By Camila González Revoredo for Estudio Silver
In times when sadness infiltrates and overflows into everyday life, going to the movies –and even more, attending an independent film festival– becomes a political, poetic, and above all, human gesture. We share this chronicle by Camila González Revoredo for Estudio Silver: an intimate look at BAFICI, the Buenos Aires International Independent Film Festival, and what shines when the screen lights up the darkened theater.
I asked a friend if she saw what I saw: sad people on the streets. Not the typical Argentine melancholy, that tango-like passing, that singing for a glorious past that nobody remembers, but the anguish that doesn’t let you lift your feet off the ground. My friend tried to explain it by saying that the nation was being besieged by an astrological phenomenon, but I was not convinced. Then she blamed the brown leaves, the allergy season… she took it out on everything that could be annoying about the autumn. Since that argument didn’t work either, she pulled out the ace in the sleeve: she reminded me that we are world champions, she baited me with a mate, and so, for a moment, the sadness I could sense from that balcony went away.
In today’s Argentina, a single job is not enough to cover the costs of basic needs. There are elderly people who, having worked their entire lives, go out to protest once a week because they cannot make more than one meal a day or buy their medicines. Those of us who are still part of the labor market run after odd jobs trying to fill a bucket with a sieve. We exploit ourselves to the point of exhaustion in the hope of one day reaching the comfort we seek. Some of us study and strive to sustain the illusion of a more prosperous life in the future. We look in the mirror trying to measure up. We take care of the house, we clean up the chaos. We admire those who have the greatness to raise children or care for others. We live with a fragmented body, in a daily overflow, where it is almost a luxury to have time to meet. At this moment, we could use a hug.
We are living in a society that has turned to the right, where even bonds are considered assets. “Surround yourself with people who lift you higher”, is the kind of wisdom spread on social media. This transactional way of being with others is not natural; it is ideological. Human beings turned into ornaments or trophies that others wear or discard according to a value that is measured in material possessions or social position. This creates superficial, ephemeral, disposable relationships, like plastic bottles that are discarded after use.
The COVID-19 pandemic taught us that lacking social support networks increases the costs associated with mental health. Let’s remember the sadness of not being able to be close to each other. It makes you want to hug your friends even more. Individualism is not only detrimental to health, but also deprives us of the possibility of collective growth. Great advances in science, culture, politics and the arts have come from this shared effort.
So what do we do with all this? Find each other, even if day-to-day life threatens that possibility. Where? My favorite place, ideal for dates, anniversaries, childhood entertainment, and where you never forget the first time you visit: the cinema.
Yes, getting tickets to go to a commercial cinema is also a privilege, but luckily there are accessible alternatives: film festivals, for example.
Every year in April, the Buenos Aires International Independent Film Festival, BAFICI, takes place, and I was lucky enough to attend. I went to see a documentary. In the elevator of the Lugones Theater, on the emblematic Corrientes Street, I asked my friends where they were showing another film that caught my attention. They didn’t know, but the kind voice of a stranger with a MUBI tote bag answered me. I thanked her, she smiled at me. We hit it off. I walked into the room, looked around and recognized many faces. It’s a common thing during a film festival: after a few days, everybody looks familiar. The movie started. I heard someone laughing in the dark. I realized it was a friend sitting nearby. It made me happy: the joy of someone you love is always contagious.
Another day I arrived late and could not enter the screening because it was full. Disappointed but at the same time happy to see that an Argentinian film was sold out, I walked with my back to the Obelisk. I was sure that BAFICI was going to give me a second chance that afternoon, and so it was. I found a free talk with professionals who gave a lecture on the evolution of the national box office in recent years. They discussed audience tastes, the influence of streaming services and possible strategies to strengthen the connection with audiences. Another treasure.
The following night I went to the screening of a friend’s documentary about a traumatic event that marked her life. How great is the pride of seeing someone you adore fulfill their dream and at the same time heal a wound that was transformed into nothing less than a film. At the end, the excited audience had the opportunity to ask about the production process and future plans of the director. I had mixed feelings. The contact with the director of a film is usually beautiful and rich, but someone asked her a very personal question and, as it is easy to empathize with a loved one, I was offended by the stranger’s question. I even said out loud that it seemed unnecessary to answer. But my friend answered with a smile. I felt the contradiction: those who create an artistic work expose themselves twice: first by sharing it and then by having to explain their processes in front of other people in a situation of asymmetry. At the end, a group of us wanted to continue the talk over drinks, and we took it to a bar. The gathering ended at dawn, after talks about the stories we had seen at the festival, small anecdotes and great moments of our lives. It was like a hug between friends, but also between strangers.
I think about how difficult it is to build a huge project like a film, to sustain it, to defend it in the current context in Argentina, with our Cinema Arts Institute paralyzed by decision of the current government. A recent report issued by Espacio Audiovisual Nacional, EAN, [National Audiovisual Alliance], an association made up of industry societies and collectives, analyzed the first year of the presidency of the National Institute of Cinema and Audiovisual Arts (INCAA). Throughout 2024 and so far in 2025, Carlos Pirovano became the only president of INCAA with the historical record of zero Argentinian films supported during his administration. This fact does not elicit general indignation. How could we have such empathy if we barely have time to survive? How different it would be to share this burden: to embrace causes that seem unfair to us; to challenge initiatives that destroy our cultural heritage together, to question who benefits from the fact that an industry that provides support to so many families is broken. Who gains from us feeling isolated and saddened?
Festivals like BAFICI are meeting places and a refuge for those of us who make a living out of this. A parenthesis in everyday life, like a vacation where everything is lived more intensely. In recent festivals and also in markets like Ventana Sur I met spectacular people, willing to share a chat, a meal, some mates, or a reflection like this one. People with whom I shared just a few days, but who I feel I’ve known for years. A shared love of film automatically creates a bond between people. It is a common ground that fosters connection. I hope Ventana Sur will be held again in Argentina this year. And I long for those strong, sincere bonds that a mutual passion forsters. May we continue to meet at the movie theater.