Diana Bustamante

After hearing a loud ‘bang’ at daybreak, a Scottish woman begins experiencing a mysterious sensory syndrome while traversing the jungles of Colombia.

A dramatized account of Colombia's 1985 Palace of Justice siege combines fictional elements with historical footage, exploring themes of belief, turmoil, and lasting national trauma.

Ras is a graffiti artist from the city of Cali who works in construction, he works during the day and paints walls at night. One day he is caught stealing cans of paint from the construction site where he works, for which he is fired. With no money, he will look for Calvin, another popular urban artist. Both will circulate through the streets without a fixed destination, spreading their art to every corner.

After years of absence, Ciro returns home to his mother's bedside. In the Colombian desert of Tatacoa, he meets those he fled and confronts the last guardians of a territory as fragile as it is enchanting.

Marcos, a withdrawn park ranger, sees the fragile balance achieved in his isolation collapse with the arrival of a couple of biologists investigating strange bird deaths. Unfortunately, the desire and envy for normality represented by the couple awaken the monster he has been trying to control. His face, his legs, and his arms don’t belong to him and as the desperation becomes incontrollable, he can only see one way out: mutilation.

Strange images overlap like floating ghosts: a dead body, a singer, an audience. The film shows, paradoxically and theatrically, how death inhabits the León de Greiff Auditorium in Colombia.

Alfonso is an old farmer who has returned home to tend to his son, who is gravely ill. He rediscovers his old house, where the woman who was once his wife still lives, with his daughter-in-law and grandson. The landscape that awaits him resembles a wasteland. Vast sugar cane plantations surround the house, producing perpetual clouds of ash. 17 years after abandoning them, Alfonso tries to fit back in and save his family.

Drifting between moving-image formats and collaging local textures and bygone voices, Oscar Ruiz Navia’s film reflects on loss and mourning as experiences of temporal dislocation.

A Mexican movie director travels the world as a vampire, getting blood from wherever he can at local film festivals.

7 year old Matías returns home from a friend’s birthday party to find his mother, Laura, unconscious on the floor. When she recovers her senses they decide to leave home and rush to a shelter for abused women where they spend 48 hours before Laura decides to rebuild her life somewhere else. Through the eyes of Matías we will discover their escape in a city where everything Matías once knew feels dangerous and foreign until Laura finds a secure place to raise her son.

Salvador is a peasant who one day wakes up as usual to work on his land but instead finds a pile of corpses in the middle of his crops. He runs to notify the authorities but is Sunday and Election Day so the dead ones end up being a nuisance that nobody wants to deal with.

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.

After his wife's death, a vallenato singer from Majagual, Sucre, decides to quit music and return his allegedly cursed accordion to his master. He is joined by Fermín Morales, a teenage boy who admires him and wishes to follow his footsteps. Together, they start a journey throughout several towns in Northern Colombia to Taroa, in La Guajira desert, where the singer's master supposedly lives.

An extraordinary and necessary essay film constructed entirely out of a vast archive of news footage from the ‘80s and ‘90s, OUR MOVIE (NUESTRA PELICULA) is a response to the violent history that imprinted itself on the director in her formative years in Colombia. Images of blood spatters, bullet holes, coffins, and Colombians marching in the streets become an abstract net of quotidian sorrow.

Carlos Buendía is haunted by memories of an alleged homicide that he did not commit 15 years ago. A threatening message and a terrible accident endangers his well-being and that of his family.