Un poeta

Oscar Restrepo (Ubeimar Rios) believes that poetry is born of sorrow. He was once a promising voice in Colombian literature and a rigorous admirer of José Asunción Silva, with an early book that earned him an award at the age of 24; now, he is a middle-aged drunkard who still lives with his mother and has lost the respect of his daughter. Although he no longer writes, he does occasionally go on self-aggrandising rants at the local poets’ association. As a more successful colleague puts it, Restrepo became a poem, and a very sad one at that. So when a gifted teenage student from a humble home tells him she doesn’t write from a place of tremendous pain, his spiral of self-obliteration comes to a halt. He sets out to nurture this new talent and make amends for his erratic behaviour. It won’t turn out so well, as no one emerges completely unscathed from the piercing gaze of Simon Mesa Soto’s inspired second feature, a dread-inducing comedy captured in grimy 16mm frames akin to Ronald Bronstein’s FROWNLAND (2007). A satire about the fallacious reasons for making art that doubles as a reflection on cinema’s ethical issues in dealing with non-actors, it gives centre stage to Rios’ beautifully tortured debut performance. (Antoine Thirion)

Simón Mesa Soto: LOS TIEMPOS MUERTOS (2009, K), LEIDI (2014, K), MADRE (2016, K), AMPARO (2021)