Sergio Martinez

In boxing, the road to respect is usually a long one. You put in your time, pay your dues one marginally-more-challenging opponent at a time, and, if you keep winning, ultimately get your shot at the big fight. At least that's how it usually goes. What makes the Sept. 15 middleweight championship bout between Sergio Martinez and Julio Cesar Chavez Jr. so extraordinary is that it completely defies the rules about respect being earned instantly. One minute, this fight fell somewhere between absurdity and atrocity. The next minute, everyone demanded it. And to make things even more unusual, the moment we demanded it, we got it. That doesn't happen very often in boxing.

Pistolero is a fiction that in a certain way is an essay on violence. The story follows the criminal raid of Isidoro Mendoza and his brother Claudio in the rural Argentina during Ongania’s dictatorship, and how the violence of his criminal deeds begins to leave a mark in them. A teacher from Buenos Aires arrives to Isidoro’s life, and love is the possibility to open himself to a new life, but even as he tries, he can not escape the entropy generated by his own drives and actions.