“Se acabó la épica is a documentary that recovers and depicts some fragments from the life of Néstor Sánchez, as well as his literary beginnings, his journeys across Europe, his life in the US and his return to Argentina. These fragments come forward through testimonies of people who were related to his personal life and to his writings,” says documentary-maker Matilde Michanie (Judíos por elección) about her new film released yesterday.
Often praised by no less than famed writer Julio Cortázar, and yet little known to general readers (and not so general too), Néstor Sánchez was born in 1935 in the neighborhood of Villa Pueyrredón in Buenos Aires and died in 2003 at the age of 68. His literature was characterized by experimental techniques, a nervous and introspective gaze on the many layers of the city where he was born, a strongly poetic and musical edge (jazz was a great influence), and a sense of ongoing discovery.
Through his literature, he would pose profound existential queries, which were also part of his everyday life. For him, his personal life and his literature were indivisible, an essential whole to be examined time and again. Even with the pain caused by his psychiatric disorders, Néstor Sánchez kept writing more than anyone would have anticipated.
So it’s no good news that Se acabó la épica runs into a corner at this point: its subject matter is far more interesting than its film form. Which is to say that the film is inconsequential, at best. It’s not a total mess, but sometimes it gets so flat that time seems to stand still.
Of all choices, Michanie goes for some that are quite unimaginative and overused. She resorts to largely, anecdotic, and little revelatory testimonies to the camera provided by his ex wife, his son, his psychoanalysts, friends and colleagues. More often that not, said testimonies are just informative, as though you were listening to someone reading a run- of-the-mill biography.
There’s also a voiceover meant to be Sánchez’s, reciting snippets from his oeuvre in a rehearsed and artificial manner. And there are several merely illustrative images of the places the writer visited in his life, which add almost nothing to the overall portrayal.
As regards aesthetics, Se acabó la épica bears pretty much the same flaws found in Michanie’s previous film, Judíos por elección. That is to say, it’s scarcely cinematic: the cinematography is unexpressive, the editing fails to create an engaging rhythm (though, to be fair, the root of the problem lies in the narrative), and the music is played in a very, very formulaic manner. Perhaps the sole asset lies in unveiling many unknown slices of life and bringing to the present the figure of an almost unknown, yet gifted writer.
