The settings unfold, seemingly devoid of human presence. Dialogues emerge, conveyed through a type of humor resonating with a certain memetic culture that influences the text/image relationship. Despite the emptiness, life persists.

A thief, suddenly distracted by the sight of a papier-mâché statue with an enigmatic face, is caught in a trap and kidnapped by the owner of the place he was attempting to rob – the sprinkled sprinkler. This premise may be as old as cinema itself, but it feels anything but outdated in Nguyễn Lê Hoàng Phúc's unusual vision. The astonishment continues when the host makes a very particular request of his captive: he wants to join his wife—whose mummified body is hidden inside the strange statue. Absurdly tender, Bury Us in a Lone Desert begins like this, a playful and colorful version of Taste of Cherry (Abbas Kiarostami, 1997).

Adapting Beckett requires submission to a rejection of narrative, making the impasse one's own. It also draws from a fertile ground that inspires freedom and tragedy alike. Adapted from the play Endgame (1957), which features four characters with varying physical disabilities, the latest film from the El Pampero Cine collective (La flor; Trenque Lauquen) plays on the idea of ​​Beckettian stupor and repetition, reflecting with melancholy on our sterile world. Before the immensity of Lake Geneva, a blind man and his servant ramble on and persist in their musings. A pair of actors discover each other romantically as they learn their lines. An elderly woman awaits her son, playing Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata on the piano. A couple lives in a dumpster near the hub where political decisions are plotted. And finally, two daring filmmakers film trains, moons, because… when the horizon is absurd, creation takes on its full meaning.