STRANGERS IN THE PARK (2026)

Argentinian writer-director Juan José Campanella is best known, at least outside his home country, for The Secret in Their Eyes / El Secreto de Sus Ojos (2009), a gripping tale of criminal investigation, obsession and defiant love. But most of his other movies have been comedies — even Secret has occasional humorous touches — and while his latest, Strangers in the Park / Parque Lezama, has its share of sad and serious moments, it is still comedy, often verging on the absurd, that provides the bulk of the film.

It’s based on Campanella’s stage play Parque Lezama, which premiered in Buenos Aires in 2013, and the film makes no effort to conceal its origins. Not only do the two leads from the stage cast, Eduardo Blanco and Luis Brandoni, reprise their roles, but the entire story is set over several days and nights in one small corner of a Buenos Aires park. Campanella’s play was itself a reworking of Herb Gardner’s 1985 Broadway success I’m Not Rappaport, set in New York’s Central Park and filmed in 1996 with Walter Matthau and Ossie Davis; that film seems all but forgotten nowadays.

Antonio (Blanco) and León (Brandoni) are present virtually throughout. Other characters come and go as needed, appearing and disappearing like actors in the wings, existing largely to illustrate points about the two men. Not that the main points need much elucidation: subtlety isn’t Campanella’s intention here, and their differences are obvious from the outset.

The first we meet is Antonio, an 85-year-old superintendent at an apartment building who has visited the park for three years to read his paper — though he likely can’t read much now, given his failing eyesight. Shortly afterwards, the slightly older León arrives. A park newcomer, he settles on the same bench, but it’s not until later that we learn much about his life; it quickly becomes clear that nothing he says can be trusted.

León is constantly talkative, while Antonio is more reserved. León is fanciful; Antonio is grounded. León is a confrontational, diehard Marxist who seems to still dwell in the class struggles of the past (“I keep my enemies,” he says); Antonio is more acquiescent, preferring an easy life to social justice.

Unsurprisingly, they don’t become fast friends, and for a while, they seem to talk past each other rather than communicating. To Antonio, León is intrusive and annoying; to León, Antonio is unimaginative and unambitious. Inevitably, though, this being a movie, they start to form a bond, even if Antonio remains a reluctant participant in León’s more far-fetched antics.

Initially, León seems simply a teller of tall tales — this Argentinian-Jewish octogenarian outlandishly claims to be a spy using a fake Rwandan identity — but it soon becomes apparent that he’s also willing to put his fantasies into action. About fifteen minutes into the movie, a new character arrives: Gonzalo (Agustín Aristarán), a young entrepreneur on the tenants’ committee of Antonio’s building, whose friendly manner barely conceals his desire to sack the old man.

León comes to the rescue with a ridiculous but highly entertaining masquerade as a lawyer. Later, he perpetrates further deceptions on a drug dealer (Matías Alarcón) and his own adult daughter (Verónica Pelaccini), as well as launching a spirited defence against a young man (Alan Fernández) trying to shake down the two elderly gents. The performances are all persuasive, with the two leads providing variety through subtle nuances, though it’s telling that the most convincing characterisation comes from Pelaccini, whose role is the least caricatured.

That anyone would actually fall for León’s wilder pretences is deeply implausible, but their preposterousness is the joke. There’s plenty of droll dialogue too (“Was your wife alive?” “According to her”), but the humour of Strangers in the Park is primarily situational and character-driven. Consequently, it doesn’t jar when Campanella occasionally steers the film towards moments of genuine sadness, such as Antonio reflecting on the prospect of losing his job and home, or León realising how alienated he has become from his daughter.

The focus on León and Antonio remains total. Aside from a few shots providing context of park life (children playing, dog walkers), the film barely strays from their bench. A single shot of León from behind, silhouetted against buildings just outside the park’s boundary, is so different that it’s striking.

Individual scenes seem to elapse in real time, although the narrative spans several days or even weeks. Campanella’s writing and direction refrain from abrupt changes; one episode flows into the next, with only a few major shifts to avoid monotony. Emilio Kauderer’s musical score, mostly consisting of discreet piano, also maintains this sense of continuity.

All this could be a meta-allusion to the passing of time in old age, just as the golden light bathing the park could be a sly dig at the way we often sentimentalise retirement. Certainly, there are plenty of overt references to the elderly.

León says that “both of us are ghosts” and comments on the paucity of pensions. Antonio’s desire to keep his job is as much about being needed as it is about money. Gonzalo fails to grasp this, but León gets it: “It’s one thing to call someone slow, blind or stupid. But to call them unnecessary is unforgivable.”

Antonio poignantly observes that while his sight is failing, he still sees sharply in dreams. León, defending his impersonations, asks: “If I was one person for 86 years, why can’t I be a hundred different ones in the next five?” He might be old, but he’s not done with living. Just as in The Secret in Their Eyes, exterior circumstances might change, but interior passions continue to burn.

It would be possible to see specific social commentary in Strangers in the Park, even in León’s assumed identities, but I’m not sure it needs such dissection to be understood. Its meaning is as clear and simple as its structure.

When Antonio says “this is a big park, you know, and it has everything”, the metaphor of setting-as-life is blatant. The opening titles even suggest that this is a timeless story (though the appearance of prescribed cannabis and a reference to an app replacing Antonio place it firmly in the last decade).

So, it is exactly what it looks like: a celebration of human variety, of survival and friendship amid all the vicissitudes; a kind of upbeat riposte to Waiting for Godot. Though it’s hard to imagine two films less similar, I was reminded of Ralph Fiennes at the end of 28 Years Later: The Bone Temple (2026) affirming that “there’s just us”. We can become preoccupied by payments or philosophies, but it all boils down to people in the end.

Some will undoubtedly find Strangers in the Park too theatrical, too self-conscious, or too arch. But there’s real humanity beneath its eccentricity, and it grows on you — just as León does on Antonio.

ARGENTINA | 2026 | 115 MINUTES | COLOUR | SPANISH

Cast & Crew

writer & director: Juan José Campanella (based on his stage play).
starring: Luis Brandoni, Eduardo Blanco, Verónica Pelaccini & Agustín Aristarán.