Homo Argentum (2025)

The film opens at a cramped apartment party where a man, drinking and joking with friends, steps out onto the stoop to smoke. He balances a beer bottle in one hand and, as he flicks ash, his elbow clips the glass; the bottle falls and shatters on the pavement. The sound draws a young woman from across the street; a passing car brakes too late and the woman is run over in the confusion while, nearby, a delivery rider is thrown from his motorcycle by the sudden upheaval. The man who knocked the bottle stares at the carnage for a heartbeat, then swallows his guilt and slips back inside to dance with his companions as distant sirens grow louder.

Night shifts and dawns later, the film follows a security guard who goes by the nickname "Panter." After finishing his duty he walks home and encounters Paloma, a woman distraught after a fight with her billionaire lover. Panter escorts her to a Mostaza fast-food joint for lunch; Paloma flirts and unloads her grievances about the boyfriend. From the restaurant they go to a friend's flat. There, Paloma and the friend begin to make out in front of Panter. Their moans and teasing seduce him; the three fall into a threesome that stretches into the small hours. At morning light, Panter walks Paloma back to the house of her wealthy boyfriend. The couple reconcile; Panter watches the reunion, returns to his security post and sits through his night shift with a private smile, replaying the earlier intimacy in his head.

In a high-rise elevator on his way to a formal dinner, the wealthy Felipe Keller rides upward when a young woman named Ana staggers, cries rape, and threatens to ruin him unless he transfers fifty thousand dollars before the cab reaches the fifty-fourth floor. Keller fumbles, agrees to pay on the fifty-second floor, and then Ana pushes her demand to one hundred thousand. After he refuses to send the extra, she screams that he attempted to assault her. The altercation culminates in a scream; Keller flees the elevator in panic. Later it becomes clear that the whole episode was a nightmare born from his fear and guilt: the supposed attack dissolves as a vision, and he chooses to take the stairs instead of the elevator.

A money changer in a small exchange shop draws the attention of a Brazilian tourist couple and invites them inside to trade their reals for pesos. He banters about the greats -- Maradona, Messi, Pelé -- and lets slip offers of odd freebies, from reduced tango lessons to leather jackets. The couple departs suspiciously, and the money changer reaches for a phone. He calls an accomplice to describe the tourists' looks and the cash they carry, arranging details in a low voice and setting up a likely robbery.

A middle-aged couple discover their thirty-nine-year-old son Ariel having sex with a woman in the family home. Embarrassed and determined to restore order, the parents gently tell him it is time to move out. Ariel protests but ultimately acquiesces. On moving day the household parts awkwardly; a month passes and the father keeps vigil in the living room at night, missing his son and replaying domestic silence while the mother hurls barbed comments about his melancholy.

On a small street, neighbor Aníbal cultivates a patriotic, almost theatrical resistance to crime. He professes to his wife Gladys that he will protect their home with a revolver, and, if he dies protecting the house, he orders Gladys to hand over their emergency money kept in a duck-shaped ornament. One night two young intruders break into their apartment. Aníbal drags himself awake, grasps his gun and stalks toward the intruders; at the critical moment his hand trembles and he cannot pull the trigger. The thieves overpower the apartment, lock Gladys in the bathroom and make off with the duck and other valuables. In the street Aníbal rages and vows, threatening to shoot if they return, but he has not lifted a finger. He retrieves Gladys from the bathroom and, with tears, tells her that he killed the robbers -- a lie he tells to comfort her and to keep his pride intact.

During the World Cup final in Qatar, a sports reporter holds a rosary at a table of friends and colleagues and recounts, trembling, the final penalty kick taken by Gonzalo Montiel for Argentina. When the ball hits the net and Argentina wins after thirty-six years, everyone at the table erupts into tears and jubilation: hands clap, people jump, faces contort with emotion. In the middle of the celebration the reporter chokes on something indeterminate in his throat; he collapses suddenly and silently onto the table. The crowd is too caught up in victory to notice his fall.

An elderly man, having labored for years, finally purchases a truck that he has painstakingly built in his imagination and now owns. On the drive home another car rear-ends him and scratches the new paint. The two drivers step out and discover they are former classmates. They fall into reminiscence on the street, trading stories while they block traffic, laughing and lamenting in shared memory.

In a restaurant a billionaire notices a hungry teenager, Axel, and pays for his meal. Moved, the man takes Axel on a shopping spree through the city, buying him luxuries and showing him corners of a world Axel does not inhabit. He drives Axel back to a slum where the boy works and jokes that he might rob him; the billionaire recoils at the suggestion. After Axel leaves, the billionaire is at the workplace telling a colleague about the experience; he describes the afternoon as beautiful and something he will never forget, as if he has collected a souvenir of human contact.

On national television the newly elected president interrupts broadcasts to deliver his first address to the nation. As the cameras roll and the country watches, the president grows flustered; he stumbles through seconds of silence, tells the producers to cut him off and asks to be removed from the broadcast. The National Network closes the interruption with a polite announcement thanking viewers.

Antonio, mourning his wife, invites his adult children Anna, Lucas and Mateo for a family barbecue to introduce his new partner, Eliana. The children respond with alarm when they learn that Eliana is their father's former housekeeper and significantly younger than Antonio. Fearing their father's fortune will go to Eliana, they agree among themselves to change the will and assign the inheritance to the three siblings. When they confront Antonio he reacts with anger and unease; he lies about the decision and sows discord between his children so that they fight and abandon their scheme. After the children leave, Eliana tells Antonio she is pregnant, producing a new strain in the family's fragile truce.

In a slum community a priest prepares a meager meal for his parishioners. He gathers them and delays giving them their food to offer thanks and then to list the positive things about their lives, enumerating small mercies. An exasperated man begs the priest to stop preaching and let them eat; the priest relents and allows the meal to begin after making his point about the blessings that accompany poverty.

At Ministro Pistarini International Airport, a young woman leaves for Madrid to pursue opportunities abroad. Her parents walk her to the departure gate in tears and cling to the last moments of farewell. In the car after the drop-off the father tries to console the mother by promising a future barbecue they will not have in Spain, but their attempt at levity dissolves into more tears as they drive away.

A grandfather returns from the United States with a limited-edition robot doll his grandson requested. He picks the boy up from school and, at the boy's insistence, offers to bring a classmate named Santi back to the grandfather's apartment. On the drive Santi claims he has the same robot doll, provoking the grandfather's irritation. Arriving at Santi's home, the grandfather asks that the boy produce the toy to prove him wrong, lecturing his grandson about jealousy and lies. Santi returns with the very doll in his hands. The grandfather, furious and feeling humiliated, drives away with his grandson without resolving the scene; his face becomes a mask of bred resentment.

In a jungle location a director named Iván Rodríguez directs the film "Al rescate de los Awaris," a project about an almost extinct Argentine tribe. On the last day of shooting he becomes obsessive over a single shot: a fly that refuses to perch on the face of a child actor. He scolds his assistants, scorns the crew and treats the Awaris with contempt as he grinds them through retakes. Only after repeated takes does he capture what he wants. At an awards ceremony later his film wins Best Picture. Iván mounts the stage in full make-up and costume borrowed from the tribe, expounds on the importance of the Awaris and, at the climax of his speech, shouts "they are all Awari," a line delivered with both triumph and theatrical excess.

An Argentine man travels to Sicily in search of distant relatives, the Muscarelli family, tracing the roots his grandfather left behind. He discovers their house and introduces himself as kin and a construction company owner in Argentina. The Muscarellis' curiosity soon shifts to avarice: when he mentions his means they launch into requests for money, specifically to buy a wheelchair for a family member. One member, Giulia, pulls him aside in the bathroom and propositions him, offering sex or oral sex in exchange for help in escaping the family's confines. The Argentine man, alarmed and ashamed, tries to flee. The Muscarellis realize he intends to leave; they chase him and pelt him with stones as he runs away. Later, the family sits in the kitchen rifling through the items they stole from the stranger--his passport, ID, credit cards, cash and a box of Havanna alfajores. They taste the cookies and, in a judgmental chorus, declare them "Troppo dolce."

Interleaved through these vignettes, small connective moments recur: a man panics and pretends to be a millionaire on television but collapses when the emotion overwhelms him; elderly men meet by accident and block traffic to trade old stories; a petty thief's phone call sets the stage for small crimes around the city; parents scheme over wills and the fragile domestic arrangements that follow. The film traces one brief life and another, moving from a drunken party to the sterile floors of office towers, from crowded slums to the Mediterranean edges of Sicily, from airports to award ceremonies. Scenes of intimacy sit beside episodes of shame, and petty lies ripple outward to affect others.

Throughout the sequence the camera returns repeatedly to the consequences of small acts. The man who knocks the bottle never confesses or faces legal consequence for the street accident he causes; the woman he distracts is left where she falls and the delivery rider is hurled into the pavement. Aníbal's lie that he killed the robbers substitutes for any legal or violent resolution; his brave posturing ends with another household bereft. The World Cup celebration continues as one participant chokes and collapses unseen, while those around him do not notice. In the noted segments where blood might have appeared, violence often arrives in indirect form: a sudden car striking a pedestrian, a rear-end denting newly painted metal, or stones thrown at a man fleeing relatives in Sicily.

The narrative concludes on the Sicilian street. The Argentine stranger, humiliated and stripped of his documents and the small comforts he brought, lopes down an uneven lane while the Muscarelli family remains in their doorway tasting the alfajores and declaring them too sweet. The last image is of the family clustered together in the warm Mediterranean light, voices overlapping in the Italian phrase "Troppo dolce," as the man disappears from the frame, his ties to both homeland and family reduced to memories and the sting of theft. The film fades there, closing on the ordinary cruelties, vanities and misfortunes that punctuate the lives it has sketched.

Homo Argentum (2025) is an anthology film consisting of 16 standalone short stories, each starring Guillermo Francella as different characters, with no overarching narrative or unified ending; each vignette concludes independently, often highlighting individual hypocrisies or dilemmas without resolution across the collection.

In the dim haze of a lively Buenos Aires party under string lights, a man portrayed by Guillermo Francella, beer bottle in hand, steps outside for a smoke, embodying the casual entitlement of everyday Argentine life; he swings his arm absentmindedly, knocking the bottle into the street where it shatters explosively, drawing the eyes of a passing woman who steps into traffic and gets struck by a car, while a delivery man on a motorcycle swerves violently and is hurled to the pavement amid screeching tires and crunching metal. The man freezes for a split second, his face paling as distant shouts rise and blood pools on the asphalt, but he turns away deliberately, shoulders shrugging off the chaos, reenters the party pulsing with music, grabs a partner, and dances with forced vigor as police sirens and ambulance wails pierce the night air from afar--his fate left as the pretender of normalcy, unpunished and unrepentant.

Later that same night in a modest suburban home, Aníbal, played by Francella, awakens to the crash of breaking glass as two young thieves burst in; he grabs his gun from the nightstand, heart pounding, creeping down the hallway in his undershirt, but when confronted, his finger trembles on the trigger, unable to fire, and the intruders shove his wife Gladys into the bathroom, locking her in as she huddles silently following his prior whispered instructions. The thieves rifle through drawers, snatch a prized golden duck figurine along with cash and jewelry, stuffing it into a backpack before fleeing into the shadows of the street; Aníbal, rage boiling over, bolts outside barefoot, gun raised, bellowing empty threats into the empty night--"If you come back, I'll kill you this time!"--before returning inside, unlocking the bathroom door, pulling a tear-streaked Gladys into his arms, and soothing her with a fabricated lie that he shot the robbers dead, his voice cracking as they cling together in the dim kitchen light--Aníbal's fate sealed as the impotent protector, comforting through deception.

In a gleaming high-end restaurant bathed in warm chandelier glow, a billionaire version of Francella spots a disheveled homeless youth named Axel begging for scraps, pays for his lavish meal of steak and wine with a magnanimous flourish, then whisks him on a whirlwind shopping spree through neon-lit boutiques, buying tailored suits, watches, and shoes that Axel tries on with wide-eyed glee. As the luxury car pulls up to Axel's ramshackle slum workplace amid piles of trash and barking dogs, Axel grins slyly and jokes, "Now I'm gonna rob you," sending a chill through the millionaire who slams the door and speeds away, heart racing; later, safe in his office tower, he recounts the tale to a coworker over scotch, eyes misty, calling it a "beautiful, enriching experience" he'll cherish forever--his fate that of the naive philanthropist, enriched only by illusion.

Finally, in a tense family confrontation within a opulent living room lined with leather furniture and family portraits, Antonio, again Francella, faces his adult children who announce their decision to split the inheritance early; his face twists in anger and discomfort, veins bulging as he lies manipulatively, pitting them against each other with invented slights and unequal shares until they storm out shouting accusations. Alone with his young wife Eliana, who approaches with a soft glow, Antonio's expression shifts as she reveals her pregnancy, her hand on her belly--Antonio's fate unresolved as the scheming patriarch, facing new life amid his web of familial deceit, while Eliana steps into an unexpected future as expectant mother, and the children depart embittered by division.

No, Homo Argentum (2025) does not have a post-credits scene. The film's credits, as detailed in available cast and crew listings, roll without any additional teaser or scene following the main content.

In the 'Aquí no ha pasado nada' segment, Guillermo Francella plays a man at a party with friends who explains the values of an average Argentinian. He steps outside to smoke a cigarette with his beer in hand, but accidentally hits the bottle, causing it to fall into the street. The bottle explodes, drawing the attention of a woman who is then run over by a car, and a delivery man is thrown from his motorcycle in the chaos. Overwhelmed by the horror, the man realizes his mistake but chooses to pretend nothing happened. He calmly returns to the party, resuming dancing with his friends as police and ambulance sirens wail faintly in the distance, his face a mask of forced nonchalance hiding the pounding guilt and fear in his chest.

In this tense nighttime burglary scene, two young thieves break into Aníbal and Gladys's modest home. Aníbal grabs his gun, heart racing with protective fury, but freezes in paralyzing fear and fails to pull the trigger. The intruders lock a terrified Gladys in the bathroom as per Aníbal's prior frantic instructions to her, then flee with their prized golden duck statue and other valuables. Enraged, Aníbal bursts into the street, gun waving wildly as he shouts empty threats, swearing he'll kill them if they return, his voice cracking with impotent rage. Returning, he tearfully embraces Gladys, his strong arms comforting her trembling form, and lies through choked sobs that he killed the robbers, desperate to shield her from his humiliating cowardice and preserve his image as her protector.

In 'Experiencia enriquecedora', Guillermo Francella portrays a wealthy billionaire who spots a homeless young man named Axel begging in a restaurant and generously pays for his meal, feeling a rare spark of benevolence. Moved by Axel's plight, he whisks him on an extravagant shopping spree through the city, showering him with luxury clothes, gadgets, and indulgences Axel has never known, his own face lighting up with uncharacteristic joy. Dropping Axel back at his slum workplace, Axel jokingly threatens to rob him, sending a chill of genuine horror through the millionaire's smug satisfaction. As he drives away, shaken yet reflective, he shares the tale with a coworker, describing it as a profoundly beautiful, unforgettable experience that briefly pierced his insulated world.

In this family drama segment, Antonio's children inform him of their decision regarding the family inheritance, their faces tense with expectation. Antonio erupts in angry discomfort upon realizing their choice, his mind whirling with resentment toward their entitlement. He cunningly lies to manipulate them into a bitter sibling fight over the assets, watching with cold satisfaction as they storm out divided. Once alone, his wife Eliana confronts him calmly, asking if he has told the children about her pregnancy, her hand protectively on her belly, revealing Antonio's deeper web of deceptions and the emotional turmoil of impending fatherhood amid familial greed.

Guillermo Francella embodies a pretentious homosexual director obsessed with accolades, who travels to film a remote, threatened Indigenous tribe with feigned reverence, camera capturing their rituals amid the humid jungle heat, his expressions a mix of artistic fervor and underlying disdain. He treats the tribespeople with open contempt off-camera, barking orders and dismissing their culture as mere props for his narrative. The segment culminates in him delivering a hollow, 'committed' award speech he doesn't believe, microphone in hand under spotlights, his insincere passion earning applause while inwardly reveling in the career boost from exploiting their plight.

No, Homo Argentum is not family-friendly due to its 14+ rating and nature as a black comedy anthology featuring sharp satire on social vices like hypocrisy, opportunism, and double standards.

Potentially objectionable or upsetting aspects for children or sensitive viewers include: - Satirical portrayals of pathetic, hateful, or vile characters engaging in elegant opportunism, middle-class double standards, and ignorance, which can feel disturbing or uncomfortable. - Black humor without redemption or morals, blending discomfort, irony, and tenderness in depictions of chaos, consumerism, political correctness, and playing dumb. - Social criticism of tensions like soccer fanaticism, hidden savings culture, and friendship cliques, often through melancholy or unevenly humorous sketches that highlight human flaws without resolution.