Mary Jiménez Freeman-Morris

Keren is a performer, filmmaker, activist. At 20, she left Israel to grow as an artist and person. After eight years in Europe, she feels the need to return to the contradictions she left behind. She joins the rallies against Netanyahu, volunteers with Palestinian families, finds love, keeps filming. The October 7 attack occurs. The war and genocide begin. The fracture keeps deepening.

In the heart of the Peruvian Amazon, Saor, a young androgynous Indian, carries a coffin. He is taking Valentina, his lover, back to her native village to bury her. When Valentina left this village years ago, before becoming a transgender singer in a faraway city, people here knew her as Pol. Valentina's past and death remain an enigma. Yet bit by bit, through his encounters with the people of the village, Saor begins to perceive what connected them to Pol. Sensitive to the world around him, Saor, like a Shaman, enters their memories. Saor starts to understand that, like all homosexuals persecuted by Shining Path terrorists, Pol lived in terror. In the village cemetery, between rage and bitterness, Saor attends the burial of Valentina's body. A ceremony that is both a burial and an exhumation.

From the Mountain We See the Mountain blends haunting imagery and whispered myth to explore a land marked by ecological trauma and the colonial experience. As animals and humans cautiously re-emerge after a forest fire, rumours swirl: was it an accident, an act of nature, or something more insidious? Through eerie nighttime scenes, surreal lighting and interviews lit by the flicker of imagined flames, the film evokes a sense of environmental dystopia and quiet resistance. Balancing elements of myth, sci-fi and thriller, the film conjures a land reckoning with monsters it did not create.

Mary returns to Perú and her family with her previous film as a gift to her father, Lucho Jimenez, an eighty year old man with a lot of vitality. She proposes a caravan trip into his past, taking him to places where they spent their lives together, asking questions he never asked about his history, his family's history and his mother's death. During the filming of the movie, Mary learns that her father has a new engagement to a woman much younger than him and that he is about to adopt his new wife's child who was given to another family.

The Amazon flows lazily through the goldmine-gashed landscape of northern Peru. Using real eyewitness accounts, directors Bénédicte Liénard and Mary Jiménez tell the story of a young woman who winds up in the clutches of forced prostitution when her initially hopeful attempt to escape the constrictions of her village goes wrong. Step by step, she is robbed of her moral and physical integrity. The film reconstitutes a space of dignity and returns voice and identity to a fate formally made nameless. With its powerful imagery, the girl’s traumatic odyssey embodies the destruction of life in a capitalist world in connection with horrific natural devastation.

A woman who only has a couple of months left to live decides to go on a final journey, crossing several countries.

A handful of migrants without papers decide to start a hunger strike. Day by day, overcoming the violence that they inflict upon themselves, they discover the greatness of their true cause. From this realisation they learn to affirm their common humanity.

The telephone was invented to connect people on a long distance. Today the telephone is mostly used to connect people who are already close. Our cell phones scan the direct environment to connect wireless. We call home when we’re nearly there. We have apps that show us where we are and apps that show us where our friends are. Distance is no longer needed. On the contrary: the closer we get, the smarter the phone. A telephone is no longer only used to call. It is, among many other things, a recording device for sound and image. The most iconic image of our times comes from the cell phone: the selfie. To make a selfie, you need a distance: arm length. Closer than that, your face doesn’t fit the screen, the image gets blurred, your self becomes unrecognizable. In her latest film, Mary Jimenez touches the limits of that distance.

Florence is found dead and mutilated. When Nathalie hears about this in the bar where she plays piano she becomes interested. She tries to get in touch with the people who knew Florence closely. Eventually she gets them to talk about Florence's destructiveness. About her deviant pleasure in hurting and injuring herself.

The filmmaker goes back to her childhood, to the roots of the tragedy, to her desperate efforts to be accepted by her mother, to her permanent feeling of failure. Du verbe aimer A remarkable autobiographical account, constructed like a very inventively written essay. (Belgian Cinematek)

Unable to possess Ivy in reality, Adrian organizes himself so as to know everything about her, to possess her story. Like the viewer, Adrian will be an involuntary detective, witness to a passion.

On the banks of the Ucayali river, in the Peruvian rainforest, three generations of the same family struggle to survive through their handmade production of coal. After an accident that burned her feet, the grandmother leaves the family, with the hope of dying somewhere else, far away from the coal. Left alone with her juvenile son, Nancy keeps on struggling. Will she be able to hold her family together?

In a hospice, Anne tries to organize her own death according to her friends. It is they, in fact, who will feel her absence. According to Anne, the last journey, which we will all make one day, can become a work of art, like a painting or a film. An awareness of death, made with a ductile language, rich in visual nuances and with a softness that seems like a caress.

The last few months in the life of María Elena Moyano, who was killed at the age of 33 by the Peruvian revolutionary movement Sendero Luminoso.

One night, nine children from the same Tunisian village attempt the deadly crossing. Like a poem or a prayer, this film welcomes the words of bereaved mothers and gives dignity to their grief.

Brussels, Béguinage church. Migrants organize a hunger strike to obtain papers. A man dies. Tunisia, Libya. A border camp of Choucha refugees tell the horror of crossing the Sahara to the north. Liège. In a refugee center, a man narrates his Mediterranean crossing in a chamber of air. Three moments of a battle for survival.