The story is a variation on an oft-explored theme – a city under the control of a tyrannical and devious figure using insidious methods to subjugate the inhabitants. In this case, our villain, Mr TV (Alejandro Urdapilleta), has taken away the city’s voices, leaving (perhaps unwittingly) one woman, aptly dubbed, ‘The Voice’ (Florencia Raggi), and her eyeless son (Jonathan Sandor) with their voices intact. The Voice is the star feature on Mr. TV’s programming, used to entrance and control the rapt masses. The inhabitants of this silent city also get rationed out boxed ‘TV food’, which appears to be a giant biscuit of sorts, decorated with a solitary spiral.

Enter our heroes: a young girl called Ana (Sol Moreno), her father (Rafael Ferro), his father (Ricardo Merkin), and later, Ana’s mother (Julieta Cardinali). Ana discovers and befriends The Voice’s secret son. It transpires that he can be used to save the city from its mass hypnosis. All they need to do is locate a certain aerial, repair some ingenious machinery and hope for the best.

Set in a beautifully stark and sorrowful city, adorned with a continuous smattering of snowfall, La antena’s striking imagery is further enriched by a haunting, dramatic and compelling soundtrack, which more than makes up for any lack of dialogue. Added to this is a playful use of animated subtitles, which dance across the frame and around characters as they silently ‘speak’ to each other. The film is peppered with other little twists and turns, but I shall (rather generously) let you discover them for yourself.

It may be tempting to dismiss La antena as an unnecessary fusion of Fritz Lang and Tim Burton, with perhaps a touch of old-school Soviet styling thrown in for good measure. True, the film does share Burton’s fanciful approach (and love of spirals), as well as paying respects to German expressionism and silent film in general. Despite the abundance of homage within the film, it is distinctive and innovative enough to have its own individual presence. The story itself is familiar territory, but it is told with enough vigour and flair to keep things interesting. Such a film is not to everyone’s taste, for certain, but this lack of compromise is a real strength, giving the film a sense of purity rarely felt in most contemporary films.

The only faux pas is the use of Nazi and Jewish symbolism, which is rather puzzling and adds no discernable meaning to what is otherwise a cautionary tale on the hypnotic power of television. Misguided allusions aside, this is one of this year’s most beguiling films.