We have come back from Mar del Plata to attend to the press for two days in the capital. Today we finished the Argentine promotion, and tomorrow the movie is officially released in the Argentine cinemas. Maybe Lisandro and I will drop by some theatres to see if the projection is good. After the half-disastrous projection offered yesterday to the Buenos Aires journalists, when the Spanish subtitles for the Danish spoken in Jauja
didn´t show on the screen, we want to make sure that the film is well presented on the day it's first released in Buenos Aires. The distributors were not in the room yesterday, and we only realised the mistake with the subtitles when we came in halfway through the movie. Those things happen, I guess. Tonight I'm going to watch the Copa Argentina final between Huracán and Rosario Central. As I've been saying for the last few weeks, it seems to me the Quemeros can win it. I hope they do. Tomorrow River and Boca are playing to determine who´s going to the Copa Sudamericana
final against Medellín. I think the Gallinas are going to win. If Boca wins, I think that the millionaire barras
will burn Nuñez. Lisandro and his family live a few blocks from the Monumental [tr. note: River´s stadium], so I don't want that. It has been an abysmal week for River, with the death of Gallardo's mother, the defeat against Racing (with the loss of the national tournament as a likely consequence,) and the unforgivable violent confrontation between two barras bravas
from the club in the Monumental's pastry shop. The Gallinas cannot lose. It would be such an unfair outcome like the tournament they stole from Huracán in 2009, when that team managed by Ángel Cappa, like Gallardo's River is now, was clearly the one playing better soccer in Argentina. The barra
thing is really disgraceful and even worse, the headline that I just read in the Porteño
newspaper about the brawling of this extremely violent, unpunished element; it said something like "River considers prohibiting entrance to the barrabravas." As if that were something to debate! What the fuck are they waiting for? Come on, government, come on, Cristina and come on, members of Parliament, you motherfuckers! They ought to put all these brutes who attack and steal in jail. Prohibiting them entrance to any stadium in this country is something obvious. It should be more than obvious that these shameless people cannot be allowed to go to matches!
I'm flying to Madrid now. I'm sending you something here that appeared recently in the Spanish newspaper El Pais
about the chronic problem of the Argentine barrabravas
I'm very glad about what we were able to achieve together, Fabián. Jauja
has not only stimulated a lot of interest in Mar del Plata, with three screenings filling the large Piazzolla room completely, but the exchange with the audience members was a very positive experience. I felt proud of our film and very glad for Lisandro. He took me to Ezeiza to catch the flight to Madrid. Before going there, we went to the theatre in Caballito to see how the audience left the screening. The theatre people let us in to see the last 15 minutes. It was incredible to see the movie there, in a public theatre. I thought about how it would have been for me if I were 18 years old or so, if I were thinking of being an actor or director or scriptwriter, seeing Lisandro Alonso's singularly beautiful story for the first time. I think I would have loved it, that it would have stimulated me, that I would have gone home to write something, to want to create something. Jauja
is a work of art that invites you to dream. There weren't many people in the room, but almost everyone left with a somewhat distant, pensive look. We thanked them for having come to see the film and we left. Before getting on the freeway, I asked him if we could go along Avenida La Plata between Inclán and Las Casas so I could spit in front of Carrefour, as I always try to do when I arrive in Buenos Aires and before leaving. Although the Return to Boedo is now almost a reality, until the new stadium exists, I'm not going to stop spitting in front of what was the Gasómetro. No need to slack off, Cuervo.