Address: carlos vermouth
artists: Nacho Sanchez, Zoe Stein, Catalina Sopelana
Premiere: December 9, 2022
The film directed by carlos vermouth may appear to be straightforward in theme at first glance, yet its true power lies in the tension it creates between what is shown and what sits just beneath the surface. It examines a world where quiet, almost unspoken uncertainties creep into the margins of the story, and where characters who seem peripheral reveal themselves as central to the drama. This is evident in the arc of Diamond Flash, in the intimate fever of Who will sing to you, and most fully in the ambitious centerpiece, The Magic Girl. It is in these works that Vermut proves he can mine discomfort without surrendering the viewer to easy conclusions, letting ambiguity do the heavy lifting.
Near the core of this creative exploration lies a project that pushes beyond stylistic boundaries. The narrative complexity is not merely a matter of plot twists; it is a deliberate delving into moral ambiguity and a geography that feels turbulent and unsettled. There are no neat theses to cling to; instead, the film invites contemplation of its own contradictions. At the heart of the drama is a young, celebrated video game designer whose past casts a long shadow. The performance by Nacho Sanchez anchors the film, portraying a character who wrestles with isolation and personal frailty while navigating the pressures of success. The storytelling respects the audience enough to trust that viewers will hold the tension instead of wanting every problem neatly resolved.
The film draws strength from its core relationship, where hope flickers through the dynamics between the designer and the woman at the center of the story. The interplay with Zoe Stein fuels the narrative with a sense of immediacy, a pushback against the discomfort that the film so confidently inhabits. Vermut does not try to provoke for provocation’s sake; instead he creates a mood, a texture, a way of looking at human connection that feels both intimate and unnerving. The result is a work that lingers long after the screen goes dark, inviting conversation about how people confront pain, vulnerability, and the sometimes brutal edges of power.
What sets this film apart is its willingness to reveal the rougher edges of human relationships. The director treats intercom sequences and other intense moments with a careful, almost clinical precision that underscores the fragility of trust. The ending leaves room for interpretation, casting a shadow that keeps the viewer thinking well beyond the final frame. It is not a flashy, sensational conclusion but a thoughtful one that resonates with the film’s core questions about identity, accountability, and the cost of ambition. Vermut’s approach here is quiet but fearless, presenting a world where consequences are real and the line between vulnerability and risk is never clearly drawn.
In this way Vermut crafts something more than a simple drama. The tension comes from a balance between empathy and unease, a delicate interplay that challenges the audience to confront uncomfortable truths about desire and power. The performances stabilize the narrative’s restless energy, giving weight to moments of stillness that feel almost sculpted in the moment. As the story unfolds, the audience is drawn into a landscape where every decision matters, and every pause holds meaning. The film operates like a camera that lingers on a doorway a little too long, inviting us to imagine what might be behind it and why it matters now. The result is a memorable experience that refuses easy classification and rewards viewers who stay curious and attentive.