A Concrete Cinema

CELLULOID PASSIONS

Made in absence of artificialities, Luz Ruciello's documentary portraits with no sentimentalism the daily life of a film lover from a small town and the power of his pure devotion for the seventh art.
Omar Borcard works, day after day, in a shoe shop. Omar lives with his wife, who he has shared life with for many years. Omar built a cinema for four years next to his house and called it “Cine Paradiso”. That rupture between everyday life and excitement is what makes the difference in A Concrete Cinema.
 
All of this is narrated in first person. Omar himself explains -naturally, as if what he does day after day were common things every human being should do- how he built his cinema theater, how he worked on the screen and the acoustics, how he got 1929 Gaumont’s projector as a donation, almost by chance. The willpower -against all expectations- of a poor man who never gave up.
 
 
The admiration the filmmaker feels for the portrayed character is reflected in every frame but Ruciello's true achievement is to tell a story that goes beyond Omar, that searches for other senses. A Concrete Cinema is a documentary about passion and love for cinema. In line with the unforgettable Jorge Mario, the town hero protagonist from Amateur, by Néstor Frenkel, Omar relies on the support of his neighbors, the authorities and even people from other towns and cities who listen to his radio show and share his true vocation.
 
From archival material -the Borcards family pictures, editions by former Mitre Cinema- to frames of poetic beauty, the documentary reaches a unique level of sensitivity with no clichés in the voice of its protagonist. “I couldn't buy the projector. I closed my eyes and I dreamt about seeing the light coming out of the lens, the image on the screen, the sound. I always dreamt about those things”, Omar says, while he nostalgically observed a library whole where there used to be a screen. And among all those memories, a beam of natural light falls on the dust of a construction site, as if it was the glow of an old reflector, looking for its ideal audience.
 
Ezequiel Vega
 

 

Screenings
Today, Mon 20, 6:00 pm AMB3

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