Toponimia is an Argentine documentary film directed by Jonathan Perel and released in 2015. A captivating exploration of memory, history, and space, the movie delves into the political landscape of Argentina while presenting an interaction between geography and power. This 82-minute long film portrays the point of view of the filmmaker about the last military dictatorial governance in Argentina that took place from 1976 to 1983—a nonconventional portrayal that is both intriguing and contemplative.

The film expands on Perel's previous explorations of geography and architecture's role in preserving Argentina's contentious history. The title, Toponimia, is a geographical term related to the study of place names, deriving from the Greek words "topos" (place) and "onoma" (name). It's thus poetically appropriate given the nature of the film, which investigates a particular set of places named by the military dictatorship.

Toponimia organizes the narrative around the four rural towns (Rafaela, Trenel, General Roca, and San Martín) that were erected in Córdoba province by the military governance, each named after the important junctures of the Argentinian Revolutionary War. These towns were thoughtfully designed, to reflect a semblance of unity, measured harmony, and achieved peace—each town with 16 blocks, a school, a police station, a healthcare center, and a central plaza named after the mothers of the revolution.

In a measured and meticulous manner, Toponimia showcases the urban outlines of these towns with aerial views of the landscapes and city layouts devoid of their inhabitants, with their general silence interrupted only by the factual commentary by the director. This method effectively provides an eerie atmosphere, emphasizing the quietude of these remote locations and their somnolent existence in the Argentine backlands.

From the symmetrical street lines to the neat surrounding fields, the viewer observes a strange utopia that is more akin to a desolate memorial than living habitations. Alongside these haunting visual sequences, Perel's voiceover narrates the origin of these vignettes' names, excerpts are read from history textbooks, military brochures, municipal archives, and annals that describe how the towns were collectively designed as model Argentine towns. The ideology becomes even more apparent as the narrator describes how these towns' inhabitants were handpicked according to the dictatorial governance's idea of a perfect Argentine citizen.

What makes Toponimia interesting is the complete absence of dramatized sequences or any attempt to fictionalize the narrative. It is devoid of conventional storytelling techniques with a significant lack of characters and a dramatic storyline. The director tells the narrative in a minimalist, detached manner—much like the sparse and cold atmosphere of the towns he films.

However, this rhythmic, austere style does not make the film distant or its subject less engaging. Instead, it becomes an aspiration towards objectivity, a desire to show the architecture and geography as silent witnesses of a totalitarian experiment. Perel's mode of storytelling underlines the towns as living artifacts of the regime's dreams of uniformity, order, and absolute control, leaving a profound impact on audiences.

Importantly, the lack of people in the initial parts of the film doesn't persist. As the storyline progresses, the focus shifts to the inhabitants of the towns—interviews with the residents, shots of schools, public centers, and interiors of homes creep into the narrative. Notably, the echoes of history seem to blur into the peaceful tranquility of everyday life for these inhabitants—almost as if history was buried beneath these very pavements.

In short, Toponimia is a thought-provoking exploration of how humans interact with their geographical space and how our landscapes play a role in the collective memory of our social, political, and cultural past. This movie is an intriguing watch for viewers interested in sociopolitical history, urban planning, and architecture with interests in global and Argentine history in particular. It's a slow and quiet journey—an abstract excavation that nudges the viewer to retrospect, question, and contemplate the very soil they stand on.