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The Official Story (Spanish: La historia oficial) is a 1985 Argentine drama historical film directed by Luis Puenzo and written by Puenzo and Aída Bortnik. It stars Norma Aleandro, Héctor Alterio, Chunchuna Villafañe and Hugo Arana. In the United Kingdom, it was released as The Official Version.[1][2] The film deals with the story of an upper middle class couple who lives in Buenos Aires with an illegally adopted child. The mother comes to realize that her daughter may be the child of a desaparecida, a victim of the forced disappearances that occurred during Argentina's last military dictatorship (1976–1983), which saw widespread human rights violations and a genocide.[3][4][5] Among several other international awards, it won the Oscar for Best Foreign Language Film at the 58th Academy Awards.[6] Contents 1 Plot 2 Cast 3 Background 4 Production 5 Distribution 6 Video release 7 Critical response 7.1 Awards 7.1.1 Wins 7.1.2 Nominations 8 See also 9 References 10 External links Plot[edit] The film is set in Argentina in 1983, in the last year of the country's last military dictatorship, during which a campaign of state-sponsored terrorism produced thousands of killings and torture of accused political leftists and innocents alike, who were buried in unmarked graves or became desaparecidos. Alicia Maquet, a high school history teacher, and her husband, Roberto Ibañez, a government official, live in Buenos Aires with their adopted daughter, Gaby, 5. Alicia, like other members of the Argentine upper class, is not aware of how much killing and suffering has gone on in the country, and naively believes only guilty people are arrested. Alicia's views are challenged by a fellow teacher, Benítez (Patricio Contreras), and some of her students. During a discussion about the death of Argentinean founding father Mariano Moreno, one student, Costa, argues that the government-issued history textbooks are "written by murderers." Ana, Alicia's longtime friend, returns from exile in Europe and explains why she never told Alicia she was leaving. At first Alicia laughs as she tells of her apartment being ransacked by officials, but soon begins to sob as she describes being held captive, tortured and raped for having lived with a man labeled as a subversive, even though she hadn't seen him in two years. She says that while she was held captive, she witnessed pregnant women leave to give birth but return without their babies, whom she believes were sold to rich couples. Alicia increasingly wonders about Gaby's origins and Alicia asks questions about Gaby's birth, a topic her husband has told her to ignore. Alicia asks why they celebrate the day they brought her home rather than the day she was born, and whether or not Roberto actually met Gaby's mother. Roberto insists it was a normal adoption. Costa continues to provoke his classmates, and one day Alicia arrives to see newspaper accounts of the desaparecidos taped to the blackboard. When Alicia reports the student, Benítez intervenes to protect him. Alicia gradually becomes friendly with Benítez as her research brings her closer to the truth. While seeking Gaby's hospital birth records, Alicia learns of an organization searching for missing children. She meets Sara, whose pregnant daughter was kidnapped by the armed forces, and believes Gaby may be her granddaughter. Sara has a photo of her daughter at Gaby's age, looking identical to Gaby. Roberto faces stress at work due to the machinations of his colleagues, several of whom disappear over the course of the film. Ana confronts him and accuses him of denouncing her and causing her arrest. He also comes into friction with his liberal father and brother, who frown on his ties to the ruling conservative military elite and argue in favor of social justice. Alicia brings Sara home to meet Roberto, and he becomes furious. That evening, Alicia surprises Roberto when she tells him that Gaby is not home, saying, "How does it feel not knowing where your child is?" Although she tells him that Gaby is at his mother's house, he becomes enraged and assaults her. The violence is interrupted by a telephone call from Gaby. While Gaby sings a nursery rhyme to Roberto, Alicia gets her purse and walks out the door, leaving her keys behind. The film's final shot shows Gaby sitting in a wicker rocking chair at her adopted grandparents' house, continuing to sing. Cast[edit] Norma Aleandro as Alicia Marnet de Ibáñez Héctor Alterio as Roberto Ibáñez Chunchuna Villafañe as Ana Hugo Arana as Enrique Guillermo Battaglia as José Chela Ruiz as Sara Patricio Contreras as Benítez María Luisa Robledo as Nata Aníbal Morixe as Miller Jorge Petraglia as Macci Analía Castro as Gaby Daniel Lago as Dante Augusto Larreta as General Pablo Rago Background[edit] Main article: Dirty War The Military Regime of Argentina (1976–1983) saw widespread repression against those it deemed to be political dissidents. The film is based on the real political events that took place in Argentina after Jorge Rafael Videla's reactionary military junta assumed power on March 24, 1976. During the junta's rule, the parliament was suspended; unions, political parties and provincial governments were banned; and, in what became known as the Dirty War, between 9,000 and 30,000 people deemed left-wing "subversives" disappeared from society.[7] Like many progressive actors and others in the country, the lead actress in the film, Norma Aleandro, was forced into exile during this time. She traveled to Uruguay first and Spain later. She returned after the fall of the military government in 1983.[8] Aleandro once said, "Alicia's personal search is also my nation's search for the truth about our history. The film is positive in the way it demonstrates that she can change her life despite all she is losing."[9] The Official Story can be considered alongside a group of other films that were the first to be made in Argentina after the downfall in 1983 of the last Argentine dictator, Gen. Leopoldo Galtieri, and his autocratic regime. These films deal frankly with the repression, the torture, and the disappearances during Argentina's Dirty War in the 1970s and early 1980s; they include Funny Dirty Little War (1983) and Night of the Pencils (1986). A second group of films, which includes Verónico Cruz (1988) uses metaphor and hints at wider socio-political issues.[10][11] Production[edit] At first, director Puenzo, fearing for his safety, intended to shoot the film in secret, using hidden 16mm cameras. But the junta government fell right about the time the screenplay was completed.[12] The film was entirely shot in the city of Buenos Aires, Argentina, including the Plaza de Mayo where the Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo congregated in the late 1970s with signs and pictures of desaparecidos who were subjected to forced disappearance by the Argentine military in the Dirty War. The Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo continue to protest every Thursday afternoon at 3:30 pm in the Plaza de Mayo in Buenos Aires.[13] Distribution[edit] The Official Story first opened in Argentina on April 3, 1985. It has also been featured at various film festivals including the Toronto Festival of Festivals, the Berlin International Film Festival, the Cannes Film Festival, and the Mar del Plata Film Festival. It was picked up by for US distribution by Almi Pictures with a wider 1986 theatrical release. In 2015, the film received a 4K restoration performed by worldwide rights holder Historias Cinematograficas Cinemania, with funding by the Argentinian National Film Institute. In May 2018, this 4K restoration made a US screening at the Cannes Classics festival. Video release[edit] The 1986 US VHS release by Pacific Arts video was a 4:3 cropped TV print with burnt-in English subtitles, but fully uncut with original Spanish audio in mono. This master was reused for the 1999 Fox Lorber DVD and VHS release. In 2003, Koch Lorber put out a remastered US DVD release featuring an HD transfer presented in anamorphic 1.78:1 widescreen, and 5.1 plus original 2.0 Spanish audio tracks. This master was also used for the region 0 NTSC format Australian DVD release by Umbrella Entertainment. In 2011, the film had made its first-ever video debut in the UK by Arrow Video on DVD. Unlike the 2003 Koch Lorber and Umbrella DVDs, the 2011 Arrow DVD is inferior to them due to utilizing a NTSC-PAL converted 4:3 letterbox presentation of the Almi Pictures US theatrical print with burnt-in English subtitles. In 2018, Cohen Media Group picked up US video and digital rights to the 2015 4K restoration, with a remastered DVD and Blu-ray release commencing in October. Critical response[edit] The film won many awards when first released and, as such, the drama was widely well received in the 1980s. Walter Goodman, film critic for The New York Times, believes the film was well balanced, and wrote, "Mr. Puenzo's film is unwaveringly committed to human rights, yet it imposes no ideology or doctrine. The further miracle is that this is the 39-year-old director's first feature film."[14] Critic Roger Ebert lauded the film in his film review, writing, "The Official Story is part polemic, part thriller, part tragedy. It belongs on the list with films like Z, Missing and El Norte, which examine the human aspects of political unrest. It is a movie that asks some very hard questions ... Alicia is played in the movie by Norma Aleandro, whose performance won the best actress award at this year's Cannes Film Festival. It is a performance that will be hard to forget, particularly since so much of it is internal. Some of the key moments in the film come as we watch Aleandro and realize what must be taking place inside her mind, and inside her conscience. Most political films play outside the countries that they are about; "The Official Story" is now actually playing in Argentina, where it must be almost unbearably painful for some of the members of its audiences. It was almost as painful for me."[15] Film critics Frederic and Mary Ann Brussat, of the website Spirituality and Practice, were painfully touched by the story they viewed. They write, "The Official Story is a wrenching and painful drama that crystallizes the horror and the obscenity of political activities that annihilate family solidarity in the name of ideology...The Official Story packs a shattering visceral punch."[16] A few critics were dismissive of the story Puenzo tells. For example, The Chicago Reader's Dave Kehr thought "Puenzo's methods are so crudely manipulative ... that the film quickly uses up the credit of its good intentions."[17] Awards[edit] Wins[edit] Academy Awards: Oscar; Best Foreign Film; 1985. Los Angeles Film Critics Association Awards: LAFCA Award Best Foreign Film; (tied with Ran); 1985. New York Film Critics Circle Awards: NYFCC Award Best Actress; Norma Aleandro; 1985. Toronto International Film Festival: People's Choice Award, Luis Puenzo, 1985. Premios ACE: Premio ACE Cinema; Best Actress, Norma Aleandro; Cinema - Best Director, Luis Puenzo; Cinema - Best Film; 1986. Golden Globes: Best Foreign Language Film; 1986. Argentine Film Critics Association Awards: Silver Condor; Best Actress, Norma Aleandro; Best Cinematography, Félix Monti; Best Director, Luis Puenzo; Best Editing, Juan Carlos Macías; Best Film; Best New Actress, Analía Castro; Best Original Screenplay, Aída Bortnik and Luis Puenzo; Best Supporting Actor, Patricio Contreras; Best Supporting Actress, Chela Ruiz; 1986. Berlin International Film Festival: Interfilm Award, Otto Dibelius Film Award, Luis Puenzo, (tied with Un Complicato intrigo di donne, vicoli e delitti); 1986. Cannes Film Festival: Best Actress, Norma Aleandro; Prize of the Ecumenical Jury, Luis Puenzo; 1985.[18] Kansas City Film Critics Circle Awards: KCFCC Award Best Foreign Film; 1986. David di Donatello Awards: David Best Foreign Actress, Norma Aleandro; 1987. Nominations[edit] Academy Awards: Best Writing, Screenplay Written Directly for the Screen; 1985. Cannes Film Festival: Golden Palm, Luis Puenzo; 1985. Sant Jordi Awards: Best Foreign Actress, Norma Aleandro; 1987. Best Foreign Language Film, U.S. National Board of Review of Motion Pictures[19] See also[edit] Maria Eugenia Sampallo The Lost Steps (2001) Captive (2005) List of submissions to the 58th Academy Awards for Best Foreign Language Film List of Argentine submissions for the Academy Award for Best Foreign Language Film ****  La historia oficial, 30 años después: las contradicciones del gran clásico del cine argentino del regreso de la democracia La primera película nacional en ganar un premio Oscar estrena su edición remasterizada en la plataforma Netflix. A más de tres décadas de su estreno, las temáticas más polémicas de un film que pasó, en gran medida, la prueba del tiempo Por Gustavo Noriega 11 de septiembre de 2018  Compartir en Facebook   Compartir en Twitter  Play Cuando se cumplieron 30 años de su estreno, en 2015, La historia oficial fue restaurada con las mejores técnicas disponibles, generándose una copia digital que hacía justicia a las intenciones estéticas de sus realizadores, especialmente a la espléndida fotografía de Félix Monti. Esa copia llega ahora (junto con un paquete de películas asociadas a Luis Puenzo como productor, como Infancia clandestina o la tercera película de su hija Lucía, Wakolda) a la plataforma Netflix lo cual permite que desde sus hogares el gran público conozca o vuelva a encontrarse con una de las películas más importantes de la historia del cine argentino. Quizás ninguna otra vez como en este caso el cine nacional conectó con su época de manera tan clara como La historia oficial lo hizo con la recuperación democrática y el develamiento de los horrores de la represión. A través de su personaje central, Alicia (Norma Aleandro), una profesora de historia de colegio secundario que descubre con espanto que su hija adoptada es hija de desaparecidos y fue apropiada ilegalmente, la sociedad argentina de los ochenta encuentra una representación que la exculpabiliza y la convierte en testigo más que en protagonista. Difrentes afiches de “La historia oficial” La decisión de Puenzo y la guionista Aída Bortnik de contar la historia del secuestro de bebés a través de una madre apropiadora y no siguiendo la búsqueda de una abuela fue clave. La refundación democrática argentina necesitaba una historia que legitime a la sociedad y la deje por fuera de la violencia que había arrasado al país desde comienzos de la década del 70 y que no se había detenido hasta el desastre de Malvinas. La película de Luis Puenzo cumplía inconscientemente con ese rol de manera brillante. Estéticamente, la película pertenece a un ciclo del cine argentino que comienza a terminar a mediados de la década del noventa, momento en que se produce una gran renovación. Una década después de que la película ganara el Oscar, irrumpió una nueva generación. La retórica recargada y la necesidad de expresar verbalmente a través de los personajes las ideas políticas de los realizadores fueron reemplazados por un cine menos costumbrista y más realista, que ponía más el acento en las escenas de transición (en algunos casos ocupando toda la extensión de la película) que en los momentos "importantes", de gran intensidad actoral.  Play La película de Luis Puenzo es quizás de las mejores expresiones de aquella vieja tradición. Con un elenco sólido, al que se le brindan una y otra vez oportunidades de lucimiento, la película se articula a través de una sucesión de escenas de alta intensidad dramática, casi sin respiración entre ellas, en las cuales todo el tiempo los personajes dan información sobre sus coordenadas ideológicas y sociales. Algunas escenas envejecieron mejor que otras. Los estudiantes revoltosos pero esclarecidos (¿no era que la Dictadura los había despolitizado?) y el profesor "piola" sobreactuado por Patricio Contreras son difíciles de digerir hoy en día pero todas las interacciones entre Norma Aleandro, Héctor Alterio y Chunchuna Villafañe superan largamente la prueba del tiempo. La película fue filmada sin financiación del Estado (toda la preproducción se realizó bajo la Dictadura), con aportes personales del equipo de producción. Puenzo había desarrollado una exitosa carrera como publicista. Su productor, Marcelo Piñeyro, también del mundo publicitario, se convertiría luego en un exitoso cineasta. La casa de Puenzo fue la locación principal y su estudio profesional se utilizó como el local de las Abuelas de Plaza de Mayo. Lo interesante de una revisión de la película a más de treinta años es identificar los elementos que suenan anacrónicos, para de esa manera entender qué cambió en estas tres décadas. Chunchuna Villafañe y Norma Aleandro Algunos cambios son anecdóticos pero revelan un nuevo sentido común acerca de lo que se puede y no se puede mostrar. Por ejemplo, la escena inicial con la protagonista niña, Analía Castro, desnuda en la bañadera y apenas cubierta por espuma, hoy, en un clima de protección de los menores mucho más marcado que en el pasado, sería inimaginable. De la misma manera, el hermano noble del personaje de Alterio, interpretado por Hugo Arana, es notablemente violento con los niños para nuestros parámetros actuales: ningún personaje con aristas "positivas" podría ser presentado así. En otros temas, como el de la violencia de género y las relaciones abusivas, la película resultó ser pionera. Las diferencias más significativas sin embargo no pasan por los parámetros de la corrección política sino por la discusión acerca de la década del 70, especialmente los impuestos luego de los años del kirchnerismo. El personaje de Chunchuna Villafañe es Ana, una amiga de Alicia, exiliada, con un marido militante desaparecido, presumiblemente guerrillero. De alguna manera, Ana es el norte moral de la película: la dirección hacia la cual se tiene que acercar Alicia en su proceso de conocimiento y asunción de la verdad. En una escena, Ana discute con Roberto (Héctor Alterio), el marido de Alicia, un empresario con contactos con la Dictadura. En la discusión sobre el marido de Ana, ella le dice: "son dos caras de la misma moneda, por eso se odiaban tanto", quizás la formulación de la teoría de los dos demonios más clara que se haya expresado públicamente. Lo interesante no es pensar si La historia oficial tenía razón en esta afirmación en particular. La cuestión polémica no es si Firmenich tenía ribetes comparables con los de Suárez Mason, una comparación como cualquier otra de la cual se puede sacar la conclusión que se quiera. El problema es que el universo de cosas que se pueden decir en una película que refiere a los años violentos en la Argentina se ha angostado enormemente. A una teoría mal formulada y criticable como la de los dos demonios se la ha convertido en una suerte de negacionismo. Cualquier crítica al accionar de los grupos guerrilleros se reinterpreta arbitrariamente como un aval a la represión ilegal. Hoy en día sería muy difícil pensar una película en la cual la protagonista fuera una apropiadora, en la que el representante de la Dictadura sea un burgués agobiado al que el mundo se le viene abajo y en el que el eje moral del relato indique que su marido guerrillero y el militar represor eran prácticamente iguales. Esa película existió, se la muestra orgullosamente como la ganadora de un Oscar y se llama La historia oficial. *La historia oficial, Argentina, 1985, 1h 55', dirigida por Luis Puenzo, está disponible en su edición remasterizada en la plataforma Netflix. ****Social and Cultural Circularity in La historia oficial     Thomas J. Blommers California State University-Bakersfield     The 1985 film La historia oficial (The Official Story), directed by Luis Puenzo from a script by Puenzo and Aida Bortnik, can serve as an excellent point of departure for the study of recent Argentine culture. As such, it has become a staple in many Latin American culture courses throughout the U.S. and Europe, keeping its relevance intact even though it is now well into its second decade (1). Furthermore, it is of particular interest at this time in light of the current efforts to identify potential children of the ‘disappeared,’ and the ongoing battles in the Argentine courts in an attempt to bring retribution to the perpetrators of kidnappings during the ‘dirty war.’ The film is set in Buenos Aires during the waning period of the military government in the early 1980s after the disastrous war over the Falklands, with a ‘live’ background of the Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo demonstrating regularly and loudly as they demand to know what has happened to their children. After an unsettling reunion with an old friend, Alicia, played by Norma Aleandro, an affluent wife and history teacher in a boys’ preparatory school, tries to investigate the circumstances of her adopted daughter’s birth. Her investigation leads her to the discovery that the biological mother of her daughter Gaby was one of the desaparecidas, victims of the military government’s repression of real and imaginary leftist groups (2). Her efforts to learn the truth result in the destruction of her marriage to Roberto and an uncertain future for her daughter, who at the end of the film faces the same uncertainties Alicia suffered as a young girl. In spite of this seemingly tragic ending, it can be argued that there are hopeful signs pointing toward positive changes in the future. The mothers’ insistent demonstrations and their push for change in the streets seem to presage a greater political role for Latin American women in the future. The fact that Alicia’s friend Ana is able to return to Argentina after being tortured and exiled can be interpreted as a civil triumph over military authoritarianism. Similarly, the students’ rejection of the ‘official story,’ the government’s account of Argentina’s present as well as its past, looks toward an awakening among Hispanic youth regarding Latin America’s history and the possibility of making a better future based on its lessons. Alicia’s quest for the truth can be interpreted as a nascent desire to confront social reality and find positive solutions to existing problems. Indeed, Norma Aleandro herself has been quoted as saying, "Alicia’s personal search is also my nation’s search for the truth about our history. The film is positive in the way it demonstrates that she can change her life despite all she is losing" (Stone H1). Irrespective of these arguments, the allegorical nature of the film and the representativeness of its characters ultimately portray Argentina’s—and, by implication, Latin America’s—failure since independence to achieve steady socioeconomic progress and political stability. Following a tradition of historiographical debate on past heroes and tyrants, the film portends continued chaos and failure. Lethargy and stagnation have become hallmarks of Latin American political culture, and the film, owing to its circularity, can be interpreted as suggesting that there is little hope for change. The development of the principal characters seems contrived so that they ultimately end where they began. They cannot escape their origins. Alicia, for example, was orphaned at an early age when her parents were killed in a car accident. However, her relatives, wishing to spare her the pain of knowing her parents’ fate, withheld the truth. This resulted in Alicia feeling abandoned, uncertain and alone. During the course of the film, Alicia seeks the truth about Gaby, but rather than leading to satisfaction or some fortuitous resolution, this process and the truth lead to the destruction of her marriage and put Gaby’s own future in doubt. As the film concludes, Alicia once again is alone and facing personal uncertainty. Similarly, Gaby’s origin, shrouded in mystery at the beginning of the film, is only partially revealed by the end. A potential grandmother has been found, but nothing is settled. Indeed, the film ends with Gaby sitting alone in a rocking chair singing El país de no me acuerdo, the same nursery song of doubt and fear that she sang at the beginning of the film, apparently condemned to relive Alicia’s life (Bortnik 136). As the film opens we see Roberto as an upper-middle-class gentleman who has successfully climbed the socioeconomic ladder owing to his connections with the military leadership. But he has not always belonged to this class. The social standing of his family is made abundantly clear by his mother’s interaction with the maid. Whereas Alicia remains distant and polite, Roberto’s mother jokes with the maid and treats her as an equal (Bortnik 55). His lower-class immigrant family was forced to flee Spain during the civil war, and, apart from Roberto, remains mired in economic hardship. By the conclusion of the film, Roberto too is loosing everything—his job, his security and his family—in a sort of inexorable descent to his original roots. This circularity or inability to progress in a personally positive way is evident in most of the supporting characters as well. Although Ana, for example, has been able to return from exile to Argentina, she is still insecure and unwilling to help Alicia in her efforts to find Gaby’s origins. She even goes so far as to try to warn Roberto of Alicia’s activities. In a similar fashion, Benítez, Alicia’s colleague at the boys’ school, the instructor of Argentine literature, exhibits independence of thought and unorthodox classroom methods. But his non-conformism has its limits. The film soon reveals that he was run out of his former position at a provincial university and has contented himself with his current position in the boys’ school in Buenos Aires, where he hopes to be less visible. Both Ana and Benítez have suffered the repression of the government and a complacent society, and have learned the obvious lesson: any attempt to alter the status quo has severe consequences. Roberto’s father and brother have also suffered a downward spiral. The father has not only lost his own country (Spain), but also his oldest son. He has failed to instill in him his own sense of ethics. The relationship between the two is strained; they have not spoken for months before they meet for a family luncheon, which ends in argument and unpleasantness. The brother has lost his wife and business, women reject him, and, according to his father, he appears to have developed a love of alcohol. He has had to return home a weak and broken man. Gaby’s potential grandmother likewise seems to have achieved little. In spite of her marching and her contact with Alicia, the end of the film leaves her uncertain, with no answers or solutions. Roberto’s client Macci has lost his fortune and may be headed for jail if he survives an apparent heart attack. Roberto and his colleagues are abandoning the ‘sinking ship,’ and so the list goes on. By the end of the film, not one of the characters has unambiguously succeeded. Critics have found a myriad of cultural themes in the film. Amanda Brown, for example, writes that "[t]he film deals with pedagogical inquiry, classroom politics, the nature of truth, moral choices, the role of memorization, government-sanctioned terrorism, the nature of authority, the place of debate, the conditions of marriage, political protest, the church’s failure to react to political realities, and the authority of texts" (Brown). These and other cultural themes suggested by the chain of events in the film also exhibit circularity or stagnation, and one in particular, machismo, seems to rise to the level of leitmotif. Argentina, like Latin America in general, is a male-dominated society in which various manifestations of machismo are present. Machismo, the desire of men to have absolute power and control over themselves, other men, and especially over women, is by no means unique to Hispanics. However, most researchers accept that machismo plays an unusually important role in social and political activities in Latin America (3). The film explores various aspects of machismo that are of interest from a cultural perspective. In the 1960s sociologists and criminologists such as Wolfgang and Ferracuti began to note and address the higher rates of violence among the lower classes. Oscar Lewis, in The Children of Sánchez, notes that machismo is exhibited differently according to socioeconomic class, and he goes on to mention, for example, that "drinking in the middle class is a social amenity whereas in the lower class getting drunk has different and multiple functions" (xxvii) such as forgetting troubles and bracing oneself to deal with life’s problems. It is machismo’s relationship to alcohol, violence and poverty that is of particular interest in La historia oficial because it is used extensively to reveal the character of Roberto. As noted before, Roberto begins the film as an upper-middle-class gentleman, even though his origin is lower-class immigrant. When Alicia complains about the insulting remarks made by one of the wives at a dinner party, in true upper-class macho fashion Roberto seems to dismiss it as silly and unimportant women’s talk and tells Alicia that she is being "hysterical" (Bortnik 33). Later when Alicia first broaches the subject of Gaby’s origin after a birthday party, Roberto playfully but significantly taps Alicia in the head with a party balloon and refuses to answer her questions. As is typical of the machismo of his adopted class, Roberto treats his wife in much the same way he treats a child. As his situation at work deteriorates and Alicia presses her search for Gaby’s origin, however, Roberto’s actions begin to change, gradually unmasking his lower-class background. At one point Roberto angrily commands Alicia not to think and later calls her stupid and an imbecile. Alcohol, which was taken socially in the opening scenes, becomes more important. One scene ends with a shot of Roberto’s drink resting on a nightstand, in another ice cubes can be heard tinkling in Roberto’s glass. Later Roberto comes to bed so drunk that he trips on the way. By contrast, Alicia, who is of upper-middle-class Creole origin, sips eggnog with her friend Ana, and tries to imagine what it would be like to get drunk on it. Harbingers of latent physical violence in Roberto’s personality are also present. Several scenes mark the progression of his thinly repressed anger or disapproval to frank loss of temper. Witness, for example, his first menacing look at Ana at dinner and his later treatment of her when she comes to warn him in the parking garage scene. Witness also his mistreatment of the family dog and his subsequent outbursts of temper with his father and brother during the family luncheon scene. Finally, through his brusque treatment of Alicia in the airport and especially when she introduces him to Gaby’s potential grandmother, we witness Roberto slowly return to his origins. By the end of the film it seems inevitable that Roberto should resort to physical violence and attack his wife, an act that effectively ends the marriage. Other male characters to whom Alicia turns also exhibit typical manifestations of machismo. Benítez makes constant sexual innuendoes and even playfully asks to go to bed with her. In a pivotal and notably anticlerical scene, her priest refuses to help or even listen to her, and—like Roberto—dismisses her as though she were a child. Her brother-in-law refers her back to her husband, the man who should be in control of all domestic questions. All these men essentially treat her like a child and refuse to take her seriously. None is able or willing to help. By the conclusion of the film, not a single positive male role model has emerged among these characters. Roberto, who symbolically represents the regime, has resorted to violence, thus evidencing not only his own return to his origins, but also society’s inability to free itself from the powerful influence of machismo. He has lost control and failed, just as the military regime’s obsessive attempt to control society through violence and terror has also resulted in failure. The only other significant male characters in the film are the students. It can, perhaps, be argued that social benefit may be derived from their passionate search, both in history and in the present, for the truth. Nevertheless, in spite of the attractiveness of their youthful ardor, from the onset they exhibit macho tendencies similar to those of the other male characters in the film, and, by extension, to those of their parents. Although during the course of the film they will decry the ‘official story,’ and appear to search for truth, and, by implication, call for change, they show strong signs of social conformity. This is particularly evident in their treatment of the homosexual student, Martín Cullen, when roll is called in the first class meeting. As Mark Szuchman points out in Depicting the Past in Argentine Films, Cullen’s effeminate and "stylized response to the teacher’s calling of his name generates the predictable jeers by the rest of the boys. We see the pranksterism of the students, which over time melds into the intolerance of a wide spectrum of Argentine society, ill disposed toward deviants of any sort, including, ultimately, the Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo" (192). It is significant to point out that of the two teachers, Alicia ignores Cullen’s treatment by the students, while Benítez actually fosters it by having Cullen play a woman in front of the class. The students contend that history is written by the victors, who shape the truth. They confront Alicia, their teacher, who prefers to rely on historical documents, that is, on the ‘official story.’ But their search for the truth is limited to trying to convert her, their female teacher. Furthermore, their historical quest is barren. No one will ever know what happened to the patriot they discuss because, as Alicia points out, all the witnesses are dead. In the end, Alicia, somewhat intimidated by the students and encouraged by her fellow teacher, abandons her own principles and awards Costa—the rebellious student leader—a high grade for doing exactly what he accuses the historians of doing. He writes as ‘historical truth’ what amounts to wishful fiction without references, ersatz history congenial to his generation. Alicia’s decision to give Costa such a high mark is made no doubt in an attempt to disarm him. It is a political, not an intellectual, recognition which panders to the machista tactics of the students. Whatever the reason, the message is clear. The students will repeat their fathers’ history. While on the surface the female characters seem more positive than their male counterparts, a close examination yields equally inauspicious results. The women of Alicia’s circle are content in being the unquestioning ‘little girls’ their husbands’ desire, uninvolved in the outside world of politics. At an early dinner-party scene one woman says that women should never allow their husbands to speak of politics at the table. In spite of this, only the female characters in La historia oficial seem to call for change. The mothers of the Plaza de Mayo agitate daily carrying placards with slogans and pictures of their ‘disappeared’ children. But while their desires are obvious, they want the return of their children, they offer neither viable solutions to their society’s problems nor directions that should be taken. When Alicia asks Gaby’s potential grandmother what they should do if their relationship turns out to be true, for example, the woman looks away and has no answer. Although the female characters march openly in the streets, such actions often lead to resistance and setbacks. Furthermore, the prospect for violence is always latent. The sounds of police whistles and their presence in the streets during the mothers’ demonstrations underscore this prospect. How savage the violence can be is shown when the torture endured by Ana for merely having been married to someone the state considered subversive is revealed. On a personal parallel, Alicia’s display of independence and her continued search for the origin of her daughter against the express wishes of her husband also lead to ultimate violence. Like the mothers of the Plaza de Mayo, her actions isolate her from her societal circle. As a Creole of upper-middle-class background, she cannot accept Roberto’s suddenly naked violence and must leave him, but not before putting him down in a moment of finality. The scene after her torture in which she embraces Roberto baffles many viewers, who question how this lady could react in such a manner. The answer is woven in social class behavior. If Alicia had returned her husband’s violence, she would, in her own mind, have been no better than he. Her upbringing becomes obvious by her gesture, and it also becomes an insurmountable barrier to any future possibility of reconciliation. Roberto has defined himself by his actions and has shown that he has not been able to overcome his own origins. But none of this brings a resolution to her problems. As mentioned before, Alicia’s search ruins her marriage and leads her back to an uncertain beginning. And thus the film concludes. The violence of the government has in large part been its undoing, Roberto’s machismo has destroyed his marriage, and Argentina seems condemned to repeat its past. It is as if machismo had infected the entire society, from the military and the government to the schools and churches. The women are left to deal with the problems engendered by this situation and agitate for change. Their agitation has forced Argentine society to look at itself, just as Alicia has examined her marriage. But this self-appraisal, also like Alicia’s marriage, may be a barren endeavor, since at the same time the women abet the permeation of society by machismo. Women not allowing the topic of politics at the table, Alicia’s capitulation to her student, and Gaby’s insistence that men are not supposed to cook are obvious examples of such abetment. By the end, the film has unmasked Roberto, who becomes the torturer of his own wife. It has also unmasked the prevalent machismo which underlies Argentina’s culture. But other than showing the innately base nature of most characters and events, nothing has really been accomplished and no one is better off. The social model predicated on machismo, which in Argentina’s case includes both historical political traditions, the Creole federalistas and the cosmopolitan unitarios, has been shown as fruitless and incapable of transformation or modernization. This reductio ab nihilo, and the repetitive character of situations and events presented by the film place it squarely in the tradition of sociopolitical meditation—and self-laceration—that begins with Echeverría’s anti-Rosas story El matadero, continues through Sarmiento’s Facundo, and reaches the present in novels such as Ricardo Piglia’s Respiración artificial. In this latter work, the narrator’s attempts to find his uncle, a historian obsessed with tracing the fate of an apocryphal intellectual opponent of the Rosas dictatorship, end when the reader realizes that the uncle has been ‘disappeared,’ and that in Argentina the past and the present are one. The value of Puenzo’s tragic and seemingly hopeless presentation of current Argentine culture in the film resides in the fact that the purpose of tragedy is precisely to confront the darkest fears and disguises prevalent in a given culture. The intention of Puenzo and Bortnik may well have been to exorcise Argentina’s historical demons by pointing out the emptiness of a sociopolitical process and historical debate that only leads to repetition rather than resolution. This message is intensified by the fact that the published script does not contain either Cullen’s open homosexuality and his victimization by the other students, or Alicia’s final embracing of her husband at the conclusion of the film. Puenzo’s decision to incorporate these changes at the time of filming stresses the lack of solutions made apparent by the film. Indeed, because the film is so artistically well crafted and polished in all its myriad detail, it offers an excellent point of departure to explore some of Argentina and Latin America’s most salient problems today. As the film deals with its various themes, it shows their impact on individuals in a very personal way, thus making them more immediate. Finally, the fact that there are no easy answers highlights the complexity of Latin American society, and the difficulty of achieving constructive change. Carlos Menem’s recent repatriation of the dusty bones of Juan Manuel de Rosas to the contrary, let us hope that films such as La historia oficial will help cleanse the societal ills still prevalent in many Latin American countries, and point toward the positive resolutions that are lacking in the film.     Notes (1). For example, in addition to being used in two courses given here by the Department of Modern Languages and Literatures at California State University, Bakersfield, a quick perusal of the internet reveals that the film is also being used in courses at Miracosta Community College in California (http://www.miracosta.cc.ca.us/home/chouse/ofstory.htm), Salisbury State University in Maryland (http://faculty.ssu.edu/~bnstiegl/Span312.htm), and University College of London (http://ucl.ac.uk/spanish-latinamerican/901a.htm). (2). Marguerite Feitlowitz in her exhaustive study of the period of the Dirty War, A Lexicon of Terror, notes that most pregnant detainees were killed after giving birth and their babies were sold to the families of the military or police. She states that, "The baby’s biological ties and family identity had to be erased, lest it fulfull its ‘genetic destiny’ and become a guerrilla (67)." She goes on to note that the Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo have searched for at least 220 missing children and believe, "that there were many more children and babies born in captivity, but no one thus far has come forward to investigate their cases (68)." (3). Lancaster, in his work Life is Hard, Machismo, Danger, and the Intimacy of Power in Nicaragua, for example, notes that the connection between the culture of machismo and the historical processes of the Spanish conquest "has been noted so often that it has become commonplace" (306).      ebay4916 folder100