The jungle, sure, or something like that. I’d only been told that we were going to Tigre, somewhere north of Buenos Aires. Without knowing what Tigre was, we would be spending two days there, then returning by boat, which sounded like the perfect trip. With one exception: you can’t even imagine what it’s like to film a long take with a hoard of mosquitoes nibbling at your arms. There’s nothing on how to deal with this in film manuals. It made everything a little less glorious.
Polaco Sunshine’s music is near indescribable, music that picks up on everything around it. Instrumental music that opens narrative possibilities. In that era I was seeking out emerging paths in music, and this film with Polaco was my first attempt at discovering a new religion. Or, kind of. So, then, an abstract wander in the JUNGLE, seeking out the soul of our surroundings, which lead to Calitshatski, a curious character who lives alone in the wild, and the Argentine musicians who went to him from time to time to build on their imaginations.
Filming nature is impossible. Evoking it is even harder, its soul taking you over, and its sounds, intense but mostly invisible. There’s no point but to pretend that the mosquitoes are rare visible manifestations of this spirit, to rejoice in them. And we can forget our fluctuating plans a little longer to say that we believe.