Du côté de l'ouest lointain

One night. One city. Madrid. Five conversations. Nine characters. They tell personal stories, invented stories, also an old story that goes on from conversation to conversation, a story from an old Japanese film.

A boy met a girl. They spent some time together, they went to the movies often, they gave away things, they traveled. The girl leaves the boy. The boy believed that she was the woman of his life. She gives him a notebook with drawings (the best he knows how to do) and with all the tickets of all the movies that he went to see. The boy takes a camera. A 22-year-old boy who exposes himself in such a way in a film, which expresses himself in the first person offering us some pages of a newspaper, his, which no other person could write in his place, talking to us without concessions of his first history of love and the pain of a break, is not frequent. A boy who shares his pain, the need to film what he loves and what he is losing, his learning of life and the world through cinema -the cinema alone- is also infrequent. A gesture of a filmmaker.

The Night. She doesn't sleep. She calls. She tells. She saw a movie.

María has a steady job and a quiet life, but her father’s death forces her to examine her feelings. Juan, with whom she has had an affair, is a musician and music teacher. After a series of meetings and arguments, they will share a moment of understanding and honesty.

A sculptor sets up his studio in a remote rural area on the Galician coast. He gradually isolates himself, cutting contact with friends and family. A former lover's visit prompts him to reflect on his isolation and need to flee again.

Alicia is twenty-five years old. Alicia does stuff. Alicia is boring herself… that’s what she believes.

Beto, a retired soccer player, returns to his city to start a routine job. He stays in a family apartment with his niece Elisa, focused on the preparation of some oppositions. Throughout a day, the story follows her wandering through the streets, in contrast to her daily routine. At the end and at the end of the day both share memories and silences.

30 minutes. Lots of dialogues. On friendship. On love. On memory. On oblivion. And a bit of democracy, too.

As night falls, Andrea records a message for Pablo, whom she hasn't seen for months, like a long letter or a 21st-century novel.

Ana records an audio message to an old friend. She doubts.