André Mielnik

There is a monster in Lake Nahuel Huapi. At twilight, it spreads across the surface of the water like a taut cowhide, grabbing its victims with sharp claws. Another monster also lurks around the lake, near Bariloche, in the Argentine Andes.

Pinky is on the run. At night the empty streets smell of the apocalypse and the city seems to be on fire. Narcotics swirl through the veins and the air. Having freed himself from the clutches of a sect led by a certain “padre” and determined to take his fate into his own hands, he is now holed up in an illegal T-shirt factory, surrounded by paints, slogans and heat presses. Pinky is looking for the light at the end of the tunnel, but ghosts are breathing down his neck. He is running for his life, and Colombia is on fire. But Colombia is alive.

Invented by the post-New Wave, the exercise is well-known: put a filmmaker in the frame, make him talk about his career, evoke his admirations, rummage in his methods, and add words to silences, spoken images to seen images. It’s always very instructive. As is the case here too. Chantal Akerman, passing through South America, talks about herself for an hour, and it’s fascinating. Even if her recalling of the relationship between the cinema and time makes up only a few rare minutes.

America, a famous Brazilian actress, transforms her existential crisis into a show watched closely by her biggest fan.

In the year 74 BC, Titus Lucretius Carus, a young man with bold ideas, tries to convince his friend Memio that moving to the city of Rome to study is a total waste of time. Years later, Lucretius returns from the capital. Trying to find a balance between his explanations of the natural world and his emotional experience of it, Lucretius lives a deep and troubled passion with his foreign wife Isa.

A road trip of sorts between the Amazon forest in Brazil and the controlled nature of Belgium.