Maximiliano Cruz

Casa Roshell is a space in Mexico founded by the trans activist Roshell Terranova. A small, intimate room with a stage sets the scene for performances, workshops, and lip-syncs. For its members, Casa Roshell is somewhere where they can assume an alternative gender role and explore their identity.

Luisa, a 25-year-old woman addicted to chiva (heroin), travels to a beach in the coastal State of Veracruz with the idea of quitting the drug once she gets there. Luisa eventually grows ties with the locals and in particular with Salomon, a 65-years-old peasant in whom she thinks to have found the aid she needs to fulfill her goal.

The friendship of Juan and Matita, two kids from different social backgrounds, and their brothers who won't allow this friendship.

Shot with 16mm Bolex cameras, our Teponaztli implies a moving anarchy, crowned anarchy of color, light, forms, rhythms, cadences, chains, superimpositions: silhouettes, contours, textures, intermittences, flashes, sparkles, opacities, darkness, dances, volumes, entrails, pulps, fluids, surfaces, faces and syncope, all of it to dizzying velocities. Here multiple entities, objects, pulses, forms, colors and figures all co-habit and co-exist according to an altered rhythm and order, the percussive rhythm of an audiovisual and cinetic teponaztli. Our Teponaztli implies a singular perceptive transformation.

A young man is madly in love with his mother, until he discovers a horrible truth about her sexual behavior.

Experimental short film that meditates on the illusion of movement in cinema and the relationship between image and sound, establishing a formal analogy between both elements. The film plays to resolve the paradox between the relationship between real time and the manipulation of it, based on the cinematographic technique. manipulation of time, based on the cinematographic technique

Miguel and Johnny know each other since childhood. They are dedicated to skate and have fun. To earn easy money and continue skating, they sell their own blood to a clandestine contact in a hospital. The activity becomes business until a large transaction is not as they imagined.

A man in chains, a young man who dreams of being part of something, to become a militant for an armed group who must wield a cruelty in which he may not believe in. The characters, each voluntary or involuntary part of a mechanism that overcomes them, reveal their greatness or misery in the “minimum” tasks that they perform to survive. From that sometimes morbid poetry of the everyday and the irrefutable truth of the details, we see a country whose social body is sick and injured.

When Gabino's father returns home after a long absence, the two men awkwardly attempt to re-establish a relationship; but Gabino and his mother quickly tire of this man who has become a stranger to them and decide to kick him out, before realizing that he has already left. Gabino eventually tracks his father down and spends time with him in his rundown apartment, trying to figure out if there is any possibility for the two of them to ever truly communicate. Though Greatest Hits continues Pereda's exploration of his perennial themes of absence, masculinity and the difficulty of maintaining a family, it opens up a whole new set of aesthetic questions through a bold formal gambit: halfway through, the entire narrative reboots and starts from scratch with another actor playing one of the key characters, leading to different iterations of events already witnessed.

Puerta a Puerta records the preparation of a shipment in the United States and its attendant unboxing in Venezuela.

In the eyes of a foreigner practically any street of Mexico City’s Centro Histórico holds potential for a film. Life on the street deserves more than just the natural condition of observer anyone could have, it demands an extra attention. In a 100-meter radius, the sociological exuberance of the events going on is simply impossible to ignore. The street is a mise en scène in itself.

The deterioration of a small community in Fogo Island is forcing its inhabitants to leave and resettle. Places once occupied by humans are now becoming part of the tundra landscape. In spite of a condemn future, there are some residents who decide to remain, holding on to their memories and grieving for the past, when life in Fogo was different.