A group of girls and boys in their twenties settle in a country house that seems completely isolated from civilization. One of them writes a novel while the others try to become a gang and prepare a robbery; some fall in love, or seem to be, or believe (or say) they are in love. But these two, three, ten plot lines unfold from what the characters hide or just don’t know, connecting the writing of the novel and the forming of the gang, and the past of two of the characters with that of the house, and of those who perhaps were the two most bitter enemies of nineteenth century Argentine history.
Piñeiro’s sparkling debut film breathlessly follows a clever, capricious young woman as she carefully interweaves friends and lovers into an intricate web of secretive yet often unexpectedly compassionate games. Together with her best friend and fellow tour guide at a rival Buenos Aires historical museum, Piñeiro’s headstrong heroine attempts to tame the unpredictable course of her heart, eccentrically drawing inspiration from Sarmiento’s magnum opus, Facundo. With its grainy 16mm black-and-white cinematography, its political sub- and super-texts and its compelling portrait of impetuous youth, The Stolen Man recalls the alternately sober and sprightly nouvelle vague of Jean Eustache and Jacques Rivette. [Source — Harvard Film Archive]