Remo Rides Again—In a Mink Coat This Time
Nahuel Pérez Biscayart just galloped into WTF territory—and cinephiles are foaming at the mouth. The US trailer for Kill the Jockey has dropped, and it's a sweaty, surreal, equine noir fever dream that twists gender, genre, and your grip on reality.
Directed by Luis Ortega (El Angel, Narcos: Mexico), this Argentinian mind-bender has already made the festival rounds—Venice, Toronto, Tokyo—and finally trots into US theaters July 2, 2025, via Music Box Films. Circle that date. Cancel your plans. This isn't just hype—it's a countdown.
This Ain't Seabiscuit. It's Gender Fluid Heat With Horse Drugs.
You think you've seen a “down-on-his-luck antihero”? Remo Manfredi says hold my ketamine. He's a washed-up jockey mainlining horse meds, haunted by gambling debts, with a pregnant girlfriend and a Japanese thoroughbred named Mishima that might be his last shot—or his final trip to the ER.
But here's the turn that has Letterboxd lighting up: After a crash-and-burn injury and a love triangle gone nuclear, Remo re-emerges in full disguise—mink coat, femme persona, the alias Dolores. Yep, Ortega's jockey story swerves into a full-on identity fugue, complete with mob threats, hallucinatory detours, and a Buenos Aires backdrop that's all grit and gloss.
If this sounds insane, that's because it is. Think The Rider by way of Dogtooth, with a touch of Almodóvarian swagger—and a lead performance so raw it should come with a warning label.
What's Really Happening Here? This Is Argentina's Fight Club Moment.
Here's the thing: Kill the Jockey isn't just weird for weird's sake. Ortega's work often lives in the liminal—his 2018 breakout El Angel was a glittery serial killer story that leaned more on desire than dread. Now he's tackling the collapse of masculine identity via a jockey's body in freefall.
The trailer alone hints at gender as performance, identity as escape hatch, and desire as a weapon. It's part crime comedy, part fable, part political scream. Pérez Biscayart (best known for 120 BPM) slips so seamlessly between Remo and Dolores that the line isn't just blurred—it's erased.
This ain't Hollywood “woke-bait” casting either. This is Latin America doing what it does best: letting cinema get sweaty, spiritual, and unclassifiable.
Genius or Just Galloping Off the Rails?
Would you watch this or burn $20 on a losing trifecta ticket? No judgment. (Okay—some judgment.)
With Kill the Jockey, Luis Ortega might've just given Argentina its most genre-bending, brain-melting export since Gaspar Noé's Climax. And honestly? That's a compliment.
