Fiction
Set inside a brutalist museum after hours, three teenagers attempt a high-risk heist. Rendered in stark black-and-white noir, the film reframes theft not as crime, but as confrontation — a collision between institutional value and personal meaning. What makes something valuable? Scarcity? Protection? Naming? Or the simple act of deciding it matters? As walls protect what is deemed “priceless,” the film explores how value is constructed, who controls it, and how ownership reshapes belonging. In the dark, value becomes unstable. And sometimes what seems small holds everything that was missing.
The intention of LUCID was to explore the proliferation of digital media that has cultivated an era where the lines between reality and fiction are increasingly blurred. Though we turn to social media to connect, it ultimately estranges us from ourselves and others and to reality itself. The purpose of LUCID is to allegorically represent this disconnect through the medium of lucid dreaming in order to expose the disintegration of the authentic self within a hypermediated world. My film would be suited to audiences who have a suspicion that the contours of existence extend beyond the dimensions of an iPhone screen, who are painfully aware that we are, in the words of Postman, “amusing ourselves to death.”
Carmen demands a little more attention from her husband, Ibón, but his work monopolizes her time so that they can barely meet together. Oscar, their son, tries to get his parents to listen to him, but they are always “on their own business”. Furthermore, Óscar has problems at school that he doesn't know how to solve, because he can't wait to tell them at home. He also demands more attention. One day Carmen discovers that Ibón has more reasons, not just work reasons, for seeing them so little. After confirming his suspicions, he decides to take drastic measures. Oscar now becomes the epicenter of his parents, who use him as a bargaining chip between their interests, but continue not to pay attention to the little one's demands. By the time they realize it, it will be too late. Until then, everyone will have done their own thing. Now, there is nothing to do.
On the coast of her native Cantabria, where the sound of the sea permeates everything, lives Elena. She is married to the love of her life: a kind and attentive man, a sailor by profession, who works aboard a fishing boat. They have a daughter, Alba, nine years old, who is their greatest joy and the center of their lives. The boat on which her husband sails has been gone for several days without returning to port, and the lack of news fills Elena with growing anxiety. At last, Elena’s happy world is shattered before her eyes in a single instant. She feels that life has lost its meaning, and grief drags her into despair, leading her to renounce even her deepest beliefs. As she recalls those happy moments, now lost forever, only her love for little Alba anchors her to the present and gives her the strength to overcome her pain and hold on to life once more. Between the harshness of reality and the tenderness of imagination, mother and daughter find a way to move forward, learning to live with loss. In that delicate balance between pain and love, the sea becomes the witness to an intim
During a wake, three men —a Mexican, a Venezuelan, and an Argentine— accidentally become trapped on the rooftop of a funeral home. What begins as an absurd and uncomfortable wait gradually transforms, as night falls, into an intimate confrontation with the dead man who connects them and with everything he left unresolved within them. Separated from the ritual unfolding below, the three men move from courtesy to confession, and from discomfort to a shared truth none of them knew. After Never is an intimate, performance-driven drama about grief, memory, guilt, and the fragile possibility of change.
