Familien Olsen

Timegate: Tales of the Saddle Tramps

While visiting a historic Western town, two women (Amy Lindsay and Kim Yates) are transported back in time to the Old West. After being mistaken for new recruits for the local brothel, the women hook up with some cowpokes. But their erotic escapades end up ruffling some feathers, and when the deputy winds up dead, the posse's hot on their tails for answers. Now, they must get back to their own time before they wind up jailed or worse.

Keane - Live

Keane perform live at the O2 Centre in London.

The Woman from Nowhere

A fifty year old woman, scarred by a life of disillusionment and regret, returns to the place where she lived twenty years before, to rekindle happier memories. She meets a young woman, the daughter of the current owners of the property, who is on the point of abandoning her home – just as she did, all those years ago...

El último tranvía

Alvin and the Chipmunks: Alvin's Christmas Carol

In this story inspired by the timeless classic, A Christmas Carol, Alvin finds himself center stage as a Scroogelike little chipmunk. Ghostly visits from Dave, Theodore and Simon as the spirits of Christmas Past, Present, and Future help him understand the true meaning of the Holiday.

Solar Flare

Maggie Cook has spent her teenage life alone in her room, but with the world set to end in 24 hours, her classmate Hazel Norcross finally brings her out of her shell.

LEWISTON

The movie arose out of our sparetime as teenagers with fresh driver’s licenses and cobbled-together camera gear, wandering around a tired and honestly pretty grim post-industrial mill community, reinforced with after-hours access to the darkroom at the Sun Journal (where Aaron’s dad was the visuals editor), and some half-formed education in the techniques of Robert Frank, Frederick Wiseman, Dogme 95, Italian neorealism, pre-Obama Shepard Fairey, plus whatever culture pushed its way through the creaky pipes of low-bandwidth dial-up internet, or was smuggled up the actual superhighway of I-95 from Boston and eventually New York, or mailed first class via United States Postal Service from a burgeoning Netflix in those classic matte red envelopes, as valuable and rare as cash sent from China. [...] Somehow we negotiated access to a Canon XL1 3-CCD MiniDV camera and shotgun mic from the local public access station, in exchange for taping the high school graduation we didn’t participate in.

Two Sides to Every Story

Two 16mm films are projected in a loop on a thin painted aluminum screen hanging in the middle of a room. We can hear the projectors at each end of the room, which project images on the central screen. We can see the same scene on each side of the screen: a woman, seen from the front and front back depending on the side of the screen, painting it with spray paint. A man then tears up the screen and goes through it, followed by the woman. We can see Michael Snow sitting further away, giving instructions to the woman. We can also see the cameras filming the scene from each side. Visitors in the room can walk around the screen and thus watch the scene from one angle or another. Both films are projected in synchronicity on the two sides of the screen.

Não Sei Qual Cidade se Passa aos Olhos Dele

Mother's Field

In a remote Kyrgyz village, a mother navigates daily life as her family is drawn into the upheaval of World War II. Left behind to tend the land and hold her household together, she clings to hope amid growing uncertainty. As seasons pass, the quiet weight of absence and memory shapes her world. A deeply personal story of endurance, Mother’s Field captures the emotional cost of war from the perspective of those who wait.

Temple of Truth

Temple of Truth is an archive that constantly ambulates amid tangles of decaying worlds, ex-perienced as petrified, deprived, residual traces, preserving in the process of taking along and transforming itself, a magmatic state, a specific, ancestral, sometimes whitish non-space. A liveliness of half-alive bodies , both human and animal, that catch fire in a latent bullfight and which, in becoming persōnae, inhabit sarcophagi which crumble into solid ground like streams of water that suddenly submerge clouds, swinging on the brink of a vertiginous fall of nocturnal glances in the middle of exotic poses and aerial visions.