THE STORY – A retired legal counselor writes a novel hoping to find closure for one of his past unresolved homicide cases and for his unreciprocated love with his superior.
THE CAST – Ricardo Darín, Soledad Villamil, Pablo Rago, Javier Godino & Guillermo Francella
THE TEAM – Juan José Campanella (Director/Writer) & Eduardo Sacheri (Writer)
THE RUNNING TIME – 128 Minutes
Unrequited love and an unsolved murder case are reexamined in Juan José Campanella’s “The Secret in Their Eyes” (“El secreto de sus ojos”), a nonlinear investigative Argentine drama that resonates far beyond a procedural. Campanella intertwines mystery and romance with a compelling character study, told from a historical lens. Based on Eduardo Sacheri’s 2005 novel “The Question in Their Eyes” (“La pregunta de sus ojos”), the film skillfully explores personal and state violence amidst political and social unrest in Argentina during the 1970s and 1990s. With justice deemed marginal compared to politics, Campanella’s core characters take matters into their own hands to uphold morality. Tremendous performances by Ricardo Darín, Guillermo Francella, and Soledad Villamil bring personality and poignancy to a film that adheres to the phrase: the devil is in the details. Campanella’s suspenseful direction makes for an emotionally resonant (and at times very upsetting) watch about enduring love, pain, and the evasiveness of true justice.
In 1974, 23-year-old Liliana Coloto was raped and murdered in her home. Liliana’s husband, Ricardo Morales, is promised by legal counselor Benjamin Espósito (Darín) that the killer will be caught and sentenced to life imprisonment. While looking over an album provided by Morales, Espósito notices the suspicious eyes of a man who appears in multiple photos, either standing nearby or looking towards Liliana. With help from his assistant Pablo Sandoval (Francella) and their new department chief, Irene Menéndez-Hastings (Villamil), Espósito narrows in on a prime suspect. It seems justice is served, until Espósito‘s professional rival Romano (Mariano Argento) intervenes to benefit the right-wing faction of a political party, sparking two decades of more secrets and lies. The case goes cold for 25 years until 1999, when it becomes source material for the novel Espósito is writing in search of closure. Retired and reaching the end of his life, he revisits the phantom memories that have perplexed his mind.
By framing the story around Espósito as he reflects on the events of 1974 onward, the film unravels into a compelling commentary about flawed justice systems and personal definitions of justice. Each revelation in the case marks the beginning of an endless journey. Even when Espósito does get a sense of closure, given the shocking truth he discovers in 1999 — one of the most powerful twists in film history — he is still left with the lingering impact of what he remembers, and which moments slipped through the cracks. When Espósito approaches Irene (whom he secretly adores) with this novel idea, he has a thousand beginnings and no endings. She advises him that the image he remembers next should be the one he starts with. The film unfolds in a similar vein with its nonlinear structure, drawing on visual elements from the past to question how they piece together the future. With this structure, the viewer is given a layered insight into Espósito‘s character and an emphasis on how a single look can create emotional impact.
Campanella lingers on character interactions and specifically prolonged eye contact as though holding onto fragmented memories before they fade forever. One of the film’s most intense examples is an interrogation scene featuring Espósito, Irene, and the murder suspect, as Irene employs manipulation tactics to provoke the murderer’s insecurities. From observing the behaviors and outbursts, it’s clear how this moment becomes a disturbing turning point in the investigation. A similarly intense scene involving all three characters in an elevator speaks to a chilling level of political corruption and a broken legal system. Both scenes are among Campanella’s direction at its very best, not to mention a showcase of brilliant performances all around, each focused on the tensions beneath exteriors.
Darín and Villamil’s chemistry has a quietly powerful hold on the story, as their characters’ unspoken romance endures an interwoven timeline of murder, suspense, psychological drama, and fragmented memories. Their relationship also emphasizes recurring themes of painful love – for Espósito and Irene, it’s unrequited affection. For Ricardo (Pablo Rago), the grieving widower of Liliana (Carla Quevedo), it’s grief. The film draws an intriguing parallel between Espósito and Ricardo, who both confront justice with personal versions of closure. Their conversations are effectively scattered across the two time periods, and each interaction is among the film’s most riveting moments — full of concealed secrets, written across their faces and reverberating between the lines. Rago’s performance stands out as he conveys a certain inquisitiveness in his eyes, making the character’s thought process speak louder volumes on a re-watch. While he adds some context to his relationship with Liliana, the film lacks characterization for Liliana herself, showing her only through violent flashbacks.
The overall use of flashbacks is convoluted at times, particularly during key moments of revelation in the film’s second half, where they are used to dramatically connect the dots. However, the story excels through consistent pacing, a deliberately slow build of tension that encourages the viewer to absorb as many narrative details and visual cues as possible. Félix Monti’s cinematography incorporates the past with bold colors and the future with a muted, desaturated palette for differentiating between time jumps. Adding to the visual language, convincing old-age makeup and lived-in production design effectively evoke the feeling of years having passed.
The film also features an astonishing football stadium sequence, accompanied by incredibly effective music, that looks impressively similar to a one-take shot. There’s also the adrenaline rush of a passionate sports crowd — the camera navigates through a sea of people to reach Espósito and Sandoval as they scan for the murder suspect, then follows them through an intense chase just as a goal is scored. It’s not just the technical achievements that make this scene reverberate, but the context that precedes it: when Sandoval discovers the meaning behind certain names listed in the suspect’s letters, he adds an insightful commentary on how one can change nearly everything about their lives, except for their passion.
As one of only two Argentine films to win the Best International Feature Film Oscar (the first being Luis Puenzo’s “The Official Story” in 1985), “The Secret in Their Eyes” has a special place in cinema history, and its impact feels just as powerful in retrospect. Campanella’s layered storytelling builds to an unforgettable ending with a thematically fitting last line. The slow-building approach and compelling performances make for a thought-provoking journey through time and the memories that haunt us.
