Pedro Sotero

Pedro Sotero’s got this eye for turning the ordinary into something you just can’t peel your gaze from. Seriously, you watch Bacurau and it’s like every frame is sweating with tension—dusty roads, weird little details, all that heat and menace just simmering underneath. The dude doesn’t shy away from making you feel a bit on edge, like something’s about to snap, and you just can’t look away. Bacurau’s not just a thriller; it’s got these deep, thorny roots in Brazilian culture, and Pedro’s camera work? Man, it drags you through every twist—feels like you’re right there, eating dust and squinting into the sun. Then there’s O Som ao Redor (Neighboring Sounds), which is kind of a whole different beast. Here, he’s all about creeping dread, the ordinary weirdness of apartment life, neighbors who are just a little too nosy, little cracks in the walls—literal and metaphorical. He’s not doing flashy stuff, just letting the unease sneak up on you. You ever get that feeling someone’s watching from behind a curtain? That’s Sotero’s vibe. Rojo’s a trip too, with this washed-out, almost retro palette. It’s set in Argentina, all political tension and moral gray zones, and every shot feels super intentional, like nothing’s there by accident. Pedro’s style isn’t about big explosions or wild camera moves—it’s about atmosphere, people’s faces, the stuff that doesn’t get said out loud. He’s got a real knack for letting a place breathe, making you notice what’s lurking in the corners.