The Posthumous Honors to the Distinguished Authors

Den s Petrem Čechem

Footage yarn sliding over trees, fields, buildings, bulldozers, power lines... while a monotonous hum exacerbates the images.

A homage to Andrei Tarkovski made for the Spanish edition of the Chris Marker movie 'Une journée dans la vie d’Andrei Arsenevich'.

In conversations with passionate sociologist and political thinker Jean Pichette, the filmmaker views the forced downtime stemming from the current crisis as an opportunity to rethink our modes of existence and our relationship to others, nature, science, the economy, art, politics—in short, everything that makes us human.

The Emmy-winning story of how an American treasure hunter and a Mexican artist transformed a dying desert village into a home for world-class art.

A videographic snapshot of one of the most bizarre points in human history.

Since Rosa was little, people used to say around town that her grandfather was a black dog. The legend, belonging to the Valley of Oaxaca, spoke of a man who had the ability to turn into a black dog and roam the streets at night. Through images of the town, interviews with the brothers and animated interventions, the documentary tells the story of the myth and its importance in the collective memory.

Animated training film depicting the fundamentals of electricity and how electrical signals can be used to keep an airplane on correct course and altitude through an autopilot.

Short discussion between two friends about a strange man they used to know.

A short film about a small town where the past and the present are difficult to tell apart.

Short combining fiction and documentary.

Produced by the Highway Safety Foundation in 1964, this shocking film deals with a subject quite taboo for its time. The short serves as a dramatized warning, ending with graphic case studies.

A fictional documentary that portrays the city of Dakar, Senegal, as we hear the conversation between a Senegalese man (the director, Djibril Diop Mambéty) and a French woman, Inge Hirschnitz. As we travel through the city in a picturesque horse drawn wagon, we chaotically rush into this and that popular neighborhood of the capital, discovering contrast after contrast: A small African community waiting at the Church's door, Muslims praying on the sidewalk, the Rococo architecture of the Government buildings, the modest stores of the craftsmen near the main market.

A batch of mushy sourdough. Two radioactive lizards. Three cans of Campbell’s tomato soup. When COVID-19 lockdowns began in 2020, people around the world began reporting more vivid dreams.

A series of ten shots, three minutes in length, of various locales in Munich.

The documentary shows the world of the surrealist Canadian artist Alan Glass, his work, his home, his friends, his boxes, all his universe is presented through the point of view of art critics, artists and friends.

Images, voices, and interrupted silences that evoke the intangible losses caused by COVID-19.

An exploration —manipulated and staged— of life in Las Hurdes, in the province of Cáceres, in Extremadura, Spain, as it was in 1932. Insalubrity, misery and lack of opportunities provoke the emigration of young people and the solitude of those who remain in the desolation of one of the poorest and least developed Spanish regions at that time. (Silent short, voiced in 1937 and 1996.)

Africa, a trans woman dedicated to musical representation and comic entertainment on Facebook exhibits her daily life through live broadcasts, having success and a large influx of viewers. This while she is getting ready for her special program in honor of her best friend Vicenta de Loris, since a year has passed since her life was taken from her.

Likely in June 1897, a group of people are standing along the platform of a railway station in La Ciotat, waiting for a train. One is seen coming, at some distance, and eventually stops at the platform. Doors of the railway-cars open and attendants help passengers off and on. Popular legend has it that, when this film was shown, the first-night audience fled the café in terror, fearing being run over by the "approaching" train. This legend has since been identified as promotional embellishment, though there is evidence to suggest that people were astounded at the capabilities of the Lumières' cinématographe.