For decades, Le Tango, a legendary LGBTQ+ dance hall in Paris’s Marais district, welcomed everyone who loved to dance, regardless of gender or orientation. When the building was put up for sale in 2020, its music stopped, threatening to erase a vital community refuge. This documentary traces both the vibrant history and the fierce fight to save this iconic space. Through personal stories from regulars and activists—Grégoire, Giovanna, Christian, Livia, and others—the film revisits nights of drag balls, Dalida tributes, and joyous Madisons, revealing how Le Tango became a symbol of freedom and belonging. As filmmaker Antoine Vergez follows Hervé and the Tango 3.0 collective’s three-year struggle to reopen the club, the film becomes both a love letter to queer nightlife and a chronicle of collective resistance to cultural disappearance.
Guynel and Diovany are two young queer men with radically different personalities but from the same island, Martinique. After three years away, Guynel returns to his homeland to reconnect with his roots, his loved ones, and to come out to his father. Diovany, meanwhile, is about to finish his studies and is preparing to compete in one of Martinique’s first “Balls.” It marks the beginning of a dream that will likely one day lead him to the Parisian drag scene. Two intertwined destinies that, through their search for identity, tell the story of queer youth in Martinique and their passage into adulthood.
In Cuba, the nights are very dark indeed when there’s yet another power outage—but as much as possible, life goes on. People find their way around in the pitch dark, cyclists loom out of the blackness, children hang out on the streets by the light of flashlights. At the same time, the disruption appears to create intimacy: a priest takes the opportunity to open the Bible by candlelight and reads about the creation of light and darkness, an aged blind singer plays the guitar for his wife in their bedroom, a boy and his teacher play endless games of chess in the half-light, a fisherman heads calmly into the water with a lantern. Headlights from passing cars flash over houses shrouded in darkness, while the people inside sing and talk under the glow of portable lights.
Inevitable as it seemed, the premature death of Russia’s main opposition leader Alexei Navalny on 16 February 2024 still came as a shock. Immediately afterwards, his supporters went to the monument that President Putin himself unveiled in 2017 for the victims of Stalin’s political oppression. The large crowds laid flowers, which were instantly removed by police. Over time, the commemorations continued and merged with opposition to the invasion of Ukraine. Arrests followed, and peaceful protest has been brutally suppressed. Among the demonstrators is Alyona, a young woman with blonde curls and a pink coat. She refuses to be silenced by police batons and is taken away. Facing absurd charges, she must undergo a trial and risk an excessively harsh sentence. Her terrified mother begs her to passively endure the political repression, and avoid getting into further trouble.
Abstract images and written text are the two components of this testimony of domestic violence, physical and psychological, that shaped the narrator’s childhood. It is told by a woman who recalls diffuse memories of a decade of abuse endured by her and her sisters, and their escape from it. The text, which appears on screen sentence by sentence, does not tell the entire story. These are fragments, snippets, shards of a story.
Off the coast of Manquemapu, Chile, buried beneath the indifferent waves, lies the wreck of the Janequeo. The ship capsized in 1965, and 51 people lost their lives. While the sea has swallowed the wreck, on land the memory of this disaster lives on—in the people and in the landscape.
Mohana is the president of the first trade union for women auto rickshaw drivers in the southeast Indian state of Tamil Nadu. As well as maneuvering her own auto through the busy streets of Chennai, she has to navigate a sexist and patriarchal system to secure equal opportunities for women drivers. She faces constant resistance—with conflicts and humiliations every day.
Marc Isaacs makes a deal with The Synthetic Sincerity Lab, an AI research project affiliated with the University of Southern England. There, researchers are investigating the possibility of teaching AI characters authenticity, using characters from Isaacs’ documentaries to do so. In return, they allow Isaacs to film the process.
It's 2014 and tech billionaire Elon Musk unveils his plans for a self-driving car in front of an enthusiastic audience. What consumers don't know is that Tesla's "autopilot" function is far from road-ready, and new owners are being used to improve the software by providing their data. A fatal accident in Florida triggers a protracted lawsuit to hold Tesla accountable. And it's not the only incident. Shocking footage from dashcams and security cameras shows the ruthlessness of Tesla cars suddenly braking or accelerating—and the crashes that follow. Then, an employee leaks thousands of documents containing complaints from users.
"Kartli" refers both to Georgia’s medieval kingdom and a Tbilisi sanatorium sheltering refugees from the 1990s war in Abkhazia, meant as temporary but lasting 30 years. The crumbling building became a recreated “country”, with a farm, gardens, terraces and rooms where old VHS tapes revive memories of a lost paradise. Through Tamuna, Irma, and others, the film explores exile, trauma, and shared resilience, showing that nothing stays the same inside Kartli.
Sasha is a Ukrainian sculptor living in Paris who is haunted by absence and the war. Inspired by the death of her grandmother, she creates a sculpture and travels home to honour her memory. Margaux, a Belgian friend, accompanies her, carrying an old Bolex camera. Throughout the journey, dreams and reality collide as Sasha shares diary pages revealing her innermost feelings.
When the Israeli army invades the Gaza Strip in 2023, Rania is eight months pregnant. She gives birth to triplets just as her hometown in northern Gaza is bombed. One girl dies at birth, while the other two babies, Jowan and her brother Hamoud, are so weak that they have to be placed in an incubator. When the hospital is evacuated, the twins are moved to southern Gaza, where Rania’s sister Nisreen takes over their care. A travel ban prevents the babies from returning to their mother.
Daughter of Nectar, a gracefully carved marble nude from 1921 by Huang Tu-shui, Taiwan's inaugural modern sculptor, encapsulates a complex century of Taiwanese history, spanning from Japanese colonisation to Chiang Kai-shek's authoritarian rule and the White Terror era. This sculpture, both delicate and resilient, stands as a silent sentinel, mirroring the enduring struggles, suppressed voices, and profound cultural transformations of its homeland.
A woman walks over jagged, weather-beaten rocks by the sea. She is barefoot, wearing a simple white dress. The wind blows unchecked, her face hidden beneath the brim of a floppy hat. She walks and walks, resolute. Sometimes she carries a large jute bag. What is happening here?
Jeff Hood, a spiritual advisor to death row inmates, travels to Oklahoma in September 2024 to petition against the forthcoming execution of Emmanuel Littlejohn and to guide him to his death, if the state chooses to kill him.