← back
On Probation poster

On Probation

2005 · Damián Szifron

For when you want a crowd-pleaser with brains — a Friday-night action comedy that's actually well-made — or you're curious what the Wild Tales director was doing a decade earlier. Zero homework, all pleasure.

What it's about

Mariano, a mild Buenos Aires psychologist, is sentenced to community service after a traffic accident — and his assignment is Alfredo, a police detective too devastated by his wife's affair to function. The therapy has to happen on the job: couch sessions conducted mid-car-chase, heartbreak analyzed at gunpoint, as Mariano gets dragged ever deeper into Alfredo's double-homicide case.

The experience

A fast, funny ride that keeps topping itself — buddy-comedy banter welded to action set pieces of genuinely surprising scale, including a helicopter sequence with real Hollywood swagger. It's the rare action-comedy where you care about both the jokes and the friendship.

Performances

Diego Peretti's fretful, over-analytical shrink and Luis Luque's heartbroken bear of a cop make a classic mismatched pair — the comedy comes from how seriously both men take their absurd arrangement.

The craft

Damián Szifron stages widescreen action with a precision and scale Argentine budgets weren't supposed to allow, and the script's trick is structural: every set piece doubles as a therapy session, so the genre machinery and the emotional story advance in the same breath. It's American genre mechanics executed with local wit and real warmth.

Why it matters

A beloved cult favorite in Argentina that proved national cinema could pull off Hollywood-scale genre filmmaking — and the clearest early signal of the talent that would explode internationally with Wild Tales.

Reception & legacy: how On Probation was received, argued over, and remembered →

Known at home as Tiempo de valientes, Damián Szifron's second feature pairs a mild psychologist — sentenced to community service after a traffic accident — with a Buenos Aires detective too heartbroken over his wife's affair to work his own double-homicide case. The therapy happens mid-investigation: couch sessions conducted across car chases, transference analyzed at gunpoint. A decade before Wild Tales became a Cannes sensation and an Oscar nominee, Szifron was already the great Argentine student of American genre mechanics — he had created the beloved TV series Los simuladores — and here he stages widescreen set pieces of a scale and precision Argentine budgets were not supposed to allow, including a helicopter sequence of genuine Hollywood swagger. But the machinery serves a buddy movie of real warmth, built on the national talent for talking through feelings at length and under fire. In Argentina the film is quoted, rewatched, treated as common property; abroad it circulated mostly by word of mouth, a cult title passed hand to hand. Watching it now is like finding Wild Tales' engine already assembled, humming, waiting for the world to notice.

Lines of influence