In a Masterclass that filled a 600-seat auditorium at the Bogotá Audiovisual Market (BAM), Argentina’s Lucrecia Martel (“La Cienaga,” “Zama”) stood for an hour, despite using a cane. “I look more like a shepherd angel than a filmmaker,” she quipped, adding that she was in the middle of a shoot but couldn’t resist BAM’s invitation.
“There’s something very interesting you’re doing here in Colombia, which is placing a strong emphasis on training in the field of production and encouraging critical reflection on production itself. That’s something we failed to do, and now we Argentinians are trying to make up for it in our work. It brings up something uncomfortable when we start talking about it – this idea of ‘industry,’ because it generates jobs, because there should be – or could be – public policies to support it,” she asserted.
Checking her notes in a leather-bound book, she ticked off her myriad concerns: the environmental crisis, AI, the hegemony of streaming platforms, mobile phones, the rhetoric of Trump and the American far-right and insomnia.
“Look where we’ve ended up – with a planet that’s one step away from collapse. I don’t know if you’re aware, but there’s a part of this talk that’s depressing. It’s the first hour. Too bad it lasts a whole hour. The second hour was all joy—that’s scheduled for next year,” she teased.
“There are irreversible processes: the simulations, ocean acidification, the thawing of permafrost… It’s like all the mammoths trapped in the ice are almost ready to reappear. And in the deepest trenches of the ocean, they’re finding tiny creatures—like transparent cockroaches or just weird bugs—that already have microplastics inside them. We didn’t even know they existed, and they already knew about us – through our microplastics,” she lamented.
Expanding on the theme of the event, she mused: “Why do we make films? What is culture for? As soon as we start talking about culture, everyone suddenly sits up straighter, speaks more seriously, as if we’ve entered the realm of something sacred and essential. It becomes a solemn topic. So here’s my theory about culture: Culture is an ecological form of warfare.”
She cited Hollywood’s explosive growth during wartime. “Up until then, it was European cinema that led production. But during the wars, the U.S. ramped up its output massively—and suddenly, the whole world became its market,” she reflected.
“All the institutions that supported the war effort – including the media departments – had a vested interest in cinema, because film was the medium through which heroic values were transmitted. It helped construct the narrative that the “right side” of the world was the West, and that within the West, the United States held supremacy.
And they succeeded. And they did it with films that were – let’s admit it – brilliant. ‘Casablanca,’ for example,” she continued.
“So, when we talk about culture, let’s not act like we’re automatically the good guys. Culture isn’t inherently good. It’s only good if it’s not trying to impose absolute dominance – whether it’s traditional values or, let’s say, non-binary, fluid, polyamorous values. If you aim to make any value system hegemonic, you end up in the same place: tiny cockroach-like creatures at the bottom of the ocean, with microplastics in their brains,” she pointed out.
Adding to her worries about the current state of the global film industry, she noted: “We used to worry because six or seven major companies controlled theatrical distribution around the world. Getting a film released was nearly impossible. That used to be the big concern. But now we’re down to just one—maybe two—countries, with a few platforms that are essentially producing and preserving the entire world’s audiovisual output.”
“And yes, I know—someone will say, “But wait, we have Netflix Latin America!”
I apologize in advance. I truly don’t mean to offend anyone here. But I’d love to ask: Does Netflix Latin America actually respond to the interests of Latin America?”
“Because let’s be honest: Netflix is a U.S. company. Naturally, they have their own vision, their own interests. Now someone will say, ‘But what about ‘Roma,’ in black and white?”
Sure. Every now and then, you have to release a prisoner,” she said slyly.
Reflecting on the advent of AI, she noted: “In recent years, we’ve been hit with this extraordinary phenomenon of artificial intelligence—with all its apps and tools—and what it’s triggered is a brutal acceleration of time. And the feeling, at least in Argentina, is pretty clear: there’s not a single conversation where this doesn’t come up.”
“It’s the anxiety of becoming obsolete,” she mused.
She also lamented the paucity of budgets in Latin America. “Poverty is the reality of our continent. It’s not an exception—it’s the condition,” she pronounced, “We have to think about filmmaking from that place, not fantasize about something else.”
She cited one exception in Colombia, Netflix’s “One Hundred Years of Solitude.” “Let’s see how many more times that happens. Probably another hundred years before we see a budget like that again,” she scoffed.
Ending on a positive note, she proposed: “Let’s invent the future – with cinema, with literature, with theater, with whatever form – with the micro-stories on social media, or with the endless, eternal macro-stories of the platforms. Let’s imagine a future where, a hundred years from now, things are at least a little better. And that work—that responsibility to invent the future—is not something you do while crying.”
She also added that it was folly to depend on government handouts.
“As I said before – if culture means imposing ourselves on others, then it’s not really culture. It’s just war in a sweeter form. But it’s still war. If what we truly want is to invent a future, then we have the possibility to do it.”
BAM kicked off on July 14 and wraps on July 18.
Lucrecia Martel, Courtesy of BAM
