Lárgate 2

The scouts

A three-minute film about a mosquito hassling an old man sounds like the setup for a greeting card, except Gómez treats it like an existential standoff—the premise's total refusal to escalate or explain itself is exactly the kind of formal stubbornness that makes people uncomfortable, which means it's probably doing something right.

Gómez positions this squarely in the tradition of Tati-esque observational comedy, where the minimal plot becomes a scaffold for gestural precision and the rhythm of lived annoyance; the craft lives in what doesn't happen, and the editing knows to stay out of the way.

The decision to hold on the old man's face through the entire encounter—no reaction shots, no cuts to the mosquito's POV—forces all the comedy and tension into his micro-expressions and stillness, and that single compositional choice transforms a nothing-premise into something genuinely unsettling.