An enormous Steinway & Sons piano dominates a cramped and untidy apartment in Buenos Aires, belonging to the 91-year-old twin sisters Isabel and Amelia Cavallini. Once they formed a celebrated piano duo with a blossoming career in the United States. Just as the instrument is actually a little too big for their modest residence, the sisters’ personalities no longer seem to fit their now fragile bodies. In this final part of her trilogy on old age and art (preceded by Las cinéphilas and Le temps perdu), María Alvarez follows these elderly ladies as they shuffle along the path of their memories, which surround them in every corner of their house. Squabbling among themselves, the sisters commentate on lively images from the time they ventured into the world to perform their music. They’ve devoted their lives to art, to the concert stage, and most of all to each other—their strong, symbiotic bond can be felt in every interaction. Alongside the details from their glory days, unexpected fragility comes to the surface in this tender portrait of two characters who are as independent as they are inseparable.