15.12.2025
Another unhurried Kampala evening at Aftersun Film Club, this time exploring a new theme: Quiet Alliance, with something smaller, gentler, and deceptively simple—Bombón: El Perro by Carlos Sorín. A film that barely raises its voice, yet somehow speaks directly to the parts of us that know how to wait.
Aftersunettes travelled to the wide, patient landscapes of Patagonia, where the film follows Juan Villegas, a middle-aged man whose life has quietly narrowed. He loses his job at a petrol station, his daughter has moved on, and his days stretch out with little promise. Then, almost accidentally, a dog enters his life—Bombón, a large Dogo Argentino, gifted to him by a stranger. What follows is not a dramatic turnaround but a slow rearranging. No speeches. No redemption arc. Just small shifts. Slight openings.
The movie does not seem to follow a plot in the traditional sense, but a series of small permissions. Juan accepts lifts. He accepts conversations. He accepts opportunities that feel less like choices and more like things that simply happen to him. And yet, by the end of the film, we weren’t so sure that passivity was the right word.
The room felt oddly alert after the credits rolled. Several people admitted they spent most of the film waiting for something bad to happen. A loss. A betrayal. A punishment for all that quiet. But it never arrived. The tension, it turned out, was our own. It turned out that many of us have been trained to distrust gentleness, to believe that calm is only a prelude to disaster.
During the discussion, we disagreed—beautifully—about Juan himself. Was he passive, drifting through life as things occurred around him? Or was he quietly intentional, practicing a different kind of agency: the courage to say yes? To accept help without drama. To move forward without announcing it.
Somewhere in there, someone pointed out that luck plays a strange role in the film. Doors open for Juan, often without him knocking. But maybe luck, we decided, isn’t random at all. Maybe it’s what meets you when you’re open enough to receive it. Maybe purpose sometimes looks like agreeing to what life offers instead of insisting on a plan.
There were lighter moments too. A running joke emerged about Bombón’s… preferences. Let’s just say he appears to have a type, and it isn’t the pristine, high-status option. The room laughed, not just because it was funny, but because it felt aligned with the film’s quiet politics: choosing warmth over pedigree, comfort over appearance, and connection over display.
What stayed with many of us was how the film handles kindness. No speeches. No moral lessons. Just people helping each other in ways that feel provisional, even awkward. A shared meal. A favour. A tip passed along. These alliances don’t promise longevity, but they keep people going. Sometimes that’s enough.
By the end of the evening, Bombón: El Perro had left us thinking about how alliances can form without ceremony. How lives can intersect briefly and still matter. How saying yes—to a dog, to a stranger, to a chance encounter—might be far more active and far more brave than we usually give it credit for.
Maybe not every life change arrives loudly. Some just sit beside you, quietly, and wait.
As always,
Take Care
Aftersun Cinema & cafe 
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