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A young girl disappears in a forest in the heart of São Paulo, Brazil.
A group of young people are organizing. One night, they face the police who came to evacuate an African squat. Carmen meets Hussain, a young afghan poet. Crazy in love, they don’t leave each other. But a curse hangs over the city, papers are carrying death, bodies are falling. Panicked at the idea that he could get arrested, Carmen forbids him to go out, and locks herself with him. Gradually, Hussain get the feeling that she is watching him…
From Brazzaville to Barcelona, a journey around the world in search of unique and diverse voices with the purpose of celebrating the collective dimension of life through words, music and the movement of bodies.
During a party, Camille speaks about her body that’s in love and that science passes through, about time breaking down, and looks at the future.
Men and women are dancing feverishly for a long time. The dance of bodies turns into a filmic trance, fleeing turns into running away, with braided motifs that get revived with every race. The men who don’t dance talk, recite, tell their own stories for and with the filmmakers. And be it through dancing or talking, it is by sharing work space and time, by making a film together, as a community, and by lovingly giving in to sharing, that the film operates politically. It even makes a processional samba in the streets of Sao Paulo look like a show of inalienable collective power. Carried away by this power, the film itself then seems to run away, to overrun its own limits. Somewhere between fable and document, improvisation and composition, anger and joy, all frontiers are burning. (Cyril Neyrat - FID 2021)
Life for refugees and migrants stuck at Calais: Filmed amidst the camps, the beaches, the sea and the sky, impressions of the lived experiences of these people wavering between despair and hope.
A growing city, where nearly 7,800 people lived, will be destroyed by 50% in February 2016. How will the 4,000 migrants expelled from the South zone reborn from their ashes in the northern zone. Before the state decided to annihilate the entire territory in October 2016 and to disperse its 11,000 inhabitants, to the four corners of France.
« In the shadows of Low Life, a secret ceremony dedicated to thirteen guardians of humanity’s common treasures, love and resistance, youth and poetry, equality and difference, insurrection and revolution. Saxifrages … These rootless plants’ windblown destiny is a soft perseverance doubled by an imperceptible intransigence, which, in time, imposes on the hardness of stones a patience that can break them. » – Saad Chakali
In the beginning, Elisabeth picked yellow flowers. On the green hill, facing the sea, between a bunker, the glare of the sun, and the radiation from the wars in progress. In these times of confinement we film an hour a day, less than a kilometer away. It's a very old desire to film from home. The flowers, a radioactive yellow, evaporate in the light. And all around, the playful insects vibrate tirelessly. In this landscape under surveillance, there is Paul, an ancient Newfoundlander, struck down by the world to come. Has he left ? Has he disappeared? His dog prowls along the cliffs, between Fécamp and Yport. The sea turns red, we fall into the night.
A partly silent, partly sung film, shot nowadays in the erased footsteps of the Calais Jungle after its destruction. A tribute that doesn’t take a funeral angle, a tribute to the heroism of the displaced populations, driven out of sites at war devastated by the violence of fires. - doclisbona