Only too much later, under the sexier but misleading re-title of Intimate Stories, did the Carlos Sorín Minimal Stories/Historias mínimas find any U.S. play at all. Even then, favorable reviews brought in few takers, for the public overlooked that Argentine gem that had first screened at the Film Society of Lincoln Center’s Latinbeat 2003: Recent Films from Latin America. The director’s second feature since then, which this time he has also co-scripted, is Bombon, the Dog/Bombón, el perro. One of twenty-one works representing nine southern neighbors, this ninety-six-minute piece New York-premières in September’s Latinbeat 2005.

Comparison is not always invidious, and in the present case this later, 2004 film begs to be aligned alongside its predecessor, “a continuation of [that] my previous film.” Both occur in western, famous, little-visited Patagonia, where stark undulating land -- think the Great Plains nearing the Rockies -- is haunting, lonely, and reflected in the characters. With wonderful body language, a largely non-professional cast is charming in Minimal Stories, as three distinct journeys to a bigger town cross naturally, if largely only physically, in seeking different goals.

Most central is that of “Grandpa” Justo, to recover his Malacara/Badface, the mongrel that ran away three years ago after what the man sees as his own act of moral failure. While that lovable mutt actually appears more briefly than the several interesting minor characters who flit in and then disappear for good, Bombon on the other hand depends on a single story and, in the end, is what the title might indicate, of interest perhaps for some doggie enthusiasts (and no more).

After two decades, at fifty-two Juan “Coco” Villegas (the screen début of Juan Villegas, a garage worker near Sorín’s production company) is let go by new ownership of an isolated YPF petrol station. His sole skill is carving admired bone or wooden knife handles which do not sell, his loving but short-tempered daughter (Mariela Díaz) has enough trouble with sleepy husband Tucumano (Rolo Andrada) and the kids, and Workpower employment agency is no help.

Kindly, with a perpetual self-deprecating hangdog grin, he tows a stranded motorist a hundred-and-fifty kilometers, whose cash-challenged mother insists that he accept as reward the dogo (untranslated, but “bull mastiff”) Lechien.  Man and large white canine get along fine, but the daughter puts her foot down.  Following a disastrous stint as wool warehouse guard and some cheap comedy at the Bank of Santa Cruz where severance pay will be made available, Juan is referred to mechanic-auto racing enthusiast-“ace” dog specialist Walter Donado (also in his début, Walter Donado, who provides animals for films and shows).

A purebred with papers, Lechien and his owner are prepped for dog shows by the boisterous Walter, who fantasizes fame, prize money and subsequent stud fees. Unconvincingly, their very first competition corrals a third-place trophy, which brings pride and fleeting love interest in Susana “Zaira” (Rosa Valsecchi) to Juan. But a rowdy restaurant celebration causes a slight hitch in plans, and then Lechien fails miserably at stud, a male dog that “has no libido . . . [but is] domestic and good to bring in your newspaper.”

In a supposedly comic twist, only Lechien will develop. Otherwise, the few cuddly humans grow tiresome. Just so much mileage can be squeezed from repeated gestures, wavy two-lane roads, shots through spattered windshields, and faces so framed as to be cut off above the hairline. As most all pre- or sequels prove, it is best not to go back to the well a second time. 

(Released in Argentina by 20th Century Fox; not rated by MPAA.)