Hi! Production

In 1955 in Italy, race car driver Jed Cavalcanti suffers a mishap during the Molte Miglia rally and finds himself in a small town with a few familial surprises.

Carla is pregnant and naked, imitating the poses her mother took when she was pregnant with her. Sunlight filters through the windows. You see pictures in Super-8 of mothers and fathers, grandmothers and grandfathers, smiling, sewing, reciting poems. Then, a young girl travels from the Sixties to the Eighties, until today, crossing the thresholds of femininity and history, until the meeting with Carla by the Blue Sea of Catalonia and with Manel, Carla's newborn son.

“Farah,” a bread seller, walks the streets of a Middle Eastern town, while an American military vehicle, surrounded by soldiers, slowly passes by. A moment’s silence. Then, a devastating explosion. Civilians are bloodied, wounded. The horrors of war. “Farah” looks around aghast and wailing. But nothing here is quite what it seems. In fact, “Farah” is a character played by an aspiring actress called Laila. And this isn’t Iraq, but a replica village erected on the Fort Irwin army base in California, used to train American troops before being sent abroad. Laila believes her acting talents are being wasted away in this arid simulation, where female role-players are limited to mute, background roles. She takes things much more seriously. Laila plots her way out.

On the day of an inauguration to head the family business Stane confronts marriage, love and patriarchy.

Have you ever found it impossible to say something, face to face, to someone you know, someone you love? The words just won’t come out? New messaging service, Somebody, could help.

Short by Roman Polanski shot for Prada.

An enchanting and dramatic short film set in London’s Claridges hotel. As its name suggests, the piece takes us into an ultra-feminine environment where gestures between women are traded in a ritual of opulent beauty.

A surreal, futuristic silent dreamscape with multiple actors replaying scenes in shifting combinations.

Made during confinement, "In My Room" plunges us into the poignant story of a woman at the twilight of her life, through recordings of the director's deceased grandmother. Living rooms become stages where life is performed. Windows become portals to the lives of others.

A series of sleek 35mm vignettes of contemporary Berlin juxtaposed against readings from the ancient Gnostic poem "The Thunder, Perfect Mind," which explores the boundlessness of the female psyche.

It’s quintessentially late afternoon Californian sun. The eponymous house gently hosts a number of clipped social encounters. Each of these denotes dynamics of power in race, gender and class. While it’s the macaw that seems ostensibly and literally caged, Bravo’s drama of manners suggests that every single one of us may not be quite as uncaged as we assume.

It is night in Warsaw. Two very different homes. In one, a father watches sports lying on the sofa, expecting the son to do the same. In another apartment, a wealthy-looking mother sits at the table to dine with her daughter, completely different from her. At the same time, the boy and the girl embark on a nocturnal adventure of transformation, during which they strip off the various stratifications of gender that they have inherited. The streets of the city are transformed into a liberating walkway. When by chance they meet – face to face, body to body – they mirror each other in silence, offering comfort, safety.

Nothing went as planned: what seemed to be an original idea (taking an international fashion event to a small town in the Argentine Pampas) ended up as a mysterious affair, with a mannequin who seems to have vanished, and who insists on leaving small clues scattered across the immense plains. But nothing seems to be too strange for Commissioner Sirota and her particular method which, this time, includes a clairvoyant, a legendary detective arriving from Santa Rosa and some picturesque “peritas” who choose to work at night, swinging to the rhythm of Ska. In the middle, a disturbing question: Is it a police case they are dealing with, or is someone taking them (the police, the whole town, the Italians – all of us, perhaps) for a fool?

Nora is a striking young girl in new love. We see her dancing around her bedroom, lip-synching, testing outfits, in between sending heart emojis, and more, to the special boy. All dressed up, she takes a short cut through an abandoned building, on the way for her hot date. Kevin pulls up in the background on his scooter. He's Nora's recent ex, jilted and jealous. Kevin grabs Nora's phone, and what ensues is a now universal 21st century story of male-female power, sexuality and shame with a biting, feminist twist.

It’s California, during the Great Depression. A woman is confiding her most intimate thoughts in a church confessional, while the man on the other side listens silently and intently. But this is no ordinary religious ritual seeking salvation. The woman — a second generation Filipino farmhand — is rapt in roleplay reverie, her sensuous words aimed at her white American lover, during a historic period when such interracial relationships were forbidden by state law. The confession box transforms into a romantic time machine, ecstatic and melancholic, traveling into alternate futures. She manifests as multiple, dazzling women, and they can love freely. This is the 21st commission from Miu Miu Women's Tales​ series.

The ninth short film of the Miu Miu’s Women’s Tales series reflects Alice Rohrwacher’s attention to the surreal world of ordinariness and exceptions.

In the translucent LA dusk we discover four women living very different lives. The camera follows each as they wind down their working days, their four stories weaving together as each prepares for their evening.

"We understand this political climate has turned your world upside down," the 1950s TV-ad voice- over tells you. "Underground shelter is your best defense against radioactive fallout." Cue perky music, tap dancing twins, and a ballerina that bakes the perfect croissant. Welcome to your new luxury home - buried 26 feet below. Complete with mini-golf course, dance floor, swimming pool, two jacuzzis, and a thoroughly modern mermaid. "This is reality." That is, until the nuclear siren rings.

In this dark tale of an esoteric ritual, a woman enters a shadowy laboratory where three witches attend a bubbling cauldron, surrounded by hanging skeletons of dresses. She is disrobed, led to a bath, laid in the water and her finger pricked to draw blood. The witches circle, chanting in strange tongues. As the smoke clears, we see the woman has made the ultimate sacrifice, transforming herself into the object of her desire.

“Miss Jasmine! I have a package for you!” The 14-year-old girl with braces takes a break from milking the goat. Her local postman has delivered a surprise. She opens it up. Out floats a magical magenta ball dress ten times her teenage size. “I am curious,” she says, and enters the folds of the dress. From here, Jasmine⎯headstrong, a dreamer, a realist⎯takes us on a modern anti-fairy tale through caves and stalagmites, streets and shop windows, obsessions and everyday empowerment.