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Un archivo posible

Director:

Rocío Llambí

Producer:

Eugenia Olascuaga

Production company:

Monarca Films - Migranta Films

Production country:

Uruguay - Spain

Duration in minutes:

75

Sinopsys:

“A Possible Archive” is an essay that delves into catalogs as spaces of power and omission. Under a single code are classified the outtakes of a documentary film, revealing fragments of an untold story. Images of three trans women filmed in the 1980s—Fátima, Paqui, and Vicky—captured and discarded. Documents that record the persecution of the LGBT community during the dictatorship in Uruguay. The extraction of amethysts, a Uruguayan mineral, is now exhibited in a European natural history museum. What narratives remain trapped within their classifications? How might another possible archive be imagined?

Long Sinopsys

In an empty, dark space lit by four lamps swaying from the ceiling, scattered objects appear and disappear: four VHS tapes, an amethyst engraved with the words “R.O.U URUGUAY,” a photograph of three girls embracing, and a shimmering dress folded upon itself. Two female voices list items from a film catalog and a mineral catalog.

 

Four VHS tapes are stored in Uruguay’s national film archive. They are the discarded reels of the documentary “Yo la Más Tremendo”, directed by Aldo Garay and filmed in Montevideo in the 1990s. The archivist plays the footage: political campaigns, street scenes, a collapsed house. Among the discarded footage are images of FÁTIMA (39), PAQUI (56), and VICKY (17) — three trans women celebrating with others. The archivist catalogs them under the code “ASM-MS-AG-C02-0054.”

 

A group of petrology researchers transports a large amethyst for study. The stone, labeled and coded “MGB-PR-13461,” is taken to the laboratory where they examine it with magnifiers and take samples. Later, they carry it into an exhibition room at a Natural Sciences museum in Spain, placing it behind glass beside other stones from various Latin American countries, under the motto: “CATALOG TO KNOW.”

A petrology researcher cuts a stone in half with a saw, revealing bright violet crystals inside. She explains that to know the truth about a territory, one must look into the interior of a rock. Through the microscope, the crystals move like a galaxy. A rupture in the image opens the narrative.

 

Diverse archives begin to intertwine: propaganda footage of mining extraction during the dictatorship, military documents of terror, and a police magazine from that same era that described homosexual and trans people as “inverts,” “exhibitionists,” “deviants.” Meanwhile, in the discarded footage, Fátima, Paqui, and Vicky recount how they had to hide, how they were treated as sick, and how they couldn’t gather during the day. Then, the girls dancing together, celebrating, finding companionship in community.

The director’s voice begins to weave these universes together, questioning what lies concealed within catalogs, organic matter, and archives.

 

From the present, Fátima makes an invocation: she activates the four overhead spotlights and the objects as she speaks of each one. The archival spaces begin to fracture: military documents dissolve into unreadable stains, propaganda reels into decayed organic matter. The discarded images resurface with the girls speaking of the future they long for.

Creative Process

“To speculate safely about a livable future, we might do well to look for a crack in a rock and step back.
Ursula K. Le Guin

 

VISUAL TREATMENT

“A Possible Archive” is an experimental documentary essay that explores filmic, scientific, and affective archives to interrogate the value of what is preserved, what is discarded, and what persists as bodily and political memory.

 

The film is sustained through editing that generates crossings of spaces, histories, and materialities, which find a shared narrative and are bound together through an essayistic voice. This voice is centered on my personal memory and on the poetic–political associations established among the elements.

 

The structure proposed by the film resembles an archaeological method: it begins with what is most macro—museums and archival institutions—and moves inward through those archives, arriving at their microscopy and at a narrative that is not concerned with remains, but with memory.

 

ARCHIVAL SPACES

The film traces a parallel between archives in petrology and film archives to find their correspondences in the preservation and classification criteria. Archival spaces are presented as cemeteries. Their interiors are intensified through the use of cold lighting and wide shots of these large, highly organized spaces. Shelves, corridors, lighting, and shadows are all part of the clinical atmospheres of the archives.

 

INSIDE THE ARCHIVES, THE FISSURE

The film explores how archival institutions begin to fissure to move us into the archive interiors. Here, discarded VHS materials appear, along with the rock that opens, exposing its microscopic interior.

There is a decision to retain those shots in which actions are repeated, or the shots in which Aldo asks questions or gives directions to the women in the discarded VHS footage, where Fátima, Paqui, and Vicky appear. An off-screen space begins to emerge, representing that context and suggesting a pre-existing, discarded image.

 

Historical documents linked to Uruguay’s military dictatorship are also presented through the deterioration of the filmic material support. For example, fungus on the celluloid, glitches inherent to VHS, and poor-quality digitization. In the same way, I am interested in exploring the fragmentation of documents of terror: the cutting, the isolated words, the microscopy of the documents, the condition of the ink, and the paper. Visual elements such as magnifying glasses help to focus, fragment, and deform those discourses within the documents of terror in which gender-dissident bodies are pathologized.

 

STAGING

The sequence of the lamps is a staging inspired by the installative and unfolds throughout the course of the film. It relates to an act of conjuring and evocation, in contrast to the ideal of rational science that orders and “illuminates” certain kinds of knowledge. This sequence is constructed within a large scenic space foregrounding the idea of staging, and it will be shot on 16mm, as this format reveals an image that is more aleatory and less controlled.

 

SOUND TREATMENT

Sound is a key narrative device: hums, mechanical sounds, glitches, tactile noises of celluloid or of a stone being cut. The whispered voices of the archivists, the petrology researcher, and Fátima’s voice intertwine with the sounds of the archives as if they were geological layers of a single time.

 

There are situations in which contact microphones are used to transmit the tactile sound of the materials, especially in the first part of the film. In these situations, the microphone device placed on a rock or on a strip of celluloid will be visible on screen, as yet another means of surrounding these archives.

Director's note

The first images that appeared before me were the four discarded VHS tapes. In those files, there are images of Montevideo just emerging from the dictatorship, covered in political campaigns, social demonstrations, and scenes of a group of travesti-trans and gay people celebrating a birthday. Within these recordings, one can sense an atmosphere of fear, but also perceive how the community could with everything: closeness, friendship, support, and love among friends. There is an intimacy that moves me every time I watch these images: the embrace between Paqui and Fátima, Vicky’s silences, them dancing in the living room of the house in Capurro, and speculating about how they want to live their future.

 

After some time, these images were catalogued by a governmental association in Uruguay. Within that archival collection, none of the videos can be viewed, and all that describes their content is a code that classifies each of those images.

 

It is at this moment that I begin to question the spaces of power held by institutions to name, discard, and archive. I start to ask myself how an image, a stone, or a collective memory is catalogued. Is it even possible?

 

I am especially interested in working with film archives from different origins, and I understand them as drifts that grant access to a re-signification and a restitution of power to those images, allowing us to rewrite the past, the present, and the future. Particularly when archives speak about the LGBTIQ+ community, they usually do so from positions of pathologization and marginalization.

 

The question that motivates me is how, through the revision of archives, it is possible to rewrite the past and speculate on another future. I do not want to make an image visible; I want that image to rebel and exceed itself, to break free from the imposed discursive limits.


As part of the LGTBIQ+ community, I feel that today, more than ever,

we need imagination and memory within our artistic, social, and political contexts, especially due to the wave of the far right that is currently asserting itself forcefully through its discourses of hate.

 

For this reason, I have the desire to make cinema from a political and poetic standpoint, one that brings memory, fiction, and the fabulation of other possible futures into relation to create new narratives.

Director

Rocío Llambí

Film editor with a degree in Audiovisual Communication from Universidad ORT (Uruguay) and a postgraduate diploma in Video Editing from Universitat Pompeu Fabra (Barcelona). Her work explores the intersection of archival practices and processes of re-signification, with a focus on themes of sexuality and diversity. She has directed several short films, including “Al Rojo Vivo”, which premiered at DocsBarcelona, received the Doc-U Prize (2025), and was selected for the Málaga Film Festival, among others; and “Soy una Lesbiana de Este País”, which premiered at QueerCineMad 2025 and received an award at the Detour Film Festival (Uruguay, 2025). She has also worked as an editor on fiction and non-fiction short films, documentary series, and feature-length documentaries, including “No Todas las Niñas” (directed by Carolina Astudillo Muñoz, produced by Isolda Films) and “Perkal, la Memoria de un Nombre” (directed by Paola Perkal, produced by Monarca Films). https://rociollambi.cargo.site/

MSV_2024

Producer

Eugenia Olascuaga

Audiovisual producer based in Uruguay. She was selected to participate in international training programmes: EAVE Slate Company Planning at When East Meets West 2025, Open Doors Locarno Film Festival 2023, Sundance Producers Labs and Summit 2021, and Talents Buenos Aires 2018. In 2011, she cofounded the production company Monarca Films specializing in auteur cinema with a focus on gender and LGBTQ+ themes, they produced the doucmentaries: Para no olvidar (Visions du Réel 2023), Delia (Málaga 2022), Ocho cuentos sobre mi hipoacusia (Sundance, Vancouver IFF, FIDBA), among others. https://www.monarcafilms.com.uy/

TEASER:

UAP_2025

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