An Argentine film released 26 years ago returned to memory and cinema thanks to a documentary. The original 76 89 03 rolls back in 76 89 23. Its numbers allude to very significant dates: the military dictatorship, the rise of Menem and the arrival of Néstor Kirchner to the presidency. Until then, filmmakers of good advertising films, Flavio Nardini and Cristian Bernard created a debut film that, at the time, was talked about a lot, but over the years it gained recognition. The most recent, the documentary that reviews and highlights it. Probably not even its directors sensed that the path, until becoming an object of devotion, was going to be what it was. To say that a slogan during the launch was: “The first Argentine film that has no message.” And boy does it have messages, symbolized in that trio of annoying, arrogant and dilettante friends.
In ’76, poor Dino is expelled from the religious school he attends, when a teacher catches him masturbating in a bathroom. Meanwhile, in his father’s mechanical workshop, Salvador listens to some advice: “You know, don’t talk about politics with anyone.” Meanwhile, the father appropriates a Torino, which was left without an owner for, at that time, easily imaginable reasons. In ’89, the boys already grew up in a bizarre and losing Argentina in which they were poorly educated in prejudiced schools and modeled on every man for himself. In 03, prisoners of Argentina’s depressing circularity arrive, and in 2003 it tries to recover from its umpteenth hyperinflation. The other two and poor Paco (or Lame), are, according to another promotional phrase, “three guys who don’t deserve a movie.” Although they had it. That a film released more than a quarter of a century ago continues to generate controversy and debate reveals that it must have activated keys to our behaviors that we do not always like to admit as our own.
The documentary by Federico Benoit and Ezequiel Mendoza is titled 76 89 23 and not only does it tell an attractive and consistent story, but it also speaks of what cinema is capable of generating. An activity of enormous importance and that in our country is, like so many other areas of the cultural industry, savagely stigmatized. From there the 23 of the title speaks, a representative number of the current country, tolerant of many of our worst errors. The numerous interventions of the main characters (also the secondary ones) towards the least luminous part of the national DNA are judged, praised or repudiated by a court of observers. In 76 89 23 they provide testimonies from the directors and performers, producers (one who had to do with the film, states that he “lost everything”), technicians, critics, journalists. Some scenes from the film deserve to be included in the unpublished anthology of Argentine cinema, along with other gems such as Waiting for the float, Sweet silver, Wild horses either nine queens. Starting with the moment in which the great Claudio Rissi (1956-2024), creates a king of the night, abuser of a 12-year-old girl, unscrupulous, violent and addicted: continuing with the formidable bitching that Dino dedicates in the ear to Zárate (character played by Luis Albornoz) after he pockets an atch full of dollars or, perhaps, merchandise. In a timeless morning, Paco (Diego Mackenzie, 1964-2001) goes through his last night as a bachelor. He is about to marry someone he calls “the fat one” and whom he does not love. His cronies, Salvador (Gerardo Chendo) and Dino (Sergio Baldini) prepare a little sexual party for him with a famous model called Wanda Manera and in which they also dream of leaking. It is likely that the meeting will never be consummated, but – friends are friends – they end up in the street singing, with Guantanamera’s music, “Wanda Ramera” and at times “Wanda Petera”. In the end, these failed heroes, petty thieves, are left with nothing.
The documentary recovers these and other situations and does not refrain from showing admiration for the film and bravely highlighting the fact that, at its time, some of the critics punished it too much. This fundamentalism was the origin of failures, wasted efforts and cancellations. In this case, Benoit and Mendoza bring it as a valuable wake-up call. I agree with them: I can say this because, when I was young, in my beginnings, I was one of those irreverent killjoys who was unaware that realizing any artistic fact – especially a film – was the product of multiple efforts and that this – Nardini slips it into the documentary – could end up truncating a career. Seen from today, the film has a sad relevance. And the documentary reaffirms that same impression.
A film that is as political as it is incorrect, tragicomic, as fun and provocative as it is, it leaves a kind of canon written throughout the film, an inevitable element of discussion. They are phrases that are interspersed and that form a forceful opinion, as if they were saying, this is the cinema we like to make and don’t count on us to do anything else. The decalogue is like this: 1) There will be no cumbias anywhere in the film; 2) There must be verbal violence; 3) No character will be able to say shit; 4) There has to be conflict. Contemplation or non-conflict is prohibited; 5) There should be no line drop; 6) No character will act as “should” but as “is”; 7) No character will drink mate, nor will a kettle of mate be shown heating up on a stove; 8) The protagonists will not be good and noble workers or laborers. They will be three middle class young people; 9) The protagonists do not deserve a movie: they are sexist, racist, miserable; 10) There will be no good and noble secondary characters. A Buenos Aires bestiary will be shown.
Between astonishments and contradictions, bewilderments, challenges and searches, 76 89 03 and 78 89 23 They prove, once again, that the order of the factors does not alter the product. The product is a country that every so often stumbles over the same stone, and falls and it hurts. Both can be seen together on July 2 at the York cinema in Olivos. «
