Landscape as one of the possible key elements to analyse the whole movement of modern cinema and some of its present-day radical experiences. Landscape as crossroads of different contemporary arts – and thus as a reminder of the potential avant-garde role that, once and again, can be played by the documentary practice. Landscape because landscape is in itself “look”, “space”, “time”. Landscape as passageway, either between different times or different ways of seeing – the place that undergoes change and the place where our way of seeing changes. Landscape, also, as the ground for different levels of narration. Landscape and labour; landscape and memory, landscape and History. Finally, and precisely against a possible bucolic trend, landscape as the land of impatience, or tension between what we see and what underlies it, between what shows and what hides, order and chaos, reason and insanity.
Between Chile and Vietnam, Joris Ivens , ‘the filmmaker of wars and revolutions’ made For the Mistral, the first of two films around the idea of capturing what can’t be seen: the wind. Directed as a tour de force in cinematography and editing, the film tries to make the wind visible and tangible. For the Mistral starts in black and white, continues in colour and ends in cinemascope, so to show the power of the Mistral wind, that blows in the south of France. The original script was much more elaborate and ambitious, but the contingencies of production made it what Ivens himself called ‘an unfinished sketch’. However, none of its strength is retired, experimentalism being one of its conditions.
A Sardinian shepherd is wrongly suspected of theft and murder. We follow his long flight through impervious and arid landscapes, towards the isolated grazing land of Barbagia, as he loses all the sheep in his flock. One night, in desperation, he enters another shepard’s fold and, holding him at gunpoint, takes away all his sheep: he then becomes an actual outlaw. Beauty springs from ruthless precision – De Seta simply reveals power relations and points to the causes of his rebellion. As Jean Douchet put it, “nothing is a priori a pleasant sight to see. Not the characters nor the sheep, not even the landscapes are destined to please. But, in accordance with Visconti’s idea, De Seta reveals their original greatness with fine and simple images. Under his Virgilian appearance, De Seta invites us to condemn an order of things which allows the degradation of a natural order.”
The 1950s, Italy saw the production of hundreds of documentaries every year. In this context, De Seta’s early short films stand out as innovative and eccentric in their poetic and technical characteristics: their combination of the ‘realism’ of the subject matter and of the sound, and the ‘unrealism’ of colour and cinemascope, was perceived as conflicting and was very unusual compared with traditional Italian documentaries. “The catching of swordfish in the Strait of Messina, the tuna processing station, the sulphur mine, the sacred representation at Easter, the fishing boats in the Sicilian Channel, the Barbagia shepherds, the peasants harvesting and threshing grain, the ‘forgotten people’ of a little village in Calabria, are taken away from historical immediacy, from social phenomenology, from political dialectics, and restored to the long, unforgettable time in which those gestures, those rites and that culture were formed and took on a precise identity.” – Vincenzo Consolo
The 1950s, Italy saw the production of hundreds of documentaries every year. In this context, De Seta’s early short films stand out as innovative and eccentric in their poetic and technical characteristics: their combination of the ‘realism’ of the subject matter and of the sound, and the ‘unrealism’ of colour and cinemascope, was perceived as conflicting and was very unusual compared with traditional Italian documentaries. “The catching of swordfish in the Strait of Messina, the tuna processing station, the sulphur mine, the sacred representation at Easter, the fishing boats in the Sicilian Channel, the Barbagia shepherds, the peasants harvesting and threshing grain, the ‘forgotten people’ of a little village in Calabria, are taken away from historical immediacy, from social phenomenology, from political dialectics, and restored to the long, unforgettable time in which those gestures, those rites and that culture were formed and took on a precise identity.” – Vincenzo Consolo
The 1950s, Italy saw the production of hundreds of documentaries every year. In this context, De Seta’s early short films stand out as innovative and eccentric in their poetic and technical characteristics: their combination of the ‘realism’ of the subject matter and of the sound, and the ‘unrealism’ of colour and cinemascope, was perceived as conflicting and was very unusual compared with traditional Italian documentaries. “The catching of swordfish in the Strait of Messina, the tuna processing station, the sulphur mine, the sacred representation at Easter, the fishing boats in the Sicilian Channel, the Barbagia shepherds, the peasants harvesting and threshing grain, the ‘forgotten people’ of a little village in Calabria, are taken away from historical immediacy, from social phenomenology, from political dialectics, and restored to the long, unforgettable time in which those gestures, those rites and that culture were formed and took on a precise identity.” – Vincenzo Consolo
The 1950s, Italy saw the production of hundreds of documentaries every year. In this context, De Seta’s early short films stand out as innovative and eccentric in their poetic and technical characteristics: their combination of the ‘realism’ of the subject matter and of the sound, and the ‘unrealism’ of colour and cinemascope, was perceived as conflicting and was very unusual compared with traditional Italian documentaries. “The catching of swordfish in the Strait of Messina, the tuna processing station, the sulphur mine, the sacred representation at Easter, the fishing boats in the Sicilian Channel, the Barbagia shepherds, the peasants harvesting and threshing grain, the ‘forgotten people’ of a little village in Calabria, are taken away from historical immediacy, from social phenomenology, from political dialectics, and restored to the long, unforgettable time in which those gestures, those rites and that culture were formed and took on a precise identity.” – Vincenzo Consolo
The 1950s, Italy saw the production of hundreds of documentaries every year. In this context, De Seta’s early short films stand out as innovative and eccentric in their poetic and technical characteristics: their combination of the ‘realism’ of the subject matter and of the sound, and the ‘unrealism’ of colour and cinemascope, was perceived as conflicting and was very unusual compared with traditional Italian documentaries. “The catching of swordfish in the Strait of Messina, the tuna processing station, the sulphur mine, the sacred representation at Easter, the fishing boats in the Sicilian Channel, the Barbagia shepherds, the peasants harvesting and threshing grain, the ‘forgotten people’ of a little village in Calabria, are taken away from historical immediacy, from social phenomenology, from political dialectics, and restored to the long, unforgettable time in which those gestures, those rites and that culture were formed and took on a precise identity.” – Vincenzo Consolo
The 1950s, Italy saw the production of hundreds of documentaries every year. In this context, De Seta’s early short films stand out as innovative and eccentric in their poetic and technical characteristics: their combination of the ‘realism’ of the subject matter and of the sound, and the ‘unrealism’ of colour and cinemascope, was perceived as conflicting and was very unusual compared with traditional Italian documentaries. “The catching of swordfish in the Strait of Messina, the tuna processing station, the sulphur mine, the sacred representation at Easter, the fishing boats in the Sicilian Channel, the Barbagia shepherds, the peasants harvesting and threshing grain, the ‘forgotten people’ of a little village in Calabria, are taken away from historical immediacy, from social phenomenology, from political dialectics, and restored to the long, unforgettable time in which those gestures, those rites and that culture were formed and took on a precise identity.” – Vincenzo Consolo
The 1950s, Italy saw the production of hundreds of documentaries every year. In this context, De Seta’s early short films stand out as innovative and eccentric in their poetic and technical characteristics: their combination of the ‘realism’ of the subject matter and of the sound, and the ‘unrealism’ of colour and cinemascope, was perceived as conflicting and was very unusual compared with traditional Italian documentaries. “The catching of swordfish in the Strait of Messina, the tuna processing station, the sulphur mine, the sacred representation at Easter, the fishing boats in the Sicilian Channel, the Barbagia shepherds, the peasants harvesting and threshing grain, the ‘forgotten people’ of a little village in Calabria, are taken away from historical immediacy, from social phenomenology, from political dialectics, and restored to the long, unforgettable time in which those gestures, those rites and that culture were formed and took on a precise identity.” – Vincenzo Consolo
The 1950s, Italy saw the production of hundreds of documentaries every year. In this context, De Seta’s early short films stand out as innovative and eccentric in their poetic and technical characteristics: their combination of the ‘realism’ of the subject matter and of the sound, and the ‘unrealism’ of colour and cinemascope, was perceived as conflicting and was very unusual compared with traditional Italian documentaries. “The catching of swordfish in the Strait of Messina, the tuna processing station, the sulphur mine, the sacred representation at Easter, the fishing boats in the Sicilian Channel, the Barbagia shepherds, the peasants harvesting and threshing grain, the ‘forgotten people’ of a little village in Calabria, are taken away from historical immediacy, from social phenomenology, from political dialectics, and restored to the long, unforgettable time in which those gestures, those rites and that culture were formed and took on a precise identity.” – Vincenzo Consolo
It was through Portugal that the Persian carpet found its way into Europe, establishing itself as one of the most important cultural traditions in the West, as far as decorative arts are concerned. 500 years later, we have returned to Iran to reveal its original manufacturing gestures and the hypnotic shapes and colours that still retain all their freshness and fascination. The film is structured in four journeys + one, from geometry to nature, from knotting to ‘abrash’ (the natural mode of color variation). In reality, however, this is a film about itself, and perhaps about art in general and its infinite and immemorial landscapes. In the end, we will reveal the mystery of the true ‘flying carpet’, the one through which so many people have ‘flown’, as today one flies through the screen (moving carpet) and its magical powers.
The film is made of photographs projected against a bed sheet and then re-shot. Breeze, mist, drizzle: essentially atmospheric, the effects performed live over the images during the shooting, restore their atmosphere and reverie. The film tells a love story that slides between the sheets of cities under the skies of May. We know that at the bottom of the beds there’s a whurring a pre-historic world.
A boy is looking for open space in a densely populated city to build a flying machine that will carry him away. He leaves his neighborhood to attempt a voyage that will bring him to the city’s end. After days and nights of travel, when he arrives to something which resembles open space, nobody believes him. The film correlates the surreal vision of the short story by J.G. Ballard ‘The Concentration City’ and the actual urban situation of São Paulo.
It is a cosmic film, first because it shows the cycles of nature, but also because the motifs of the micro and the macro resemble each other (the bed sheets and the clouds, for example), and finally because each shot accomplishes a cycle, be it because objects in continuous rotation appear in it (a windmill), be it because the phenomenon shown eventually produces a feeling of rotation and of endless flow-renewal (a torrent, at the same time very agitated and still). There is the idea that, as long as something is looked at with a little attention, one can see the whole of the world’s mystery develop, in the photographic sense. – Emmanuel Burdeau
In the unchanging landscape, the river’s water precedes the passer-by’, that is how Jean-Claude Rousseau describes the film. This ‘view of the other riverbank’ (of a river that flows into the ‘closed valley’ of the homonymous film) consists of a single static shot, where human movement and the rhythms of nature come together without solving the enigma of their destiny.
The attempt to create an image: the vision framed by an open window allows us to catch a glimpse of the boats going by, until their nocturnal disappearance; the closed window takes in the light of the morning sun, penetrating the room; the figure of the filmmaker is doubled in the mirror; a postcard provides an illusion of opening. This film is simultaneously a miniature and a matrix for all of Rousseau’s following work.
Intertwining three previous films – Faibles Amusements, Contretemps, Comme une Ombre Légère – now brought together in a feature film, Rousseau resumes the themes of travel, wait and absence to renew his cinema with the tools of digital video. If the journey was never actually shown in his films, the filmmaker now travels through the two times-movements of a circular itinerary (back and forth), revisiting the places, ideas and forms of resonance, of circle and orbit, where visual and sonic elements find their place of gravitation within the film.
A fragmentary description of the abandoned area of Lisbon’s old fair ground, in the period between its closing and its ultimate demolition. A set of long static shots, punctuated by small movements, depicts some of the precinct’s features (sealed or half-dilapidated façades, partially dismantled attractions), retracing a route within the premises. Intended to force the focus of perception, the film explores the links between temporal experience and the visual and aural grasp of a specific place. – João Nisa
One stares, one stares, and the fog begins to lift, the exquisite image reveals itself. The three patchy trees, the landscape lines, the tension lines, the moving ghost animals, the moving emulsion, all is impressed on consciousness, is consciousness. Still, rigid lines attempt to contain the amorphous elusive moving fog. The nature of lines competes with the nature of fog, but all is harmony, bathed in sumptuous pallor. – Larry Gottheim
To celebrate the centenary of Roberto Rossellini’s birth, RAI 3 and Italian producer Enrico Ghezzi commissioned a few filmmakers, among them Jean-Marie Straub e Danièle Huillet, to imagine ‘a moment of the life or of the death’ of Ingrid Bergman’s character in Europa ’51, after the final shot of the film. The directors’ reading is based on a fait divers: on October 27th 2005, in the suburb Clichy-sous-Bois, three youngsters chased by the police hid in a high-voltage electric transformer. Two of them, Bouna Traore and Zyed Benna, were electrocuted and died. This cinétract consists of two times five pans shot near the electric transformer by their friend and fellow filmmaker Jean-Claude Rousseau, who also edited the film.
In 1977 I shot One Way Boogie Woogie in Milwaukee’s industrial valley. Then 27 years later I decided to make the same film again. I located all 60 prior camera positions and most of my old friends and family. Things had changed with age. A few people had died, some of the buildings were gone. I shot in June with grey skies using a fine grain negative stock, Kodak 7245. I used the same soundtrack from the old film, cutting the new images to it. The resulting film, One Way Boogie Woogie/27 Years Later is now the two films shown together – first the old, then the new. It is a film about memory and ageing. – James Benning
Um filme dedicado a um trabalho artístico que James Benning filmou repetidamente ao longo da sua carreira e que acredita ser um dos mais importantes do século XX: a ‘Spiral Jetty’, um trabalho imenso de land art de Robert Smithson, feito em 1970, no Grande Lago Salgado, no estado de Utah. “Para se ter a experiência da Jetty há que ir muitas vezes. É um barómetro para os ciclos diários e anuais. De manhã à noite, a sua aparência alusiva e em mudança (radical ou subtil) pode ser o resultado de um dado sistema atmosférico ou apenas uma mudança de ângulo do sol. A água pode parecer azul, vermelha, violeta, verde, castanha, prateada ou dourada. O som pode vir de um caça da marinha, de gansos que passam, de tempestades convergentes, de grilos, ou de um silêncio tão calmo que se consegue ouvir o sangue a passar pelas veias dos ouvidos.” – James Benning
This film, made by Robert Smithson with the assistance of Virgina Dwan, is a poetic and process minded film depicting a ‘portrait’ of his renowned earth work – the ‘Spiral Jetty’, as it juts into the shallows off the shore of Utah’s Great Salt Lake. A voice-over by Smithson reveals the evolution of the ‘Spiral Jetty’. Sequences filmed in a natural history museum are integrated into the film featuring prehistoric relics that illustrate themes central to Smithson’s work. The film also includes a section filmed by Nancy Holt, according to an idea Robert Smithson had about shooting ‘earth’s history’.
The 1950s, Italy saw the production of hundreds of documentaries every year. In this context, De Seta’s early short films stand out as innovative and eccentric in their poetic and technical characteristics: their combination of the ‘realism’ of the subject matter and of the sound, and the ‘unrealism’ of colour and cinemascope, was perceived as conflicting and was very unusual compared with traditional Italian documentaries. “The catching of swordfish in the Strait of Messina, the tuna processing station, the sulphur mine, the sacred representation at Easter, the fishing boats in the Sicilian Channel, the Barbagia shepherds, the peasants harvesting and threshing grain, the ‘forgotten people’ of a little village in Calabria, are taken away from historical immediacy, from social phenomenology, from political dialectics, and restored to the long, unforgettable time in which those gestures, those rites and that culture were formed and took on a precise identity.” – Vincenzo Consolo
To fix the present moment: a landscape destroyed by fire. To search for what is left (the colours, the textures, the silences) in the rubble. A willingness to stare at the dead body of the burned tree and realize its place in the earth where it remains. An observation of the passing of time over the burned tree and a perception of its immobility. – Inês Sapeta Dias
The film is both a return to the past of a country and a return to the traces of a film: Pasolini’s documentary Sopralluoghi in Palestina per il Vangelo Secondo Matteo. About forty years later, Ayreen Anastas, a young film director of Palestinian origin, attempts to repeat Pasolini’s trip to Palestine in 1963. Step by step and shot by shot, she turns Pasolini’s script into a roadmap superimposed on Palestine’s current landscape, creating contradictions between the visual and the audible, the expected and the real. On one hand it is the same film – the same pace, the same respect and the same land – but on the other hand it is another, completely different film.
Searching for location sites for the shooting of his film The Gospel According to Saint Matthew, Pier Paolo Pasolini explores the Holy Land and describes its beauty and contradictions through a dialogue with a priest, Don Andrea Carraro. Pasolini confides to him his disappointment of not finding in that barren, hot land the décor he had wished for, that would match the grand events that ocurred two thousand years before. Pasolini later shot his Vangelo in the South of Italy.
The film Night and Fog by Alain Resnais is the ‘palimpsest’ analysed by historian Sylvie Lindeperg, as a ‘place of portable memory’ of the Nazi camps, progressively made up from the transformations of the context in which it is read. With exemplary meticulousness, Sylvie Lindeperg recounts the ‘migrations’ in time and space of the images used or created by Resnais, so as to make a ‘history of the gazes’ concerning the film and the multiple re-appropriations it has been subject to. In a session of live ‘micro- history’, we are shown the process of film making, through cinema’s own gestures and tools: Lindeperg examines framing choices, the production of meaning through editing, the condition of the filmed image and the status of archive footage; she questions the borders between documentary and fiction, between still image and moving image; she makes up/breaks down relations between image, sound and word. WEven a quiet landscape… can lead us into a concentration camp.” Those are the first words we hear in Night and Fog.
Bab Sebta’, meaning ‘Ceuta’s door’ in Arabic, is the name of the passage on the border between Morocco and Ceuta. It is the final barrier migrants converge at: they come from all over the African continent and cross the Sahara desert to get to Europe. The film Bab Sebta goes through four cities to meet the waiting rituals and the voices of those travellers.
The 1950s, Italy saw the production of hundreds of documentaries every year. In this context, De Seta’s early short films stand out as innovative and eccentric in their poetic and technical characteristics: their combination of the ‘realism’ of the subject matter and of the sound, and the ‘unrealism’ of colour and cinemascope, was perceived as conflicting and was very unusual compared with traditional Italian documentaries. “The catching of swordfish in the Strait of Messina, the tuna processing station, the sulphur mine, the sacred representation at Easter, the fishing boats in the Sicilian Channel, the Barbagia shepherds, the peasants harvesting and threshing grain, the ‘forgotten people’ of a little village in Calabria, are taken away from historical immediacy, from social phenomenology, from political dialectics, and restored to the long, unforgettable time in which those gestures, those rites and that culture were formed and took on a precise identity.” – Vincenzo Consolo
In the heart of Portugal, amid the mountains, the month of August is abuzz with people and activity. Emigrants return to their homeland, set off fireworks, fight fires, sing karaoke, hurl themselves from bridges, hunt wild boar, drink beer, make babies. If the director and film crew had gone straight to the point resisting the temptation to join in the festivities, the synopsis would come down to: ‘Our Beloved Month of August follows the affective relationship between a father, his daughter, and her cousin, all musicians in a dance band.’ Thus, love and music. – Miguel Gomes
This film’s origins lie in another. The one that the director René Allio shot in Normandy in 1975 based on a local crime: I, Pierre Rivière, having Slaughtered my mother, my Sister and my brother… I was 24 at the time. René Allio had offered me a position as first assistant director. Shot only few miles from the place where the triple murder had ocurred 140 years earlier, this film owed most of its uniqueness to the fact that almost all characters were played by local country people. Today, I have decided to return to Normandy to seek out the transient actors of the film. Thirty years have passed… – Nicolas Philibert
On June 3rd 1835, in Normandy, Pierre Rivière, a young peasant aged twenty, slaughters his mother, his sister Victoire and his little brother Jules with a billhook. He escapes and wanders for several weeks in the woods before being arrested. Shortly after imprisonment, the murderer – described by most of the witnesses as a boy with strange behaviour, something close of an idiot – begins the writing of a thick memoir, a true autobiography of astonishing beauty in which he describes the motives that led to his action: to free his father from the ‘sorrows and afflictions’ his wife submitted him to, from the very first day of their marriage. Shot with non-professional actors in the main roles – recruited among the peasants of the regions – Allio’s film is a singular work that captures the opacity of this enigma.
Session presented by the Association Os Filhos de Lumière, including the screening of films made by students from Escola Secundária de Serpa; with Teresa Garcia and Pierre-Marie Goulet.
Based on a short story by Maupassant, the story of a bourgeois family – Monsieur Dufour, his wife Juliette and their daughter Henriette – that leaves Paris and sets out for a Summer day in the country. On the banks of the Marne, Monsieur Dufour and his young daughter’s fiancé go fishing, whilst the two women flirt with two boatmen. Fourteen years later, the same family vacations at the same spot and they meet up again, but everything has changed. A synthesis of all that is fundamental in Renoir’s work and a film where cinema takes to a limit its potential to represent nature as a celebration of life.
Born in Porto in 1981. He studied Sound and Image at the Catholic University of Porto.
In 2006 he attended the Varan Ateliers documentary course at the Calouste Gulbenkian Foundation, where he made the film Entre-Tempos.
She was born in Lisbon, 1980. She has a degree in Communication Sciences from Universidade Nova de Lisboa, FCSH, and completed her degree in Cinema and Culture.
She began working in film programming in 2004, at the Filmoteca de Catalunya, Barcelona, and since 2005 she has been a programmer at the Lisbon Municipal Video Library, having been responsible for projects such as the 6th Short Film Festival, the 1st and 2nd editions of PANORAMA (Portuguese Documentary Film Festival), Ler Cinema, Encontros no Écran, Ver fazer.
“Winter Portrait of a Burnt Landscape” is her first film.
Jean Breschand made several short films and documentaries before writing his first fiction feature, La Papesse Jeanne, released in 2017.
French filmmaker born in Paris, 1950. Influenced by Jan Vermeer, Yasujiro Ozu and Robert Bresson. Initially supported by Jean-Marie Straub and Danièle Huillet, his first films were made in Super 8. Contrary to what was usual with this technique, Rousseau’s shots are long and fixed. He kept this form in his filmography, even though he later embraced digital video. His short films predominantly deal with nothing less than cinema itself: space, time and movement.
Born in Figueira da Foz in 1958, he has a degree in Sociology and a PhD in Communication Sciences. He is a Full Professor in the Department of Communication Sciences at the Faculty of Social Sciences and Humanities of Universidade Nova de Lisboa. He has published articles on criticism, history and theory of cinema and the image. He was the author of the chronicle Imagens in Visão magazine. His first feature film, A Estrangeira (1983), was awarded the Georges Sadoul Prize at the Venice Film Festival.
João Nisa was born in Lisbon in 1971. He studied film at the Escola Superior de Teatro e Cinema and a BA and MA in Communication Sciences at the Universidade Nova de Lisboa. João has dedicated himself to researching the relationship between cinema and contemporary art, and has written essays for various national and international publications. For several years he taught subjects related to the history of cinema and video and experimental cinema at the School of Arts and Design (Caldas da Rainha). In 2006 he set up João Nisa Produções to develop his projects. He directed the film Nocturno (2007), which was shown at various festivals and programmes, such as Cinéma du réel (‘Exploring Documentary’ section) or DocLisboa (‘Riscos e Ensaios’). He is currently making a film based on the novel L’Image by Jean de Berg (Catherine Robbe-Grillet).
Keja Ho Kramer (1974, San Francisco) studied fine arts and is the author of several video works and exhibitions.
Miguel Gomes was born in Lisbon in 1972. He studied at the Escola Superior de Teatro e Cinema and worked as a film critic between 1996 and 2000. He made several short films and made his feature film debut with A CARA QUE MERECES (2004). AQUELE QUERIDO MÊS DE AGOSTO (2008) and TABU (2012) confirmed his success and international projection. In 2024 he won the best director award at the Cannes Film Festival for GRAND TOUR.
Born in 1951 and having worked as an assistant director alongside directors such as Alain Tanner and Claude Goretta, he made his debut behind the camera in 1978 “LA VOIX DE SON MAÎTRE”, co-directed with Gérard Mordillat, a documentary in which he interviewed the bosses of the main French industrial groups. After signing a series of works on mountaineering for television, he dedicated the rest of his work to cinema, authoring an oeuvre characterized by the noblest observational tradition of direct cinema and its reinvention with a highly personalized and inventive gaze. Over the last few decades he has portrayed the most varied institutions like few others, from the Louvre museum to a psychiatric hospital, a zoo or a provincial school, the setting for one of his most popular and cherished films: “ÊTRE ET AVOIR”.
Pedro Pinho was born in May 1977. He studied cinema at ESTC in Lisbon and at ENSLL in Paris between 1999 and 2003. He attended film directing and screenwriting courses at the London Film School and the Calouste Gulbenkian Foundation in 2005 and 2006. He made two short films in an academic context, Perto (2004) and No Início (2005). In 2008, she completed Bab Sebta – a documentary co-directed with Frederico Lobo about the waiting times of migrants in the border towns of southern Europe – which was awarded prizes at FID Marseille 2008, Doc Lisboa 2008 and Forumdoc BH 2009. In 2009, he founded the production company Terratreme with Leonor Noivo, Luisa Homem, Tiago Hespanha, João Matos and Susana Nobre, where he has collaborated as producer, screenwriter and director of photography on films such as Linha Vermelha by José Filipe Costa, Lacrau by João Vladimiro and A Fábrica De Nada by Jorge Silva Melo. Since 2010, he has been working on the film As Cidades e as Trocas, co-directed with Luisa Homem, about the economic flows and landscape transformations caused by the tourism industry. In 2013, his first medium-length fiction film, An End of the World, premiered at the Berlin Film Festival and has since been shown at various international festivals, with its premiere scheduled for October 2013.