Pinamar

Landscape and setting can play just as an important part in stories as the characters and actions, Getschow said. This is a great example. The movie was shot completely in Pinamar. So you must know the fact that set Pinamar apart from most of the other Argentine beach cities: it has been artificially turned from wild sand dunes into a forest (mostly of pine trees, which explains the "pina" in the town's name and "mar" that means sea). Watching the movie you will understand what we mean. The human characters: Two brothers with a very different view, a perspective of the world that touches the limits when they get out of the city to immerse in a forest with a sea.There's grief, there's a love history; an identity conflict and some social comments about how "city people" see this little place with so much nature around. I recommend you to watch it without knowing much more about it. Try to experience the same slow motion you perceive when we are in contact with nature. when have when we disconnect of mundane urban life. When sand, rain, trees and friends its everything you need to feel alive and get through the losses of life. Could be better this film in terms of development character or production? probably. But I think that's not important. When you have the great direction of Federico Godfrid, the struggle we see in the performance of Juan Grandinetti & Violeta Palukas, you have all you need to connect again with nature. All this with a superb cinematography and art direction. Plus the gorgeous music on hand drums of Sebastián Espósito & Daniel Godfrid. I Had lived half or my adult life between Pinamar and the capital and most populous city of Argentina. So I was mesmerized that someone could portray so well the differences between this two worlds. Mariano Sinestesia. https://www.facebook.com/apreciamos

Summary

It has been a long time since I saw a movie (or series) that tackled the well-traveled subject of grief and brotherhood so well. This remarkable film by Federico Godfrid demonstrates once again the power of the image and the ineffable character of emotion, which assails us suddenly and powerfully in several scenes, anticipating any rationalization.

Review

Two young brothers arrive in Pinamar out of season to spread their mother's ashes in the sea and conclude the sale of the family apartment, while they are reunited with Laura, the daughter of the building goalie, a friend from their childhood.

The two brothers couldn't be more different. Pablo, the oldest (Lucas Grandinetti), is quiet, responsible and practical, while Miguel (Agustín Pardella) is outgoing and playful. The counterpoint between the two will be essential for the dynamics of the film.

It has been a long time since I have seen a film that tackles so well the well-traveled subject of grief and brotherly bond, in a world of young people without adults. The screenwriter Lucía Möller has perfectly understood the power of gestures and that relatives should not spend all their time talking about their loss and how they feel about it (as is so common in so many current movies and series) since many times those who do it They do not put it into words. And that it is often external events, large or small, that force them to unleash their dormant mechanisms. On the other hand, the articulation of mourning with fraternal dynamics is exemplary.

Exponent of an almost subgenre, that of the Buenos Aires beaches as a field of rethinking and changes (Bromance, also with Pardella, An Ocean Blue, High Tide), this remarkable film by Federico Godfrid demonstrates once again the power of the image (from the great photography of Fernando Locket) and the ineffable character of emotion, which assails us suddenly and powerfully in several scenes, anticipating any rationalization. This also happens because Pinamar squanders spontaneity (the fruit of careful planning and rehearsals) in the remarkable performances of Grandinetti, Pardella and an endearing Violeta Palukas, whose Laura is a living echo of the past of the brothers now turned woman.

Pinamar is a resort town on the Argentine Atlantic coast 300 km southeast from Buenos Aires. Unlike other Argentine balnearies it it is a planned city where part of the wild sand dunes have been artificially turned into pine forests (hence half the name; the other half is mar = sea).

In the first scene we see twentysomething brothers Pablo and Miguel driving from Buenos Aires to Pinamar, an urn on the back seat. We learn later that the urn contains the ashes of their mother, that the brothers plan to scatter in the ocean. The other reason of their trip is to finish the details of the sale of the family condominium. Pablo is introverted, with a seemingly grim take on life; Miguel is the opposite, full of jokes and silliness and seems to enjoy annoying Pablo. There is a tension between the brothers that seems to exceed the natural tension between siblings. As they arrive they reconnect with Laura, daughter of the manager of their apartment building, who was a friend of both when the family spent their summers in Pinamar. Their relation is rekindled and old feelings resurface, tempered by years of separate experiences. The backdrop is Pinamar, dormant in winter; streets without traffic, interminable deserted beaches and equally deserted pine woods. Contact with Laura finally leads to a reevaluation of the brothers' plans.

I liked this movie with reservations. In this kind of film we do not expect flashbacks or detailed explanations, but at least enough snatches of dialog or visuals for a reconstruction, however partial, of the characters' past and its influence on their present feelings and actions. That we don't get; at the end we know little more about the three that we knew at the beginning. This is Federico Godfrid's first solo work (he previously codirected the enchanting La Tigra, Chaco in 2009 with Juan Saslaín). He is supported by excellent cinematography and acting is first rate. In spite of objections, the movie deserves a watch.