Inés Bortagaray, Gonzalo Delgado and Arauco Hernández Holz, takes us back to an era 50 years ago and to some of the art films of the early 60s that feature black-and-white cinematog-raphy; quiet, sometimes elliptical narrative (often about the lives of "little people"); and a very sparse budget (though nothing as minimal, I think, as today's DIY videos). In that spirit, our film-making team has produced a wonder-ful example of art cinema that is also about art cinema -- what it means to those who view it, those who purvey it, and where, alas, it might be going.
Jorge Jellinek, above, who is apparently a real-life critic in Uruguay and in fact bears some slight resemblance to our own Richard Peña), learns that, due to a combination of mounting unpaid bills and diminishing audiences, his beloved Cinemateque, for which he has labored over 25 years, will be closing, leaving him unemployed.
Paola Venditto, above, right) who frequents the Cinemateque (and for whom, in the midst of all the economic woes and despite her willingness to pay, he provides a complimentary admission).
The Global Film Initiative, is this year's submission by Uruguay for consideration as Best Foreign Language Film. While the Academy's placing this little movie on even the shortlist would surprise me, it would certainly say something for that storied group's understanding of the plight of repertory and art cinema. (A glossy, mainstream narrative about film-making, such as Even the Rain, is more likely to find itself on the Academy's list.) In any case, the film opens for a one-week run in New York City at MoMA, to be followed by showings in other cities, too.