We went back to the office to meet some other crew members. There was to be a dinner last for the birthday of our art director but unfortunately a crisis emerged around 9pm and that squashed the evenings plans. So Ellen and I returned to the hotel. Standing outside the hotel, The Alvear Palace, was none other than James Carville, President Clinton's political guru. So we chatted with him for a few moments before he was whisked away in a car.
Ellen and I had a quiet dinner in the bar. Just as Ellen was thinking that the bartender reminded her of her agent in Los Angeles, she received a text from Robert warning her about suave italian argentines. Whacky.
We retired and it was good to get a full night's sleep. Today is more meetings and a visit to the local equipment house.
Stables and grounds of the polo farm:



The director, Fredrik Bond, discusses shots with Ellen:



We scouted a block of depressing early 1980's housing flats in the city. Very delapitated and reminiscent of eastern european bleakness. I tried to think of it in it's sterile heyday. A setting worthy of Antonioni. A pouty Monica Vitti wandering aimlessly amongst the complex's bleak angles.
I was, however, taken aback by this mural hidden between two buildings. A reproduction of Picasso's famous anti-war mural, Guernica and this other image of an insane man with gun.



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