Driven by that peculiar human tendency to witness what we disapprove of, our narrator boards a mule-drawn tram for Cuatitlan in 1907. The destination? A sun-drenched arena and the bloody theater of the bullfight. This is an unflinching look at the “dust and fury” of the ring, from the tragic fate of the horses to the celebrity of the matador Mazzantini. It captures the jarring contrast between a lovely Sunday afternoon and the carnage below, leaving the viewer caught somewhere between horror and a reluctant, terrible fascination.