Three decades later, the project for the reconstruction of the Civic Center of the province of San Juan is back on track, and, as though nothing had ever happened, the bureaucratic machine seems to combine with the cranes and human strength and the megalomaniac desire that such a venture implies. There, in that interruption and resumption of the activity, in the monumental recovery of lost dreams and projects that suddenly come back to life (as if they were architektonic zombies), it’s right there that Mariano Donoso sees a film. If in his debut Opus Donoso already toyed with the contradictions of what his province would like to be and what it finally is, in Tekton those paradoxes become sharper. Lucid and critical, very far from documentaries that follow a process but without moving away from the model of observation documentaries, Donoso makes the beauty of his images dialogue with some amazing, mysterious, poetic texts that turn image and sound into two dancing, conflicting dimensions, almost like imagination and work, or like the two stages of the project, or like the tiny, heroic place human beings are bound to fill before these contemporary pyramids (BAFICI).