Victor Ruano

Carty has a new baby, a tense marriage, and four months of fragile sobriety. When he discovers a twenty dollar bill with a message written on it, an obsession begins. Will it free him? Or destroy him?

Filmed in stunning black and white, this immersive dive into the the lives of of the people of Quelepa, El Salvador feels as if a young Carlos Reygadas (SILENT LIGHT, POST TENEBRAS LUX) worked with Harvard’s Sensory Ethnography Lab to create an experimental slice of life that’s as vibrant as it is enigmatic. As we spend time with our central character, we slowly peel back the layers of his daily life and experiences catching glimpses of the people around him in this small mountain village teeming with history.

In a series of seemingly disjointed vignettes, including an extensive look into the lives of local transgender sex workers, “El Cadaver Exquisito” juxtaposes unscripted everyday rituals with staged dream sequences to provide social commentary on violence in El Salvador, especially against women.

At night, in front of a small Caribbean house, a sign advertises a repair service for the husband. Inside, a witch and her apprentice try without success with the repairman on duty: an excessively pale man with a Chaplinesque mustache. When the witch decides to go to sleep, irritated by her failure, the apprentice tries to demonstrate her skills with the help of a necklace, an old record player, and some dance steps.