It was the panel discussion after the screening of ‘La mujer sin cabeza’ (The Headless Woman.) I’d seen La Ciénaga (The Swamp) by Lucrecia Martel a couple of years back when internet was once a week affair and my understanding of the director was restricted to the description accompanying the festival’s line-up and an odd paper about Argentinian films.

Until she spoke about her film after the screening, my reactions to the film were simple delight and want to watch again. I often cannot say much beyond inanities like ‘I liked it,’ ‘it was fun,’ or ‘what a sad waste of efforts’ as I leave the film screening. I take my own sweet time wondering about it and playing things that struck me over and over in my mind before I can say something lucid. Here, as she was talking about the film and answering questions, there ensued an interesting discussion on film.

About the songs in the film:  “The film is quite anachronistic that wa


Now, if only I could read spanish, her sweet note to me would make more sense apart from my crude translation of a part of it– wish you luck in your career.

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