A film crew in Argentina prepares to shoot the wild-but-true adventures of a man who in 1860 declared himself "King of Patagonia." The director's artistic vision and his producer's business sense struggle to complete the project while dealing with the complications of losing their financial backing, fighting government red tape, and juggling an off-the-street cast and crew -- including live pigs -- in an old bus.

As the movie weaves back and forth between real life and scenes from the film they are trying to create, the project disintegrates into a madness that parallels that of the King of Patagonia. Amid a surreal desert landscape, left with only mannequins as his actors, the director's dreams turn into dust and blow away in the Patagonian wind. But all is not lost...

This is an excellent movie, echoing the real-life attempts of Sorin to make his film about de Tounens, the historical figure who, inspired by stories of travellers returning from South America, decides to make the freedom of the Aracuana indians his goal, by proclaiming himself their ruler.

Entertaining, bizarre, funny, touching -- definitely worth the viewing.

Movie-making can sometimes be, at best, a desperate enterprise, which is one reason why the process lends itself so well to satire. In this slick but all-too accurate Argentine parody a director's devotion to his pet project gradually turns to obsession when Murphy's Law takes control: anything that can go wrong does go wrong, beginning on the eve of photography with the producer's disappearance and a mutiny among the cast. The lengths to which the frustrated auteur pursues his dream, a dramatized history of a 19th century French pioneer's ill-fated quest to declare himself king over primitive Patagonia, soon lead him into delusions of grandeur equal to those of his subject, and as a result his film grows more absurd and abstract as it continues. The satire works on several levels simultaneously, with the director himself becoming a surrogate emperor, and his megalomania suggesting a parallel to the country's turbulent political leadership.

How to express the pain and suffering of a director in a small country as he struggles to bring his movie to life and every circunstance is against him? Carlos Sorin, one of the most experienced Argentinian directors working in commercials, has done it so well, that I feel extremely proud to have worked with him years ago. With a touch of surrealism and some great performances, he creates a story to behold, as we don't know if to laugh or cry at the truth of his message. A celebration of the artist as a crazy fool.