In 1971, the graphic and advertising artist Juan Fresán set out to film the story of Orélie Antoine de Tounens, the delirious Frenchman who 100 years earlier had proclaimed himself ‘King of Patagonia and Araucanía’, with his own constitution, currency and ministers. The film, titled "New France," was left unfinished, first due to lack of funds and then because its author had to go into exile. If the story is familiar to many today, this is because in the '80s Carlos Sorín made' The King's movie ', inspired by that frustrated shoot, in which he had worked as a cinematographer. In 2004, Fresán contacted Turturro to help him rescue the preserved film. Fresán died in that same year, but Turturro decided to retake the trace of that truncated film, exhuming unpublished materials, returning to their original settings and gathering testimonies, to illuminate the two stories - one within the other - that make up this true story, more strange and fascinating than any fiction.

In 1971, the graphic and advertising artist Juan Fresán set out to film the story of Orélie Antoine de Tounens, the delirious Frenchman who 100 years earlier had proclaimed himself ‘King of Patagonia and Araucanía’, with his own constitution, currency and ministers. The film, titled "New France," was left unfinished, first due to lack of funds and then because its author had to go into exile. If the story is familiar to many today, this is because in the '80s Carlos Sorín made' The King's movie ', inspired by that frustrated shoot, in which he had worked as a cinematographer. In 2004, Fresán contacted Turturro to help him rescue the preserved film. Fresán died in that same year, but Turturro decided to retake the trace of that truncated film, exhuming unpublished materials, returning to their original settings and gathering testimonies, to illuminate the two stories - one within the other - that make up this true story, more strange and fascinating than any fiction.