In Vanda’s Room

  • April 6, 2017 / 16:00
  • April 9, 2017 / 11:00

Director: Pedro Costa
Portugal, Germany, Switzerland, 2000, 170’, color
Portuguese with Turkish and English subtitles

Pedro Costa’s film is a confluence of documentary and fiction. His protagonist, Vanda, is a non-professional actor who performs in scenes set in her own neighbourhood in the Lisbon slums. Vanda is either selling vegetables in the street or taking drugs in the one-room hovel that she shares with her sister, as the neighbourhood is literally torn down around them by the local authorities. In this framing, Costa offers a rich vision of place and of human defiance in the face of urban planning from above.

Ta’ang

Ta’ang

In Vanda’s Room

In Vanda’s Room

Neighboring Sounds

Neighboring Sounds

The White Ribbon

The White Ribbon

40 Days of Silence

40 Days of Silence

The Apple

The Apple

Youkali

Youkali

Toponymy

Toponymy

What Now? Remind Me

What Now? Remind Me

Dogville

Dogville

a good neighbor Shorts

a good neighbor Shorts

Artist Nicola Lorini in Conversation

Artist Nicola Lorini in Conversation

Inspired by its Anatolian Weights and Measures Collection, Pera Museum presents a contemporary video installation titled For All the Time, for All the Sad Stones at the gallery that hosts the Collection. The installation by the artist Nicola Lorini takes its starting point from recent events, in particular the calculation of the hypothetical mass of the Internet and the weight lost by the model of the kilogram and its consequent redefinition, and traces a non-linear voyage through the Collection.

Girl in a Blue Dress

Girl in a Blue Dress

This life-size portrait of a girl is a fine example of the British art of portrait painting in the early 18th century. The child is shown posing on a terrace, which is enclosed at the right foreground by the plinth of a pillar; the background is mainly filled with trees and shrubs. 

Midnight Stories: The Soul <br> Aşkın Güngör

Midnight Stories: The Soul
Aşkın Güngör

The wind blows, rubbing against my legs made of layers of metal and wires, swaying the leaves of grass that have shot up from the cracks in the tarmac, and going off to the windows that look like the eyes of dead children in the wrecked buildings that seem to be everywhere as far as the eye can see.