Memory Lane

Director: Mikhaël Hers
Cast: Thibault Vinçon, Dounia Sichov, Lolita Chammah
France, 98’, 2010, color
French with Turkish subtitles

Late August, early September, the twenty something characters of Mikhaël Hers's Memory Lane come together in the Parisian suburb where they grew up. Some still live there, while others, like migrating birds, are drawn back by the inviting weather—or, like any good son or daughter, the whims and pains that afflict their parents. An ode to looking out windows, at least for part of its running time, the film builds a mood of nostalgia from its scarcely florid fixation on atmosphere: the blustery wind, chirping insects, a gorgeous hilltop view of distant Paris.

Summer of Giacomo

Summer of Giacomo

Nous princesses de cleves

Nous princesses de cleves

Belle Épine

Belle Épine

Un poison violent

Un poison violent

Memory Lane

Memory Lane

La vie au ranch

La vie au ranch

Jean-Michel Basquiat Look At Me!

Jean-Michel Basquiat Look At Me!

The exhibition “Look At Me! Portraits and Other Fictions from the ”la Caixa” Contemporary Art Collection” examined portraiture, one of the oldest artistic genres, through a significant number of works of our times. Paintings, photographs, sculptures and videos shaped a labyrinth of gazes that invite spectators to reflect themselves in the social mirror of portraits.

Baby King

Baby King

1638, the year Louis XIV was born –his second name, Dieudonné, alluding to his God-given status– saw the diffusion of a cult of maternity encouraged by the very devout Anne of Austria, in thanks for the miracle by which she had given birth to an heir to the French throne. Simon François de Tours (1606-1671) painted the Queen in the guise of the Virgin Mary, and the young Louis XIV as the infant Jesus, in the allegorical portrait now in the Bishop’s Palace at Sens.

Midnight Stories: The Red Button <br> Funda Özlem Şeran

Midnight Stories: The Red Button
Funda Özlem Şeran

It was a quiet night in the dessert. Even the mice weren’t around. A few LEDs blinked in the dark, and the sound of a fan filled the infinite void. The conversation cutting the silence seemed to go nowhere.