Director: Papu Curotto Starring: Ignacio Rogers, Esteban Masturini, Joaquín Parada, Blas Finardi Niz
The film’s greatest strength is its sensory immersion. Curotto’s camera loves the golden-hour light filtering through reeds, the murky water clinging to bare skin, and the lazy buzz of insects. You can feel the humidity. This isn't just aesthetic; the swamp becomes a character—a place of primal authenticity, untouched by the rigid rules of the city. It’s where the boys could be honest, and where the men must return to find themselves.
★★★½ (3.5/5)
Watch it on a warm, lazy afternoon when you’re in the mood for something reflective and bittersweet. Bring patience, but leave your cynicism at the door.
In the humid, sticky heat of the Argentine wetlands (the esteros of the title), childhood promises feel as permanent as the landscape. Papu Curotto’s Esteros understands this perfectly. It’s a quiet, sun-drenched, and deeply melancholic coming-of-age drama that doubles as a second-chance romance, exploring how the people we become often wage war against the people we were. Esteros -2016-
The acting is wonderfully natural. The young actors (Parada and Finardi Niz) capture the awkward, electric thrill of first discovery without a hint of exploitation. As adults, Ignacio Rogers (Matías) is a masterclass in repressed longing—his body is tense, his words clipped, hiding behind a polite smile and a girlfriend he clearly doesn't love. Esteban Masturini’s Jerónimo is his perfect foil: open, earthy, comfortable in his own skin and sexuality. Their chemistry is palpable in every stolen glance and hesitant touch.
Esteros wisely avoids melodrama. There are no shouting matches or dramatic car crashes. The central conflict is internal: Matías’s fear of his own desires versus Jerónimo’s patient acceptance. The presence of Matías’s girlfriend, Rochi (played with sympathetic realism by Renata Calmon), is handled with surprising maturity. She isn’t a villain; she’s simply the wrong person in the wrong place, sensing the invisible wall between her and her boyfriend. This isn't just aesthetic; the swamp becomes a
If you are looking for a fast-paced, plot-heavy drama, this isn’t it. Esteros moves at the pace of the swamp—slow, deliberate, sometimes languid. The middle section can feel repetitive, as Matías oscillates between longing and denial one too many times.
