Agustín Frías

Agustín Frías pops up on the radar thanks to The Astronaut Lovers (2024), a film that doesn’t really fit into any neat little box. It’s part science fiction, part love story, and a whole lot of “wait, what just happened?” The movie tosses viewers straight into a near-future world where space travel is actually pretty routine—like, people just hopping between planets as if it’s a regular Tuesday. But it’s not all smooth sailing. The story zooms in on two people who, against all odds and probably their better judgment, fall head over heels for each other while training for a mission that’s pretty much guaranteed to go sideways. The tension crackles from their first meeting—think awkward silences, accidental jokes, and the sort of chemistry that makes everyone else in the room uncomfortable in the best way. As their relationship heats up, so does the mission: something’s definitely off with the tech, the higher-ups are hiding stuff, and the line between “exploration” and “experiment” gets blurrier by the minute. There’s this underlying vibe that the whole thing could blow up, literally and emotionally, at any point. Frías doesn’t just focus on the couple, though. The supporting cast—other astronauts, ground crew, even a weirdly philosophical AI—bring their own baggage and quirks into the mix. It’s messy, it’s raw, and, honestly, it feels a lot closer to real life than most space flicks. Space isn’t just a backdrop; it’s kind of its own character, throwing curveballs left and right. The Astronaut Lovers isn’t afraid to ask big questions about love, risk, and what it actually means to be human when you’re floating god-knows-how-many miles from home.