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Filmmaker Letter

Filmmaker Letter

El Angel

by director/co-writer Luis Ortega

As a child, I felt admiration for people who were willing to die before playing by somebody else’s rules. While I wasn’t interested in anyone who wasn’t a menace, I also developed a contempt towards good-hearted people who were giving in (like myself), surrendering their honesty for fear of being an outcast. So when freedom came my way I devoured it to the doors of insanity. In part because I felt I had been ripped off most of my life. Reality was the big rip off, and to me, mortality was part of that lie.

In the midst of this confusion, films were going in my system, two or three per day. I believed them to be as real as the sky and the sea. I never thought there was a script, a producer, a director or such a thing as an actor playing a part. They were the flower of my solitude. The only thing I really believed in.

By the time I realized films were staged, I had also touched a dead body for the first time. Felt the cold and the ridiculous aspect of it all. Then I became interested in the gimmick. It all happened at the same time. A strange feeling that everything was staged brought a sense of religion and paranoia that left me useless. This childish obsession with representation intoxicated real life events. It became fate or fiction. A new way of believing in God that was influenced by films.

The youngster is always the new danger. He is the figure who defies with innocence and at the same time a strange sense of his own unknown knowledge.

I grew up with a legend about this very beautiful boy that looked like Marilyn Monroe, was a robber and ended up being Argentina’s most famous serial killer. The press sold him like an icon and since his acts had no motives they attributed the crimes to the fact he was gay.

This is not a biopic. This is not his story nor the recounts of his acts, but I can’t deny it was not inspired by his disturbing public appearance. Though I must say, even more by my own childhood and the tradition of the film experience.

In an American way of speaking cinema, this is the son of The Night of The Hunter, Bonnie and Clyde, Badlands, Rumble Fish, Gummo, Drugstore Cowboy and many other films that have given me a sense of beauty, duty, and sacrifice. My sincere wish is to live up to this tradition.

Whoever is looking for reality or mere violence must look somewhere else.

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