Lucricia Martel's films pulse with ideas and nuance underneath their surface of foregrounded sound design and rich colors. In the Argentinean auteur's latest film the titular character's tidy middle-class existence starts to unravel when she accidentally hits a stray dog while driving. Or perhaps it was a local boy. Choosing to leave the scene before she finds out, the woman remains haunted by doubt, which soon becomes all-consuming. At once a damning commentary on Argentina's suppression of its own political traumas and a sly homage to cinema's many women on the edge, The Headless Woman is that rare film in which every frame is necessary viewing.