As with Camila Guzmán Urzúa's The Sugar Curtain, Carmen Castillo's Calle Santa Fe charts a female filmmaker's trip back to the homeland she fled years earlier, a journey that instigates an inquiry into the nature of memory and the condition of exile. The difference between the two, however, is that the former is poignant, subtle, and evocative, and the latter is redundant, artless, and lacking anything approaching directorial restraint. An intensely personal project, the nonfiction film documents Castillo's recent return to Chile, which she fled while pregnant in 1974 for Paris after her husband Miguel Enriquez, leader of the Movement of the Revolutionary Left (MIR), was killed in a gunfight at their house on the titular street. It doesn't take long before Calle Santa Fe begins spinning its wheels, in large part because the director's discussions with former friends, neighbors, and colleagues cover very similar territory and, worse still, have barely been edited.