Walter JakobOnce Upon a Time, Mr. Z…: Interview with Walter Jakob Hamed Sarrafi August 2024 22 Years of El Pampero Cine Issue 110 El Pampero Cine is acclaimed for its intricate narratives, its playful engagement with filmmaking, and its deep literary and cinematic roots, clearly distancing itself from typical film festival trends. The studio is distinguished by a dedicated ensemble of actors who vividly animate its unique cinematic universe, with Walter Jakob emerging as a particularly versatile and pivotal figure. Jakob’s performances span a wide range, from his nearly silent yet powerful portrayal of Z in the four-hour epic Historias extraordinaries (Extraordinary Stories, Mariano Llinás, 2008) — where his presence is enhanced by a poignant voiceover—to his subtle interpretation of Franz Schubert in Un andantino (Alejo Moguillansky, 2023). Despite his warm and engaging persona, Jakob often explores complex characters. In La Flor (2018), he embodies a director overwhelmed by a vast project, selected specifically by director Mariano Llinás, who also provides the character’s voice. Jakob’s character confronts the challenges of working with talented yet disillusioned actresses, eventually leaving the set to film a documentary about trees and vanishing under mysterious circumstances. El Pampero’s productions frequently blur the lines between documentary and fiction, delving into the creative process. Jakob regularly portrays directors within these narratives, a meta-narrative element that not only underscores his importance as an actor but also positions him as a symbolic ‘alter ego’ of the directors, enriching the cinematic tapestry of films like La Flor, El loro y el cisne (The Parrot and the Swan, Alejo Moguillansky, 2013) and La vendedora de fósforos (The Little Match Gir, Alejo Moguillansky, 2017). He humorously refers to this recurring role as ‘Walter_ego’. Expanding his creative scope, Jakob collaborates in writing and directing plays with his colleague and friend, Agustín Mendilaharzu. His approachability and engaging demeanour were fully evident during a three-hour Zoom interview, where he discussed his theatrical and directorial pursuits, along with his eclectic hobbies, including an impressive collection of over 5,000 vinyl records and an extensive library of books. His congeniality allowed our conversation to naturally extend beyond the scheduled time, offering insights into Argentina’s socio-political and cultural landscape. Jakob’s approachable and cooperative nature underscores his pivotal role in knitting together the key personalities of El Pampero Cinema. His readiness to dive into projects, often with scant details about his character or the outcome, demonstrates why he is such a trusted figure in portraying fictional directors, further enriching the storytelling tapestry of El Pampero Cinema. The Little Match Girl Walter, could you share your background and how you got into theatre and filmmaking? Also, tell us about your first encounter with this group. Sure, let’s start from the beginning. After secondary school, I studied cinema at Universidad del Cine in Buenos Aires in the 90s, encouraged by my friend Mariano Llinás. We’ve been friends since primary school in 1980. Even, our families were acquainted before that; my mother knew his father. They were members of a local club, Club Hípico Argentino, known for its horseback riding and swimming facilities, where Mariano and I spent some time as kids. After finishing school in 1992, I went through a couple of uncertain years, especially challenging due to my father’s passing. However, one significant aspect of those years was the time Mariano and I spent watching films together, often focusing on art films rather than mainstream cinema… Mariano started at Universidad del Cine in 1994, and I joined in 1995. This period was formative for both of us as we transitioned from school to higher education, deeply immersing ourselves in cinema. Were the significant art films you explored, especially those pivotal in cinema history and the Argentine film industry, readily accessible? We primarily watched films on VHS and some cable TV programs for cinephiles, allowing us to record movies. Special video clubs, like Liberarte, were crucial for accessing rare films and shaping our tastes. Additionally, cinema cycles and magazines in Buenos Aires, where there’s a strong cinephile culture, were influential. Mariano and I explored European cinema, Hollywood classics, and renowned directors worldwide. My parents also influenced my passion for cinema—my mother, a Madrid-born film enthusiast, loved Buñuel and Hollywood classics, while my father, born in 1922, filmed family trips with a 35mm Bells / Howell camera. After finishing school, Mariano and I spent a lot of time together, and it was then that he met Agustín Mendilaharzu through me. It’s interesting to learn that you played a key role in fostering their friendship… Yes, I did (laughs). Reflecting on my friendship with Agustín, it’s fascinating to consider its origins. Our bond goes back to before we were born since our mothers were friends. Agustín and I were connected from a very early stage in our lives. He was also born in 1975 and started studying cinema at Universidad de Buenos Aires in 1993, while I studied at Universidad del Cine. During my time there, I made several friends, including Alejo Moguillansky, who later got to know Mariano. And again another key member of El Pampero Cine was connected to Mariano through you… (laughs) I believe somehow I played a key and instrumental role in the composition of El Pampero Cine. Those years were very fruitful; however, I have to confess that I eventually realized I enjoyed watching films more than making them. I wasn’t sure about directing, but I started making theatre plays, many with Agustín. Around 1999, we took acting classes with renowned playwrights and directors Javier Daulte and Alejandro Maci, and began writing and directing plays together—about eight so far. Simultaneously, we connected with actors in the independent theatre circuit in Buenos Aires, many of whom later acted in El Pampero Cine movies. These connections were crucial, as El Pampero operates more like the independent theatre scene in Buenos Aires than the conventional film industry. It’s fascinating to observe a pronounced focus on writing within your team. With Mariano’s screenwriting skill, Alejo’s distinctive method, and Laura’s unique literary style, it’s clear that literature and dramaturgy are central to your creations. Each member contributes a unique flavour, yet there’s a shared, robust literary foundation Yes, literature has always been a significant part of our lives. Mariano’s father was a well-known writer, so he naturally grew up surrounded by literature. Our parents cultivated a habit of reading in us. My mother was an avid reader, and I always tried to keep up with her pace. The influence of literature is evident in our films, especially in Mariano’s work, where he often incorporates voiceovers and other literary devices. We have a voracious appetite for books, movies, and music. (He shows his collection of vinyl) In fact, I have a substantial collection of vinyl records, including music from all around the world and classical Iranian music… The stage play La edad de oro (Golden Age) What themes do you usually explore in your plays? Do they address contemporary issues in Argentina, or do you prefer a more experimental approach? Our starting point for a play is usually an engaging image or situation, rather than a specific subject. From there, we develop the action that might evolve into a story. For instance, our last play, ‘Three Ages,’ inspired by the Buster Keaton film, revolves around cinema. It’s a theatre play about films, but interestingly, we don’t project any images during the play. The play spans from present-day Buenos Aires to the early days of cinema in France, predating D. W. Griffith’s movies, and showcasing pioneers who created films with chase sequences. It also includes a futuristic segment set in 22nd century India, where a movie is produced in an unusual manner. Each scene addresses the concept of movie-making, the art of cinema, and the idea of authorship in films, whether it’s the director, the writer, or others. This year, we performed this play at the Teatro Nacional Cervantes in Buenos Aires. It’s one of the few times we’ve worked in a state theatre, as we usually produce our plays in independent venues. The subject of our plays often emerges unexpectedly during the creative process. Agustín and I approach our work without a predetermined theme in mind. We embrace certain universe that interests us and then welcome the element of surprise in our creative process. It’s not a matter of having something to say about a specific topic, claiming to have profound insights on a particular subject. In fact, we often joke that we don’t have much to say about anything (laughs). Our method is more about following our curiosity and interest in a certain idea, having fun with it, and then developing it further through research and exploration, and eventually letting new ideas present themselves, ideas that would have been unthinkable for us, before developing the play. What are the origins of El Pampero Cine, and how did it become a significant independent group in Argentine cinema from your perspective? What key moments and influences shaped its unique identity? From my recollection, although Mariano, Agustín, Alejo, and Laura would have more detailed insights, the formation of El Pampero Cine was intricately linked to the production of Extraordinary Stories. During this time, Mariano and the team began renting a space that became known as El Pampero. This period marked a pivotal stage in the group’s development. A key factor was the growing friendship between Alejo, a close friend of mine, and Mariano, which I helped foster. The group was further enriched by connections with younger filmmakers from the university, including Laura Citarella, who produced Extraordinary Stories. The intensive year-long production of Extraordinary Stories epitomized this convergence of diverse influences, laying the foundation for El Pampero Cine’s future endeavours and establishing its distinct position in the Argentine film industry. And at this point you joined them as an actor… Well, Mariano conceived the film with Agustín, me and himself playing the leading roles from the start. We had frequent meetings where he shared with us the progress of the script. And I´m sure he would have had Agustín and me acting even if we were not actors. For him, at that stage, this film was only possible with friends… Regarding my becoming an actor, it all began somewhat accidentally. Agustín and I whimsically decided to join an acting class. Agustín, a friend of Joaquin Bonet (son of renowned actor and director Osvaldo Bonet), mentioned on a bus ride that he wanted to take an acting course recommended by Joaquin. On a spur of the moment, I agreed to join him. This led us to a theatre class run by Javier Daulte, which turned out to be an incredible experience where we learned a great deal about narrative techniques and the art of imagining and constructing scenes. This approach to acting, which focused more on the needs of the scene than on character composition, really resonated with me. Before I knew it, I was acting in various plays and movies, often directed by peers from my university days. The same year I shot Extraordinary Stories, I participated in two other films directed by university companions. One was La Ronda (2008), directed by Inés Braun and starring Rafael Spregelburd in his first starring role, who delivered a fantastic performance. The other was Los Paranoicos (2008), a cult favourite in Buenos Aires, directed by Gabriel Medina and starring the renowned Uruguayan actor Daniel Hendler. Interestingly, in many films, including Los Paranoicos and La Ronda, and some by Alejo, I often portrayed a film director. This recurring role allowed me to play versions of myself, intertwining our lives with the films we make. Walter Jakob, Mariano Llinás & Agustín Mendilaharzu behind the scenes of Extraordinary Stories In Extraordinary Stories, the plot and character communication primarily unfold through voiceovers rather than dialogue, creating a unique narrative style. How did you discover this approach? What was your initial reaction to the screenplay, and how challenging was it to play a role this way? When Mariano wrote Extraordinary Stories, he had already discussed the film with Agustín and me. His initial intention was to make a film with us as the leading actors, primarily because we were close friends, not because of our acting credentials. He chose friends, including himself, to be part of the project. We had several meetings to express our ideas for our roles. Mariano developed the story with our input, so we weren’t surprised by the script’s contents. From the outset, we knew we wouldn’t have spoken lines and that the film would rely heavily on voiceovers, even before the script was written. In terms of acting, we understood that the voiceover would do the heavy lifting. Our job was to act, be present on set, interact with the environment, and perform actions as directed. The voiceover carried much of the narrative weight, allowing us to focus on our physical performances in front of the camera Did you participate in filming other parts of the movie involving Agustina’s or Mariano’s characters, or did you only film your parts separately? How long did it take to film the entire movie, and were your scenes shot consecutively or intermittently? The first part of the film, particularly the river scenes, was shot before I joined the project. When summer came, I started filming with Mariano. I don’t remember the exact month, but we did most of my scenes together in different locations. We would shoot for a few days in one place, then return to Buenos Aires, then go to another location for a week, and so on. My scenes were mostly filmed consecutively over several days. After my parts were done, they took a break before filming Mariano’s parts. We also went to Mozambique, to Maputo, the following year in March to shoot additional scenes. The first day there, we scouted locations, and the next day we filmed. For the long walk scene, Mariano told me to just walk straight ahead without turning back. The camera was far away, and I just kept walking, not wanting to spoil the shot by turning back prematurely. How much freedom were you given to contribute to your character when discussing the film with Mariano and Agustín? Was Mariano open to your input on your role, character development, or the story, or did he strictly follow his own vision? Initially, we had a few meetings where Mariano introduced us to the concept of the film. When we first got together, he presented the idea, suggesting that the three of us should act in it. Although it seemed like a crazy idea at the time, we were enthusiastic about collaborating with him. Mariano had a lot of ideas and shared details about the locations where he wanted to shoot. He had a clear vision even before we began discussing the film in detail. We didn’t delve deeply into the storyline or our characters at the beginning. My memories of those early discussions are a bit fuzzy, but Mariano has talked about our initial collaboration before the script was finalized. One specific instance I remember is when I told Mariano I wanted a wild animal in the script. Eventually, that became the lion in the film. He immediately accepted this idea because he also wanted it. That was one of my contributions. Mariano incorporated a lot of his vision while accommodating some of our suggestions, like the lion. The scene with the lion was very dramatic. Can you share the story behind filming that scene? How was the lion brought in, and what challenges did you face? It seemed tranquilized. Regarding the lion, it was born in a zoo in General Rodríguez, outside Buenos Aires. The lion had been born in captivity, so it was somewhat tamed, but still, of course, a lion. We filmed the lion scene in a different location than what you see on screen. The actual shooting took place in Tandil, at a farm. However, for the lion scene, we went to the zoo, which was closed at the time but still had this lion and some keepers who helped us. They gave us specific instructions, and we managed to shoot the scene. It was very special for me to be there with the lion. Extraordinary Stories Regarding the direction of certain scenes, you mentioned that Mariano guided you on where to go and what to do. However, in some scenes, it seemed you had a lot of freedom. For example, the interaction at the sister’s house with the man who called you Raul, which I found amusing. The dynamic between you and the girls felt very natural, almost like a casual family conversation. Similarly, in other scenes, your interactions seemed very spontaneous and genuine, as if the camera was just capturing everyday chats. Could you elaborate on how these scenes were directed and the extent of improvisation involved? Mariano provided direction regarding where to go and what to do, but he also allowed us a lot of freedom to explore our characters. For example, the interaction at the sister’s house felt very natural because we were given the liberty to improvise and make it seem like a real family conversation. Similarly, the scenes at the federation with the money were spontaneous. Mariano’s flexible direction captured genuine, everyday interactions, making the scenes feel authentic and unscripted. In scenes with many actors, like the lunch scene with the family and the man who calls me Raúl, the atmosphere was very relaxed. We were essentially just having fun around the table while Mariano shot the scenes. He and Agustín handled the camera work, allowing us to focus on our interactions. We all knew each other well, having worked together in theatre. For instance, Mariana Chaud, who played one of the sisters, and Lola Arias, now a renowned playwright and theatre director in Europe, were involved. At that time, Lola was just beginning her career in playwriting and theatre direction, although she had already created some plays. I had worked with her before. The direction depended on the complexity of the camera work. For tightly choreographed scenes, Mariano would give specific instructions like “look over there,” “walk until you reach that point,” and “then turn left.” However, in the lunch scenes, we were simply sitting, eating, and conversing. Even if I talked a lot and said whatever came to mind, it didn’t matter because my voice would not be heard in the final cut due to a voice-over. This interplay between voiceover and on-screen action was fascinating. The voiceover almost acted as a character builder, narrating the story while I appeared more as a visual element. This dynamic required me to focus on offering nuances and details that the voiceover couldn’t provide. It was like creating a counterpoint in a musical composition, where the voiceover served as the main melody and my on-screen actions provided a secondary tune. These elements needed to harmonize, creating a cohesive narrative form. Working within these parameters was liberating in a unique way. It allowed me to subtly develop my character while adhering to a well-defined context. Was the initial draft of Extraordinary Stories as long as the final film, or were some parts cut? Specifically, the brief appearance of Elisa Carricajo’s character seemed like it might have had a more significant role initially. Regarding Elisa’s character, I don’t recall any scenes suggesting a deeper connection between my character and hers. There might have been a hint in the script, but no actual scenes were filmed or included in the final cut that explored that relationship further. Some scenes were written and filmed but didn’t make it into the final version. Mariano published a book with the script and notes about the changes from script to film, but unfortunately, it’s not available in English. Let’s discuss your experience acting in La Flor, which appears to be quite different from your role in Extraordinary Stories. In La Flor, Mariano often directed without a written script in hand; he seemed to have the script in his mind. This led to many impromptu decisions on set. I would frequently ask him about the next scene, and he would verbally communicate what he envisioned, sometimes right there and then. Occasionally, he had prepared some lines that we had to learn directly from his handwriting, which is very bad, by the way, let the truth be said (he laughs). This process required a high level of adaptability and responsiveness from us actors, almost like we were following his lead in real-time. One of the most intriguing aspects of my role in La Flor was that I played Mariano, and my voice was dubbed with his, creating an unusual effect. This added a layer of complexity and humour to my performance, as I tried to mimic his mannerisms and expressions, which we were all familiar with. I remember trying to capture his facial gestures, especially how he looked when he was angry or scrutinizing something. I think imitating Mariano and imagining his reactions in different scenarios added a slightly surreal element to my role. La Flor La Flor The fourth episode of La Flor parodies the making of an extremely long feature film. When you joined the project, it had already been in production for six years. Considering El Pampero’s ongoing projects and your involvement in other films like The Little Match Girl, do you see your character as very different from Mariano, the actual filmmaker? How much of the frustration your character displays is rooted in reality? How much of what we see in that episode reflects your observations and experiences during production? First of all, in La Flor, Mariano’s intention was for me to play him. The entire segment mirrors the structure of the film. Instead of the flower, you have the spider. They are shooting a film that mirrors the one you’re watching. Mariano thought, who better than me to play him? The twist was that my voice wouldn’t be heard; everything I say in the film is spoken by Mariano. It’s my body and gestures, but his voice, creating a strange, almost monstrous effect. It was both strange and funny for me. While acting, I parodied Mariano’s real-life reactions. He’s very intense, and I focused on specific gestures, exaggerating them to create a funny effect that Mariano really enjoyed. It’s a parody, but it’s not entirely how he is in real life—just certain gestures and mannerisms. Regarding whether the film’s events are based on real facts, I believe it’s all made up by Mariano. La Flor took 10 years to complete, and while there were difficult moments, what you see on screen is pure fiction. Mariano was having fun with the antagonism between him and the actresses, playing up the battle of the sexes for the narrative. La Flor was very different for me compared to Historias extraordinarias, which was shot in about a year and a few months. Although La Flor took 10 years to complete, my role was filmed in about 20 days. I didn’t experience the film in the same way as others who were involved for the long haul. Regarding the alter ego aspect, it’s more about our friendship and collaboration. Alejo and I studied cinema together in university, so our relationship predates our work together. I act and understand directing, which might be why they chose me. But it’s not just about being an alter ego—it’s about our friendship and shared experiences. Mariano’s approach focuses on the spectator and how the film will be received. He’s not trying to express his own feelings; he’s more interested in how the movie is watched. This is why he introduces unexpected elements to keep the audience engaged. It’s about building the film with the spectator in mind, rather than telling a personal story. Regarding interpretations of the film, I’m generally hesitant to endorse any singular view. Instead, I believe Mariano’s focus is on the audience’s experience. He aims to refresh the narrative when it risks becoming predictable. For instance, in ‘Episode 5,’ the absence of the four actresses whom you engaged with up to that episode subverts expectations, setting up a reflective mirror on the narrative process itself. Mariano is less concerned with expressing personal sentiments and more interested in how the film resonates with viewers. His approach is about crafting an engaging cinematic experience rather than merely narrating personal experiences. I think this perspective is what guides his directorial decisions. Walter, it’s interesting and kind of funny that the concept of alter egos is evident not only in La Flor but also in The Parrot and the Swan and The Little Match Girl, where your characters reflect aspects of the directors’ personalities… Yes, in some respects, I serve as an alter ego in those films—a bit of a “Walter-ego,” if you will. That’s a little joke I have (He laughs). The truth is, my relationships with the directors predate our professional collaborations. We were friends long before I stepped into an acting role, which perhaps influenced their decision to cast me. My background in cinema, which I studied at university in the ’90s, also plays a role. There, I met Alejo and our friendship began. While I do bring aspects of an alter ego to the roles, that’s not the sole reason for my involvement. It’s just one layer of the collaboration. Before we discuss your experience with Alejo, I’m curious to know how the extended production timelines of Mariano’s and Laura’s films have impacted your experience as an actor. How do these lengthy shoots affect your approach to your roles and your engagement with the filmmaking process? Involvement in projects like La Flor and Trenque Lauquen was relatively brief, especially when compared to the overall duration of these productions. This is in stark contrast to the core team, including Mariano, Laura, and the actresses from Piel de Lava, who dedicated around 10 years to the project. Similarly, my contribution to Laura’s film was wrapped up in just a few days. Often, my participation in these films felt fleeting, and there were times I almost forgot about it until I heard news of the film’s progress or release. It’s a bit amusing, really. For example, with Laura’s film, I completed my part in just 2 or 3 days, and that was about 5 years ago. It’s easy to lose track of time and even forget your involvement in such extended projects. Then, suddenly, you hear conversations about the film still being in production, and it’s a classic reaction to be surprised and say, ‘Oh, you’re still working on that?’ The Little Match Girl We’ve observed that your collaborations with Alejo are marked by a significantly quicker pace of production compared to directors like Mariano and Laura. This speed sometimes even leads to his films, like Cecilia Sosa on Con la venia (If It Please the Court, 2022) not being immediately recognized or referenced widely. How has working in Alejo’s fast-paced environment influenced your acting, especially compared to the longer timelines with Mariano and Laura? Discovering my participation in Alejo’s film If It Please the Court was a surprise, even to me. Honestly, so far I myself have not known about this movie although I was acting in it! This epitomizes Alejo’s approach to filmmaking. He often utilizes pre-existing materials, creatively reassembling them for new projects. In that sense, Alejo’s style markedly contrasts with that of Laura and Mariano. While they start with a well-thought-out script (written or not), Alejo’s process is more intuitive at first. He has begun projects without any idea about what the film might end up looking like and somehow ‘found’ the film while shooting. Alejo’s filmmaking is characterized by starting with a real-life situation and allowing the film to unfold from there. This is evident in many of his films. In For the Money, he began filming the visit of the theatre play he had created with Luciana Acuña, his partner, at a theatre festival in Colombia, letting the narrative develop from there. In The Parrot and the Swan, Alejo began shooting a documentary film on various dance groups. During this process, an intriguing development occurred with El Loro, the sound man, who accidentally started appearing in front of the camera. For reasons known only to Alejo, he found this occurrence interesting and began intentionally capturing it. This shift in focus from just documenting dance groups to including these unintentional appearances added a new layer to the project. One of the dance groups featured in the documentary was a Grupo Krapp, which happened to include Luciana Acuña, dancer and director of the group with Luis Biasotto. This connection between the dance group and the sound man caught Alejo’s interest, and he began exploring the relationship between the two. Initially set to make a documentary about dance groups, Alejo found a more compelling story emerging from the interactions between Luciana, El Loro and the Grupo Krapp. To further develop this narrative, Alejo brought me in to direct the documentary segments within the film. My role was to film the dancers, but interestingly, on the day of my shoot, there were no dancers present. This disjointed approach to filming – capturing the dance and my directing scenes on separate days – was typical of the project’s flexible and adaptive style. On some days, this method of shooting worked perfectly, while on others, it required more adjustment. Alejo also introduced an American producer character into the mix, drawing inspiration from Godard’s use of such figures in his films, a kind of Jack Palance in Le Mépris. This addition brought another dimension to the movie, blending documentary-style footage with fictional elements. And in The Little Match Girl he started filming a documentary about Helmut Lachenmann’s opera being performed in Teatro Colón and ended up in a fiction about this couple and their little girl. There’s a scene in the film where I appear to be conversing with Helmut Lachenmann. Interestingly, we were never in the same room together; my part was actually filmed a year later (laughs). This often leads us to question about the believability of such scenes, yet it seamlessly blends into the narrative. There is a documentary aspect on one level, and on the other an undisguised use of the possibilities of cinema. It’s this playful and creative manipulation of film that sets the work apart… Your experience of engaging in a conversation with a character, filmed separately and without the other character physically present, reminds me of Abbas Kiarostami’s approach in Ta’m e guilass (Taste of Cherry, 1997). Kiarostami, known for his innovative filmmaking techniques, often had actors interact in scenes without being filmed together. This method creates a unique cinematic experience, blurring the lines between reality and fiction, much like in your own work As you might have gathered, many of us here are fans of Abbas Kiarostami’s films. But you must understand that the first thing we thought was “we cant’s bring Helmut Lachenmann back to Argentina to film with us.” And secondly “Helmut Lachenmann, the great German composer, doesn’t even know these images that were filmed with him are being recontextualized and that, because of that, now he has a supporting role in a fiction film”. Regarding my role as an actor in Alejo’s films, I must say he always seems to know exactly what I can offer. This makes the process feel both natural and effortless. His method is almost choreographic, particularly in the way he orchestrates camera movement and scene transitions, fostering a deep connection between acting and camera work. This stands in stark contrast to more conventional filmmaking, where the actor often remains unaware of the camera’s perspective. Acting in different types of films offers varied experiences. In mainstream films, actors might need to inquire about camera shots and framing. In contrast, with directors like Mariano, Alejo, and Laura, there’s a closer connection between acting and camera work. The atmosphere is more collaborative, and being friends adds to the comfort and understanding during filming. I must mention the great job that Inés Duacastella and Agustín Mendilaharzu do in these films; they are the unsung heroes. It seems that despite your intellectual pursuits, there’s an element of fun in your approach. While the outcomes, like Pampero’s films, are taken seriously and often critically analyse the industry and human behaviour, there’s an underlying sense of enjoyment. First, I must acknowledge that we are indeed intellectuals, deeply interested in various cultural aspects. However, when it comes to creating movies and plays, we don’t necessarily see them as platforms for making profound statements about the world. I find it difficult to always believe in the same things consistently. There’s a sense of scepticism even in the ideas we assert. We like to question and doubt the very things we confidently affirm. This approach is crucial to our work. I believe it’s vital to always question ourselves. Being too certain about something can be somewhat ridiculous. Movies and plays allow us to step back and observe ourselves from an external viewpoint. Pampero, for instance, has a knack for this. Alejo often stars in his own films, and Mariano appears in some of his works. Agustín, notably in Clementina appeared in the background, out of focus, acting as a very busy man with series of complex issues, portraying a character that is humorously self-referential. They tend to bring a self-reflective and inevitably humorous perspective to their projects. The Middle Ages Both Agustín in Clementina and Alejo in The Middle Ages depicted themselves during the COVID-19 pandemic, reflecting the era’s challenges. As the co-writer of The Middle Ages, could you share some insights into the process of writing with Alejo, particularly about his experiences and his family’s during that time? Our approach to filmmaking is highly dynamic and collaborative. For instance, during the production of the COVID movie, Alejo and Luciana Acuña started by filming some scenes based on their initial ideas. At a certain point, they would involve me to review their work. We would then engage in a thorough discussion, analysing and rearranging scenes, discerning what works and what doesn’t, and brainstorming missing elements. This process often involved saying things like, ‘Okay, this doesn’t work, this should be moved here, and this should be removed.’ There were numerous scenes requiring adjustments to ensure a seamless transition from one to another, often leaving us uncertain about how the story would evolve. Our discussions and imagination filled in the gaps of what was absent but necessary. This collaborative process is how I eventually became a writer for them. It wasn’t a matter of just sitting down to write a script and then having Alejo and Luciana go off to film it; it was much more interactive and fluid than that. Even in films where I’m credited as a writer, the script evolves continuously Honestly, I do not even know for which movies of him my name had been credited as a co-writer (laughs) On IMDb, you are listed as the co-screenwriter for The Middle Ages and as the co-editor for The Little Match Girl… Our roles in filmmaking are fluid and often interchangeable. Here’s an anecdote to illustrate this: During the Mar del Plata film festival for For the Money, Mariano called me to announce that we had won an editing prize. I was surprised and clarified that I hadn’t been involved in the editing of For the Money. My contribution was to the screenplay, while he had assisted with the editing. However, in our projects, distinctions between screenwriting, editing, and other roles are often blurred. Mariano insisted, and it turned out I was indeed credited as an editor. So, we both went to receive the editing prize. This incident highlights the essence of our collaborative work with Alejo, where tasks such as editing, writing, rewriting, and scene arrangement are seamlessly integrated into a continuous process. Take, for instance, our work on The Middle Ages. We might decide to reshoot a scene to better align with the overall narrative. During the editing phase, I might propose changes to the dialogue, prompting Alejo to rewrite parts of the film, particularly evident in the dialogues between him and Cleo, his daughter. This constant reworking and intervention in scenes characterize our approach. It enables us to alter the film’s tone or underlying message, even after the initial filming is complete. We’re always rewriting and reimagining scenes, sometimes changing the sound or dialogue to alter the entire meaning of a scene or using the sound from one scene with the image from another. Un andantino Have you had the opportunity to see Alejo’s latest movie, Un andantino, in which you played the role of Franz Schubert? Yes, I have seen Alejo’s latest movie, but interestingly, my role as Franz Schubert wasn’t initially intended for this film. And to tell you the truth, I didn´t even know I was playing Franz Schubert, I thought it was just me in the times of Franz Schubert! Those scenes were originally shot for The Little Match Girl. However, they weren’t used in that film and were instead set aside. Alejo had always mentioned that he planned to do something with these scenes. Eventually, he found a place for them in his last movie. This approach is quite common in his films. Often, scenes are shot with one intention but find their home in another project, sometimes even one that’s requested for a festival or a specific event. I believe Alejo’s latest film, Un andantino, represents the culmination of his filmmaking techniques and styles developed over the years. This progression, evident from The Gold Bug to this new film, showcases Alejo’s mastery in combining different ideas. His approach has evolved significantly, demonstrating a refined ability to weave diverse concepts and themes. My role in The Gold Bug came about quite unexpectedly. Originally, the part I played was intended for Alberto Suárez, a great actor associated with Rafael Spregelburd’s company. However, due to unforeseen circumstances, Alberto couldn’t participate, and just a week before the shooting was scheduled to start in the north of Argentina, Alejo reached out to me. He asked if I could take a flight the following week to join the film shoot. After quickly checking my schedule and commitments, I realized I could make it work. So, in a whirlwind of preparations, Alejo arranged my travel, and before I knew it, I was on my way to be part of The Gold Bug. The suddenness of the opportunity and the rapid change in plans are quite emblematic of the independent cinema world – it’s often spontaneous, flexible, and requires a readiness to adapt. The Gold Bug I feel that The Gold Bug uniquely bridges gaps in understanding different perspectives, aesthetics, and cultures, fostering empathy. Given Argentina’s complex political and social landscape, similar to countries like Iran, how do these circumstances influence your writing and filmmaking? Do Argentina’s history with military rule and ongoing economic challenges reflect in your artistic expressions? Absolutely, these factors play a significant role in our work, albeit on different levels. We can choose to address political topics directly or let the way we work speak for itself. Even if the content of our films or plays doesn’t explicitly reference current events in Argentina, the process and approach are inherently influenced by our surroundings. It’s a complex issue. I believe most of El Pampero movies inherently discuss the process of filmmaking itself. So, in a way, all their films comment on their own procedures and the methods we employ. Consequently, the way we work is invariably affected by various external factors, including the socio-political realities we encounter. These elements subtly, yet significantly, shape our approach to filmmaking and storytelling Working independently with limited resources allows us to experiment and embrace uncertainty in filmmaking. Traditional productions have set schedules and expectations, but our method lets us shoot experimentally, return to editing, and rewrite as needed. This flexibility is an artistic statement, emphasizing the importance of doubt and exploration in art. The international community’s support also plays a crucial role. If our success depended solely on the Argentine audience, it would be more challenging. Film’s global reach provides encouragement and validation. While I’m unsure how much my friends want to directly address current events in our films, I know Mariano is particularly interested in bringing certain subjects into the discussion. Mariano’s interest in contemporary themes is evident through his involvement in various projects. He has contributed to films like Argentina, 1985, The Student, and The Summit, all directed by Santiago Mitre. Additionally, his participation in international projects such as The Settlers (Felipe Gálvez Haberle, 2023) and Azor (Andreas Fontana, 2021) showcases his inclination towards films that engage with current subjects and themes. Argentina, 1985 had a significant impact, addressing the trial of those responsible for the crimes of the military dictatorship. It was crucial for informing young people in our country who were unaware of these events. However, this film was different — a big-budget production aimed at a broader audience. Santiago Mitre is a great director, but with such a significant subject, many considerations come into play, limiting creative freedom. The approach varies based on the film and its intended audience. Many artists, including us, create with the hope that if we like our work, others will too. We strive to make the best film possible, hoping it resonates widely. In big-budget films like Argentina, 1985, with a star like Ricardo Darín and a significant historical subject, expectations and pressures are different. There’s a lot of focus on public interest and reactions, unlike in smaller, more experimental projects. From what I gather, you see being political in cinema akin to Jean-Luc Godard’s style — intricate and thought-provoking rather than direct. Godard addresses political themes uniquely, provoking thought and potentially shifting perspectives, an approach Alejo seems to appreciate. In contrast, mainstream cinema often addresses political themes more straightforwardly. Do you believe films can significantly influence political or social matters, similar to the impact of Godard’s works? I am a great admirer of Bertolt Brecht and his views on theatre’s ability to change the thinking of its audience, to offer new insights. I firmly believe that art, including films, has the potential to influence and alter perspectives. However, the impact of a film hinges on numerous factors, notably the audience’s openness to its form and message. I believe an approach that is personal and unexpected often leaves a more lasting impression. At the same time, reaching a wide audience typically requires substantial marketing and, to some extent, propaganda. Big films can be influential, the same way propaganda can be influential, but I believe that more subtle, hidden, or unexpected elements in filmmaking have a greater capacity to change lives, particular lives. By saying this I mean that I value more a film that is not necessarily addressed to a big audience. But not any film, of course. It’s crucial that the filmmaker is conscious of their intentions and strives to avoid self-deception. Films made in this manner, regardless of their aesthetic, are primed to effect change. So I really do believe that arts can do those kind of things The intention and consciousness behind making a film are crucial. A film created with sincerity and without self-deception can profoundly affect viewers. It’s about creating that perfect encounter between the film and its audience. In that sense I am confident that the films produced by El Pampero can have this kind of impact. How would you compare the directing styles of Laura, Mariano, and Alejo? Working with Laura Citarella was a unique and enjoyable experience, particularly because the character I played had nothing to do with me, was totally different from my real-life persona. It´s a small role, just two scenes, but it was real fun. I portrayed a gym teacher, which was amusingly ironic given my own physical limitations. The scene involved me being in charge of students, but the humorous part was that I, myself, struggle with basic physical tasks. I remember trying to demonstrate an action, like touching my feet, and just not being able to do it, which made for a great laugh on set. (He laughs and tried to show me physically unable to bend and touch his feet!) The Parrot and the Swan Reflecting on Argentine cinema, I find a notable contrast between mainstream and independent productions. While mainstream films like Wild Tales and The Heist of the Century are commendable, I am particularly captivated by the creativity in independent cinema, especially from pioneering directors like Lucrecia Martel and Martín Rejtman. How do you perceive these differing approaches to filmmaking? In your view, what distinguishes the independent cinema scene in Argentina, in terms of creativity and engagement, from more mainstream productions? Interestingly, I had the opportunity to act in Martín Rejtman’s film Two Shots Fired. In the movie, I portrayed one of the characters who plays the flute. Martín Rejtman is a pivotal figure in independent Argentine cinema. He began his career much earlier than many others, including those from El Pampero Cine. In relation to your question, I always try to think that every film is an opportunity, regardless of the production model used. By this I mean that wonderful films can be made following any model. I, myself, feel much at home with the independent low budget way of doing things, which is the way El Pampero works and it is the way that, a priori, interests me the most. But I would be careful not to rule out the production system that is considered more conventional. In all areas there can be surprises May I ask about the financial aspects of working with El Pampero Cine and as an independent artist? You are involved in both independent projects and mainstream cinema. Given that independent films can take years to complete and often don’t attract large audiences, how do you manage the financial side of making these movies? Is it challenging to sustain a living this way? It seems like there might be a mutual understanding within the group not to prioritize financial gain. How does this impact your life, and does it present significant challenges for your living situation? Firstly, it’s important to acknowledge that one does not make a living by acting in or directing independent films or plays in Buenos Aires. Although there might be well-paid contracts for directing plays in official theatres, these opportunities are sporadic and can’t always be relied upon. They often come as a result of recognition in the independent circuit. To sustain oneself while being active in the independent cinema scene or theatre circuit, many of us have secondary jobs. Teaching theatre or film is a common alternative. For instance, Agustín and I, give courses on dramaturgy, playwriting, and scriptwriting. This additional job coexists with our passion for creating movies and plays. In terms of production and financial sustainability, the independent circuit is challenging. However, despite of that, our engagement with the arts is driven by a deep belief in its significance and the need for artistic expression in our lives. Besides, in this community of artists, there is mutual encouragement and support. While some have gained notoriety and started earning through their work, many of us continue primarily out of dedication to the craft. Over time, opportunities like international festivals or teaching invitations might arise, indirectly contributing to our income. If money wasn’t a constraint for your friends in El Pampero Cine — imagine they find a treasure, much like in The Gold Bug, which they didn’t actually find, but let’s entertain the idea — how do you think their movies would change? Would it impact their creative choices, the scale of their projects, or perhaps even the narratives they choose to explore? If El Pampero Cine had more financial resources, there would definitely be some changes, though perhaps not in the fundamental approach to filmmaking. With more money, they could afford better equipment, like higher-quality cameras, which would certainly enhance the technical aspects of the films. Importantly, everyone involved would be paid even better. While everyone does get compensated, it’s often less than what they might earn in other types of film productions, but payments are made when possible, based on trust and understanding of the circumstances. As for how increased funding would change the films themselves, there would likely be investments in scenes requiring higher production value. However, I’m not sure if having more money would drastically alter their overall vision or ideal of what a movie should be. Filmmakers like Alejo and Mariano might not be interested in managing a large crew, as it could potentially limit their freedom, a crucial aspect of their creative process. Laura’s response might be different, but generally, more funds might not necessarily lead to a significant change in the way they approach their art. It’s fascinating to think about the backgrounds of artists. Considering the backgrounds of the filmmakers associated with El Pampero Cine, I’m curious about their socio-economic status and family support. Would you say that most of these filmmakers come from an upper-middle-class segment of Argentine society, which allowed them the opportunity to attend private universities? How much do you think their family support and economic background contributed to their ability to pursue and sustain careers in the independent film industry? I agree with your observation. Many of us (not all) could attend private universities because of our families’ support, and some indeed come from a middle-class or upper-middle-class segment. Or inherited something – I, myself, receive some income from renting out an apartment, which I inherited from my family. However, it’s important to note that not everyone in the independent circuit has similar backgrounds. And in Buenos Aires there are two excellent public universities that teach cinema. Agustín went to one of them, Universidad de Buenos Aires. Walter Jakob, Horacio Marassi & Mariano Llinas I understand that Argentina, like Iran, faces high inflation, impacting all aspects of life, including the arts. In Iran, inflation makes filmmaking particularly challenging for young artists without significant funding. How do artists in Argentina manage under similar economic strain? Yes, inflation is always a factor in our lives, it’s a nightmare for everybody, either you have a steady job or you don´t. I don’t know how a film producer manages this situation, but our experience with theatre plays is always very frustrating. Last year for example we received a prize for a play I was going to direct, when we finally collected the money from the prize, it was only enough for half of the amount we had budgeted. This problem is continuous, and one is forced to always reinvent everything. At the same time, regarding acting, we must not think that working on an independent film or play is just a job. It is above all something that you like a lot, it´s a personal satisfaction. And, as I already said, to carry it out, many have a double life. For example, Horacio Marassi, one of my favourite actors who appeared in Extraordinary Stories and many other Pampero films, only occasionally gets to live of acting, he works as an electrician. What is the most challenging aspect of working with your friends and colleagues in the context of acting and playwriting? It’s interesting because I don’t perceive them merely as professional associates. When discussing El Pampero, I’m actually referring to my personal friends. They’re not just units in a production to me; they’re special individuals in my life. My view of them isn’t idealized – while some people may either adore or dislike them. They are my friends. Very close friends. Almost family. So the challenge is to deal with everything I already know about them. Could you share some insights about your experiences working with other actors and actresses, such as María Villar, in your film projects? What has it been like collaborating with them, and how have their unique styles and approaches contributed to the overall dynamic of the productions you’ve been a part of? I had known María before we worked together on The Little Match Girl, but that project was our first collaboration. María is an exceptional actress. She has the ability to make what is difficult easy. She is sweet, natural and generous. And does not have the ego issues lots of actors have. She is the best actress possible. Reflecting on your experience with El Pampero Cine and your close group of friends, would you say it has changed your perspective on the film industry and collaboration? What have you learned from working with them, and how have you applied these lessons to your collaborations with filmmakers like Santiago? Has your involvement with this group over the past 20 years influenced your view of cinema and the industry as a whole? Well, Pampero Cine is a part of me, I’m so closely connected to its members that I can’t speak of them as if they were a collective that suddenly bumped into my life. They have always been there as I have been there for them. What I can say is that when I don´t work with them I often miss them. Specially Alejo. Lots of times I think about how we would have filmed such and such a scene if I had been filming with him. If I’m involved in a scene that is being shot from every angle, I immediately think “Alejo would have done it with just a couple of shots.” And I also miss Agustín a lot when I´m not working with him. Agustín and I work as a team in theatre, and every time I act, write or direct a play without him, I miss his feedback. As we come to the end of our conversation, I have one final question. Over the years, you’ve been involved in writing and directing, and you’ve built strong connections with many talented individuals in the film industry. Despite your initial inclination to be more in front of the camera rather than behind it, I’m curious: have you ever felt the urge to create your own film? After two decades of rich experiences and forming numerous friendships within this artistic circle, has the idea of directing your own movie ever tempted you? Oh, well, it’s not out of the question at all. It could happen. As of now, I haven’t seriously considered making a movie. I’m not quite sure what it would be like, but it’s not something I would rule out. Up to this point, I haven’t ventured into making any movies, but the possibility remains open.
