Light Was a Break

A man from a village in the interior of portugal is back to visit the family that is left. But the true reasons for his return are not clear.

Téo, a lunar teenager, meets the new parish priest of his rural village, who has just arrived from Mozambique. As the two grow closer, they develop a spiritual bond steeped in attraction.

Fontelonga is a village of Trás-os-Montes, in the interior of Portugal. A mirror of exile in the eyes of their own people. A reflexion where memory is the last object of beauty and redemption.

There is a village in the mountain and a house in the village, where Ema repeats gestures and tasks: she takes care of her grandmother, walks, reads, waits. Until one day the cycle breaks: what happened in the mountain house?

A group of skaters take refuge in a shopping mall, making it their playground. As they spend time skating the empty hallways, the stillness creeps in. It's a dead end.

What do you do with the desire that is just awakening? At dance performances, in concerts, during sports, while skating, eyes are searching and bodies are exposed. Each space possesses its own choreography, its own music. Almost without words desire and rejection, hope and disappointment become tangible.

Benjamin is trying to raise money through informal exchanges so that he can organize his son’s overdue birthday. Filimone is visiting his family between war missions, trying to be present at the growth of his three daughters. Eulália is a mother of six and gives birth to a new premature baby. Some days after, she has to come back to her job in a landfill.

And then, a house will appear to be waiting you: as in a slope, this is a leaning story on the memory of places and things, on returns and new beginnings.

Amid dynamics of power, desire, and seduction, Ofélia follows two teenagers who discover their mutual attraction on the threshold between adolescence and adulthood, while simultaneously seeking to define their identity and place within an everchanging society.

Over the dark and barren landscapes of a city somewhere in the Arctic Circle, we hear the story of a man who dreamed he was a woman, an oneiric reverie that allows him to be in two opposite places at the same time. It is a beautiful metaphor, as well as a eulogy, about accepting what seems illogical, instead of looking for meaning, one that finds comfort in the darkness and restlessness that disturbs sleep, turning it into a space for the subconscious to rise

Bernardino Fernandes emigrated to Canada in the sixties. Over two decades he filmed hundreds of Super 8 reels, organizing them methodically and obsessively. The Everlasting Man ends an old process, transforming Bernardino's urge of cinema into a film about the images of his memory.

While spending holidays at his grandparents’ place in the countryside, a boy learns a cruel lesson of mercy.

In a village where time and space run out, a child dwells in the death vortex.

A man wanders around an abandoned hospital. Years after their last encounter, someone whose life he saved seeks him out in his old office, so that together they can piece together a memory of their shared past.

The first recorded testimony of a group of Brazilian Catholic women who, in the 1970s, embraced the emerging movement of Liberation Theology — a force that reshaped the Church in Latin America by aligning faith with social justice and the struggles of the poor under authoritarian regimes. Pressured by the Brazilian dictatorship and in conflict with Church hierarchy, they broke with the institution, took a vow of anonymity, and fled into exile in Rome, escaping aboard cargo ships. Today, the fifteen women who remain from the original group agree, for the first time, to share their story.

Drawing from an archive of letters written in the 1960s, the film reimagines women's clandestine journeys from across the United States to Mexican border towns to access underground abortion care.