The Truce

In a modest Buenos Aires apartment, a quiet drama unfolds around Martín Santomé, a 49‑year‑old widower whose days are measured by routine and the subtle rhythms of a household that rarely makes its affection overt. His three children each occupy a distinct space in the family texture: the eldest son Esteban, whose distance hints at lingering bitterness; the middle child Blanca, whose warmth steadies the home; and the youngest, Jaime, who moves through the rooms with a secretive guardedness. The film opens on the ordinary—a birthday that might slip unnoticed—yet the everyday setting is charged with the unspoken yearning for something beyond the familiar.

The workplace mirrors Martín’s measured life until the arrival of two new colleagues disrupts the established order. Santini, a nervous and somewhat effeminate presence, brings an undercurrent of anxiety that rattles the office’s quiet equilibrium, while Laura, a bright and earnest young woman, quickly forms a connection with Martín that feels both professional and strangely personal. Their emerging rapport suggests an alternative path, a delicate shift that begins to tilt Martín’s long‑held sense of balance.

Outside the confines of home and work, a chance encounter on a city bus introduces a fleeting, impulsive moment that challenges Martín’s long‑standing self‑restraint. This brief brush with desire opens a door to questions of aging, longing, and the boundaries between duty and personal fulfillment, hinting at the possibility of renewal even as it unsettles the comfortable patterns he has built.

The film moves with compassionate realism, favoring quiet observation over melodrama. Its tone is patient and intimate, letting the subtle interplay of family dynamics, workplace tension, and tentative romance illuminate the larger questions of memory, hope, and the stubborn insistence on connection that persists even when life feels unyielding.

Last Updated: December 04, 2025 at 18:20