An account of the life and work of the Spanish poet Luis García Montero; a journey through his experiences, his mentors, his influences and his contact with other artists, both from the literary world and from other disciplines.

Planet Earth, 9177. The remains of humankind live in a post-apocalyptic environment divided into only two social classes: the ruling king and the oligarchs who inhabit the Representative Building and the poor of the world who hardly survive in the slums built around it.

Will love compromise one man's devotion to heavy rock? That's the all-important question behind this broad comedy from Spain. Isi (Santiago Segura) and Disi (Florentino Fernandez) are two best friends who live in a lower middle-class neighborhood near Madrid. Isi and Disi aren't especially bright, but their devotion to heavy metal is complete and unquestioned, and they wouldn't be caught dead listening to a lame pop singer like, say , Joaquin Sabina. However, one day Isi sees Vane (Jaydy Michel), a beautiful girl who attends a nearby college, and immediately falls head over heels in love.

They still carry his house keys with them, Joaquin Sabina's old friends. It does not matter that the Madrid-based singer, who is adored throughout the Spanish-speaking community, changed the locks to his house years ago. After the brain haemorrhage that hit him in 2001, Sabina suddenly could not bear the dozens of friends anymore that invaded his house. This was a raw deal for them, as the interviews reveal that director Ramón Gieling had with them. As in Gieling's previous documentaries, he created a cinematographic form for the interviews, which he consistently applies. Friends and former lovers are introduced in a minutely reconstructed copy of the living room they were expelled from. In the real living room, they used to lead a loose life without thinking about the health risks.

The first time ever 2 great Spanish artist join together on an international stage

Jon Sistiaga gives an inside and outside look into Argentina's Barra Bravas, the world's most violent football fans, who besides being radical fanatics for their club, they're organized as true mafias.

Joan Manuel Serrat fled to Mexico when Franco ordered his persecution. In Argentina and Chile, his commitment against military regimes is still remembered. Joaquín Sabina arrived later. His poetry bewitched the audience. In Argentina, he is a tango singer as much as a rocker; in Mexico, the mariachis sing their songs. The former is a symbol, a venerated figure; the latter is a “cuate,” as they say in Mexico, a buddy with whom you can always count.

These two birds back to join their voices, between lyric and tear, Serrat and Sabina. During a previous tour viewers could overthrow them both with one shot, but this time that these birds will soar on shotguns. Each with its splendor, with its poison. Joan Manuel Serrat keeps intact the moral, tough, committed contempt of difficult times, but always wrapped in the aura of a joy of living, in favor of simple pleasures, the melancholy of those trams transported to the beaches on Sunday to overcome people and returned to the city only defeated by the sun, with salty lips and burned skin. And among so many words of love Serrat, the hoarse cries of Sabina, both fused, and although the two crossing their songs, one with guitar and the heart will scratch another liver.