but soon his singing talent and charming look took him to the studio to make recordings in 1917. That very same year cinema found Gardel, and his talent made its way into the film "Flor de Durazno". Naturally, Gardel's career on cinema didn't make much progress in the silent era, so he focused on singing. However, by 1930 sound in film was now a reality, and so Gardel and cinema met again, in an early series of musical short films directed by sound pioneer Eduardo Morera.

"Yira, yira" (often known in English as "Go round... and round...") is one of those musical shorts, which basically consisted in an introduction to the song and then the execution of the song by Gardel himself. In the case of "Yira, yira", the introduction is done by Gardel and the song composer, the legendary Enrique Santos Discépolo (at the time a young 29 years old man), with Gardel asking Enrique Santos about the meaning of the song. Enrique explains Carlos that the song is about despair, hopelessness and loneliness; to which Carlos answers surprised that such is the feeling he had received from the song. Enrique praises Gardel's singing, though Carlos wonders with a little naiveté if the song's main character is a good man despite the brooding tone. Enrique makes a joke about it, which Carlos doesn't seem to catch at first, though he later does and both men laugh. The film then cuts to Gardel's interpretation of Santos Discépolo's "Yira, yira", with a musical group.

As in most of Morera's shorts, the centerpiece of the film is Gardel's singing "Yira, yira", however, the introductions to the songs, while probably scripted by Morera or Gardel, give a glimpse of the magnetic personality that the famous singer had. In the case of "Yira, yira", the introduction is twice interesting as it showcases Enrique Santos Discépolo, the composer of this popular tango. Whether the dialogs recited were scripted or are in fact improvised is sadly not known, though two things can be noted in the film: the great camaraderie and respect between both artists, and the natural charm and ease in front of the camera that Gardel displays. It's clear that both Morera and Gardel understood very well the possibilities of the film, and thus the image of the singer is carefully detailed in the brief introduction. Gardel is shown as a humble singer, respectful of the composer, and owner of a child-like curiosity. The fact that Morera makes the joke be on Gardel is part of this: Gardel owns the spotlight, but he shares it willingly with his friends. With his people.

Now, the interpretation Gardel makes of "Yira, yira" is one of his best, capturing in his performance the very same feeling of despair and loneliness that Enrique Santos Disépolo was explaining in the introduction. The touch of irony that the song has is not lost, though perhaps a bit diminished by Gardel's strongly melancholic performance, which adds a bit of optimism to the song. Tango singing (specially of Gardel's time) often requires a bit of dramatic emphasis on the voice, not only because of its common themes of loneliness and lost love, but also because of its very rhythm. In this aspect, Gardel delivers a masterful performance, and "Yira, yira" proves that Morera wasn't wrong when he decided that no matter what may had happened in the failed experience of "Flor de Durazon", Carlos Gardel was truly worthy material for cinema. In the introduction, Carlos Gardel wonders if the character is a good man. In his performance, it's clear that when Gardel sings it, the brooding main character is a good man indeed.

As expected from an early experiment in sound film, Morera's set up is fairly basic, with cinematographer Antonio Merayo framing both scenes (introduction and performance) in a simple yet effective manner. Certainly, Merayo's work is much more interesting when Gardel is singing, though that's perhaps the result of a directorial decision rather than a flaw on Merayo's side. "Yira, yira", along nine other of Morera's short films were later compiled in 1931 to form a longer movie called "Diez canciones de Gardel" or "Encuadre de canciones" (literally "Ten songs by Gardel" or "Assortment of songs"); however, Morera's shorts work much better on their own, as they were intended to be. In this aspect, Morera's Gardel shorts can be seen as precursors of modern music videos. Given the quality of Gardel's performance, and the fact that Morera's succeeded in what he was set to achieve (to prove Gardel could be a major film star), it can be said that his humble experimental short films more than fulfilled its goal.

10/10
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El Hombre Bestia (1934)

Despite being a country that quickly adopted cinema as an art form, Argentina's filmmakers weren't too keen of venturing into the fantastic genres, and the themes of Argentine cinema remained based on the country's literary tradition. Comedy and drama derived from theater were the prominent genres of the silent era, and the arrival of sound didn't do much to change this, as it only meant that Argentina's rich musical culture would finally be translated to the screen. However, one man decided that Argentina could also produce fantastic stories, and in the early 30s began to produce what would become as Argentina's first horror film. That man was journalist Camilo Zaccaría Soprani, and the film was titled "El Hombre Bestia", an independent production done without money or talent, but perhaps with lots of passion. The film was presumed lost for almost 70 years, until it was finally found and released again in the year 2002. While it's good to see it again, this may be a case of a film whose historical importance is greater than its artistic value.

The story of "El Homre Bestia" (literally "The Beast Man") begins with Captain Richard (Saverio Yaquinto), a brave pilot during World War I, whom is forced to land in the jungle, crashing his plane. The captain survives, but is unable to return, and uses his survival skills to live in the jungle, when he becomes more and more savage as years go by, eventually transforming Richard into a feral man not too different from Tarzan. Twelve years after his plane crashed, fate plays on Richard's favor and another plane lands in the island. The savage Richard murders the pilot and uses the plane to return to civilization, however, loss of fuel forces him to land in the house of the strange Dr. Marchessi (Raúl D'Angeli). Now, Richard immediately captures the attention of Dr. Marchessi, who becomes interested in his beastly traits and manages to inject an experimental formula in the unsuspecting Richard. The formula transforms Richard into a crazed monster driven by lust, and begins to kidnap beautiful young ladies.

The screenplay, by C. Z. Soprani himself, is basically a collection of the many bizarre adventures that captain Richard endures, from his days as a pilot to his survival in the jungle, and later to his dealing with Dr. Marchessi and the manhunt that the families of the kidnapped girls organize to stop him. In fact, a lot of things happen in the barely 50 minutes of runtime the film has, clearly an indicator of Soprani's desire of creating a tale of action and adventure that had a bit of everything. Unfortunately, it all feels forced and contrived due to the poor organization the story has. And so, the tone and mood of the movie varies in every segment, as it initially begins as a tale of adventure which soon becomes a strange horror film as the story unfolds. In fact, Richard himself goes from being the film's apparent protagonist (the film often bears a subtitle translated as "The Adventures of Captain Richard"), to transform into essentially one of the villains, as Dr. Manchessi's formula makes him even more savage.

Like Carl Theodor Dreyer's classic "Vampyr", Soprani's "El Hombre Bestia" is somewhat of an hybrid of a silent film and talkie, with some scenes having intertitles and texts to follow the plot, while others have the recorded audio of the dialogs. However, unlike Dreyer's surreal tale of vampirism, in Soprani's film this is done without real care, and instead of looking more like a mere budgetary decision than like a purely artistic choice. And looking the film, it seems like budget was behind most of Soprani's directorial decisions, as it seems like many different scenes where done in the same locations, and Soprani shows a taste for borrowing archival footage for the most complicated scenes. Soprani's visual style feels closer to silent cinema than to the kind of filmmaking that was being done in the early 1930s, and the cramming of the many adventures of captain Richard is done without real care or sense of pacing, resulting in a tacky narrative that seems disjointed and even incoherent at times.

Acting in "El Hombre Bestia" is pretty poor, which given the lack of experience of the performers may be understandable. Like the whole visual style of the film, the acting also feels more at home in a silent film, even in the scenes where there's sound. Saverio Yaquinto, who plays captain Richard, isn't really that bad, playing efficiently the stereotype character of the feral man so often seen in many silent films about jungle adventures. Certainly he seems hammy in his role, though in his case this is more likely the result of a pretty poor direction, as his role becomes merely physical, and limited to performing stunts. The real problems begin with the actors not playing a silent feral man, which would mean everyone else, as they are all wooden at best, and atrocious at worst. Raúl D'Angeli, who plays the evil Dr. Marchessi is perhaps the worst offender, delivering a truly uninspired performance. Nevertheless, all things aside, in the end it all comes down to C. Z. Soprani's terrible job as a director.

Certainly, "El Hombre Bestia" is plagued with problems that make its enjoyment somewhat difficult. For starters, it's bizarre plot that includes almost every element from American adventure serials (war scenes, jungle peril, mad scientist, monster on the loose, detectives, and the list goes on) all crammed in about 50 minutes of footage, is something to consider. Without regards for logic or coherence, the story moves from episode to episode moved by weird circumstances that truly defies the strongest suspension of disbelief. Even for its time, it's a great leap to think of "El Hombre Bestia" seriously, which leads to the other problem the film faces: for a 1934 production, it feels more than antiquated, it's certainly archaic. Beyond the fact that its an hybrid of a silent film and a talkie, its plot sounds like something from the early years of silent cinema, where everything was new and unexplored. While certainly its low budget is behind many of its problems, it's not a valid justification for most of the many illogical things that take place in the film.

Probably when Camilo Zaccaría Soprani decided to make "El Hombre Bestia" he hoped it could rival with the popular American serials. It's definitely the style of film he attempts to reproduce in his movie, but sadly his ambitious were way beyond his skills. Still, the passion and love for the genre that Soprani had, can really be felt through its mish mash of outrageously weird scenes. The first horror film made in Argentina, "El Hombre Bestia", failed to find an audience and was quickly lost in time. It would take eight more years until Argentina could release its first masterpiece of horror (Manuel Romero's "Una Luz en la Ventana"). As a historical film, "El Hombre Bestia" is invaluable, as the action/horror film it wanted to be, it's pretty forgettable.

4/10
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Petróleo (1936)

During the first half of the 30s, the situation between oil companies and their workers in Mexico was extremely conflictive, often resulting in strikes, and sometimes even violence. The origin of the tensions between both groups was that the workers demanded better working conditions and basically a whole new collective contract to rule their relationship with the companies. On the other hand, the companies weren't really excited about this and claimed to lack the funding necessary to satisfy those demands. Naturally, public opinion was initially divided on the subject, however, eventually both the Government and the population began to be on the workers' side. In order to fight this, in 1936 the oil companies decided to fund a short educational film as propaganda for their cause, hoping to win back the public's favor as the defenders of Mexican industry. And to make this film they hired the crew responsible of Mexico's biggest box office hit of the year: "Allá en el Rancho Grande".

The result was "Petróleo - La Sangre del Mundo" (literally "Petroleum - The Blood of the World"), a 19 minutes short film that covers the the historical importance of oil and its products in the industrial development of a country. Written by Antonio Momplet and co-directors Arturo S. Mom and Fernando De Fuentes, "Petróleo" is very informative about the whole process of extraction of crude oil and the treatment it gets to produce the rest of its derivatives. However, being a work done with the intention of promoting the role the big oil companies play in the industry, it's origins as propaganda are more than obvious as it spends a lot of time explaining how necessary the companies are for the future of the nation. Granted, the companies had a point in the sense that their technology, funds and experience were invaluable at that moment, but the narration certainly tends to exaggerate their role. However, what's odd about "Petróleo - La Sangre del Mundo", is that despite this, the movie conveys exactly the opposite message.

And that happens because of the way words and images work in the film. As written above, "Petróleo" was directed by Arturo S. Mom and Fernando De Fuentes, whom using the beautiful camera-work by Adolfo W. Slazy, Manuel Álvarez Bravo (later known as one of Mexico's greatest photographers) and Gabriel Figueroa, were in charge of putting images to the words of the oil companies. Now, the oddity in "Petróleo" is that while the narrative talks about the benefits of the companies, the images captured tend to showcase the work of the workers, the common people, putting special emphasis in the nobility of their work, the strength of their collective effort, and the difficulties they have to overcome to produce the "blood of the world". In a purely visual way, "Petróleo" has more in common with the soviet propaganda done by Eisenstein and other Russian filmmakers than with the normal educational shorts about scientific themes. Needless to say, the images in "Petróleo - La Sangre del Mundo" speak more than the film's screenplay.

This contrast between images and words is so carefully organized that it just couldn't be mere coincidence, as it is in fact a cleverly devised blow against the oil companies in which, using their own film, the filmmakers effectively did propaganda for the opposite side. In his memoirs, legendary cinematographer Gabriel Figueroa (a convinced socialist) claims full credit of the deed, detailing how by being familiar with the way Álvarez Bravo and De Fuentes worked, he was able to work his ideas into the film without nobody noticing it. While I don't doubt that Figueroa was the mastermind behind it all, I imagine that he must have had the collaboration of De Fuentes, Álvarez Bravo or at least editors Carles L. Kimball or Ulrico Stern, as "Petróleo"'s overtly socialist tone is so subtle and yet so powerful that it just feels like the result of a collaborative work. As expected from the talented set of cinematographers, the images of "Petróleo" are, while probably generic, of great quality and even have a certain beauty.

In the end, the fight between the companies and the workers ended in 1938, when on March the 18th the Government of president Lázaro Cárdenas expropriated the petroleum industry. The workers' movement became very popular amongst the population, so even when its probable that "Petróleo" had not been a key factor in that, it could be said that the ideas of Figueroa and company won in the end. Still, while "Petróleo - La Sangre del Mundo" is nothing more than an educational short film (filled with the genre's typical problems, like a terribly dull narration, I must add), the way its images are in a constant fight with the whole film's idea make it a very interesting movie to watch. Given the way things ended, "Petróleo" may not had been the most successful documentary, but as the perfect display of the power of images, it's outstanding.

7/10