Smokers Die Slowly Together

Muzi, 22, comes home to Hangzhou for Chinese New Year, where she plays her roles as a daughter, a half-sister, and a girlfriend. Roaming in this city that feels so familiar yet distant, Muzi searches for a place where she belongs.

Xinyuan films in her personal essay film Jet Lag is her trip from Vienna to China. The hazmat suits on the aeroplane and the layers of tape sealing off each room in the quarantine hotel conjure up images of crime scenes or medical thrillers, although once she does gymnastics on the bed, the mood immediately shifts.

She plays an actress. He works as a filmmaker. We are making a film in Xining, Qinghai, China. She says that this is the furthest place that she's ever been from home. As days go by and under the pressure from the production, we start to wander on the border of life and fiction.

Ming unexpectedly becomes pregnant in a dull relationship, and her life seems to have come to a sudden halt. She embarks on a journey to the China-Vietnam border alone, encountering gods and ghosts.

A ghostly image emerges in the dark, weakly lights up its surrounding —a city ruin awaits renewal. Deep in the darkness, a girl murmurs a scattered diary of her lonely soul amid the city life. An intimate archive of fleeting sensations amid China’s rapid urbanization, especially on the Urban-Village, one of the most drastic scenes of Chinese urbanization. It was realized with the collaboration of young urban-villagers in Guangzhou, China.

A film about the transitive love experience and struggles of the youth in this digital era, the age of gender fluidity. Val and Max are in love, but Max is also dating Alix.

The filmmaker is led on a flashlight-illuminated stroll through the mountains—with the green, digital images of a night vision camera capturing flora, fauna, and distant stars.

We grow apart, from whom we thought we would be.