In Zinzindurrunkarratz, Oskar Alegria sets out on a journey to recover the past. With a Super-8 camera that belonged to his father and has remained untouched for 41 years, he plans to retrace the path of the shepherd — the journey of transhumance that his grandfather took in his youth whose exact coordinates nobody remembers today. The result is a film that takes delight in both the search and the many detours that come with it. Shot in the north of Spain — between Artazu and the Andia mountain range — Zinzindurrunkarratz is made of fields, animals, wind, flowers, trees, fires, precious objects and rituals, herbs, blizzards, home movies, family memories, lullabies... Mostly silent, the film is accompanied by on-screen text that poetically complements the images and muses on the creative process. Intermittently, however, snippets of sound make an appearance: like the gold used by the Japanese to mend broken vases, these aural elements serve to unite the fragments and cover the cracks. By paying attention to the gestures of a lost time enacted by previous generations — gestures that are slowly vanishing amidst the technological revolution — Alegria composes a regional song, a family memento and a deeply felt homage to the mother. (Cristina Álvarez López)