Gestures of love reach further than any demonstration of hate in Mast-del, an experimental poem about forbidden desires, both inside and outside post-revolution Iranian cinema.
Awarded the Principi Award at Lago Film Fest, Simisolaoluwa Akande’s film is an ode to queer people from the Global South.
Photos from a family album reveal a city that perhaps used to exist. Sara Rajaei anchors these images not fully in reality but instead extracts the poetry from them.
A constant bombardment of stimuli, Stephen Lopez’s dystopian talking fish bromance is all the more interesting for its political undercurrents.
More than a photograph of an event, Isabel Medeiros’ Enlighten works as an evocation. It embraces the overwhelming fact that transformation and degradation are inescapable natural processes.
A visual history of protest and grief, and a chronicle of the public square as an immutable witness to a cycle of revolt.
The ghosts of the past come face to face with the present and rural life is celebrated in Fermín Sales’ found footage documentary.
Using archive materials, Chasing the Sun: El Shatt attempts to reconstruct a fragmented memory and touches on historical facts about El Shatt, the largest refugee camp in the Sinai desert in Egypt during WWII.
Leonardo Pirondi questions human perception and the possibilities of expanding our gaze beyond the realm of the physical, objective world.
Douwe Dijkstra’s films are always simultaneously making-ofs, as he lifts the curtain on movie magic that employs green screen.
Carlos Gómez Salamanca tells an intensely personal drama, a complete life trajectory, reflecting on a turbulent societal condition.
While Handbook can be ruthless, Pavel Mozhar shows his finely-tuned sense for mutual respect even when the film is showing violently charged truths.
Haig Aivazian's most daring leap into the world of film and a cogent attempt to tie together his interests through the form of found footage.
Instead of offering anything as a straight factual counterpoint, the musical performances in One Hundred Steps themselves demand reconsideration.
Two Falangists have come to disturb the domestic evening rituals of Paz and her family. Pedro Peralta’s talent celebrates the dignity of his fearless protagonist.
Jorge Jácome presents time in an associative series of hypnotic rêveries—an ode to the past so bittersweet that we have to be repelled from it at one point.
