Phase 7

In a tense Buenos Ayres summer, Coco and his pregnant wife Pipi settle into a modest apartment, hoping the ordinary rhythms of market stalls, late‑night arguments over groceries, and quiet evenings will shield them from the growing unease outside the city’s walls. Their new home, however, is abruptly sealed off by a government‑mandated quarantine, turning the once‑familiar building into a confined world where every hallway hums with the low‑grade static of uncertainty and the thin promise of connection.

Inside the locked‑down complex, a mosaic of personalities begins to surface. Some residents cling to routine, while others drift into whispered speculation about the invisible threat looming beyond the stairwell doors. Among them, a self‑styled survivalist who has turned his apartment into a bunker offers a stark, almost clinical counterpoint to the couple’s tentative calm, proposing a more aggressive stance on safety and control. Across the floor, an elderly neighbor whose frailty becomes a silent focal point of collective anxiety adds another layer of fragile humanity to the mix.

As the building’s atmosphere tightens, Coco finds his role shifting from passive observer to uneasy participant in a fragile micro‑society. The closeness forced by quarantine amplifies the tension between self‑preservation and communal responsibility, while Pipi’s impending motherhood adds a quiet urgency to their decisions. The film lingers on the claustrophobic glow of dimly lit corridors, the muffled mutterings of neighbors, and the ever‑present sense that the ordinary can quickly become extraordinary when the world outside is held at arm’s length.

Last Updated: November 25, 2025 at 14:57