Through a powerful visual metaphor, Camille Vigny gives a first-person account of the domestic violence she suffered. The images and text interact with remarkable precision to convey the devastating impact of the cataclysm. It's a political gesture, brimming with courage, an icy cry that takes your breath away.
From Belgium, Jialai Wang maintains contact via smartphone and camera with her mother and grandmother in China. When her grandmother’s health deteriorates, Jialai returns to Shanghai, but when she arrives, her grandmother has already died, and she is left alone with her mother. A devout Buddhist, her mother seems to pay more attention to her daily prayers, Maoist past and dog Dongdong than she does to her daughter. She herself had been abandoned as a child by her own mother, when she divorced Jialai’s grandfather and moved to the city.
Over many years, the director’s father filmed his family life almost obsessively. His daughter’s birth, his son’s first steps, and always Valérie, the young mother. An impressive fund of material which their now grown-up daughter Faustine appropriates to tell quite a different story: that of a woman who sees her role as a mother and its demands take away her freedom step by step.
In an abandoned hospital on the outskirts of Brussels, strangers come and go while ghosts linger. Among the shards of glass, a young streamer performs a live sex show for an online subscriber. Under the same dilapidated roof, an old woman lights a fire and drinks her sorrows away in the room where her husband stayed until he died. A chance encounter between these two lonely beings will unleash a flood of memories and virtual data. But real-life connections are scarce, and mutual consolation seems a distant dream. Porcupines are said to gather on cold winter days to share body heat with their fellows, but ultimately injure each other with their quills. How is it that our slightest attempts at intimacy so often see us retreating once more into solitude?
This film is an African “Boyhood” that gives an insight to the political and historical situation of Burundi throughout the last 24 years through the eyes of six street children that now have become adults.
Brussels, La Monnaie Opera House. Three people near the end of their lives meet with choreographers, actors and musicians. They take part in a unique experience which involves music, dance and silence. Their journey becomes a tribute to the fragility of the human condition, between reality and representation, tragedy of the body and freedom of the spirit. Together they question their own relationship with death.
Fabiana, Carlo, Claudio and Vincenzo… I met them in 1982 in Mercatale, their village in Tuscany, near Florence. They were aged between 25 and 45 and were cheerful militants in the Italian Communist Party, that strange party which has made its mark on history and which was both a school and a family for them. I have filmed in Mercatale every two or three years for over 20 years (1982/2004). The fi lm takes the “long view” of their political and personal development against the backdrop of village life. Stories with both human and political interest spanning over a quarter of a century with relevance for present day issues: what has become of the plans to change the world in Berlusconi’s Italy? From a more global perspective: what else can politics do? When the time comes to take stock the paths of their rich and varied personal lives cross once more with all their doubts and allegiances.
Documentary about a man remembering his struggles while floating on a boat down a river.
After losing part of her memory in an accident, Leila, a young French woman of Iraqi origin, reconstructs her story by reconnecting with her family and exploring her roots. Through music and cinema, she brings her exiled father's poems to lite, dis-covers the reality of the Middle East, and embarks on a personal quest to understand her identity and find her voice.
One night, nine children from the same Tunisian village attempt the deadly crossing. Like a poem or a prayer, this film welcomes the words of bereaved mothers and gives dignity to their grief.
At the beginning of winter, a filmmaker retires for six months to a hermit's cabin in the middle of the forest, cut off from the world and its means of communication. Through the words of four women she has filmed previously, all of whom have dedicated their lives to different forms of spirituality, she embarks on a mysterious inner adventure, on the edge of solitude and nature. A journey that invites us to connect with the world in a different way.
Documentary on the atrocities the germans committed at the start of WW I in Dinant.
Laosan, a young family man, spends all his time smoking opium. For his community, lost in the heart of the Laotian jungle, opium farming is the only way to survive. But opium is also the poison that puts men to sleep and kills their desires.
As a letter to her son, the filmmaker testifies her experience as a photographer aboard the Aquarius, a ship that rescued 29,523 people in the Mediterranean between 2016 and 2018.
A computer screen, images from the four corners of the world. We cross borders in one-click while another trip’s story reach us in bits, through text messages, chats, phone conversations, and an immigration office’s questionnaire. It’s the journey of Shahin, a 20-year-old Iranian boy who, fleeing his country alone, lands in Greece, then winds his way to England where he claims asylum.
A café in the north of Brussels. Days are punctuated by the songs that the customers sing at all hours, to amuse themselves, to remember or to pass the time. Those songs transform the place little by little, making the film a strange musical.
What happens when a world that relies on traffic and the logistics that allow it comes to a standstill? What happens when sickness and even death are taken from us?
Everyone calls him Kev, this pale-looking redhead, who a social worker found, as a child, locked in a bedroom where he had only rays of sunshine to play with. Now a teenager, Kevin suffers from a form of autism so severe that the majority of so-called specialised institutions have long refused to take him in. Clémence Hébert followed him with her camera, from one place to another. She, who is gifted with speech and he, who lives without, tamed each other as peers with a lens as the only medium of recognition, which captures what palpitates, appears, withers, and recommences. A discontinued but living link.
One day, the tree is considered mature. In any case, it is exploitable for the industry. So, we mark it and then cut it down. With the chainsaw or the harvester, it depends. And then it becomes biomass, pallets, panels, pellets, crates, paper pulp for printing promotions. But what profit does man get from the pains he takes under the sun?
Unexpected shelter made of prefabs in the heart of a burning city, the supervised drug consumption facility is open every day of the year. Cause some things know neither relief, nor rest, nor death. A place like no other where to come back, again and again, because here, they would make you feel, at last, you’re someone.
