This correspondence, or exchange of letters and video diaries between acclaimed filmmakers Jonas Mekas and José Luis Guerin is extremely potent, there's sorcery at play in the mixture of the two. Together they're light and dark. Mekas knows life's joys, and is always a participant in what he films, Guerín is a detached observer, cold, present only as a black mote, reflected in the eye of one of his subjects. Guerín shoots in black and white and strives for formalism, Mekas loves hazard, loves his chaotic hand-held colour camera. Jonas Mekas felt that his images were inferior to those of Guerín, but a picture of his son Sebastian devouring a pickle, followed by Jonas on the deli sausage and wine, and then a cheeky close up of Goethe's Faust; which of them Faust and which Mephistopheles? That one shot set me thinking about the nature of art and the privilege of artists, and could be interpreted in any one of several fruitful ways. 　　Guerín's Camera is brutal, his viewpoint black, on death and distance. He sends Jonas a morbid video, regarding a Slovenian film writer, which is almost a provocation. One beautiful moment, filmed through a gap in his hotel room's curtains shows a young couple frolicking in the sea, for which brief segment he allows music. It's deliberately voyeuristic though, Guerín is distant he identifies with migrant workers he films in Venice. 　　The films, in an aesthetic sense presents clarity versus confusion, reality versus a dreamer's obfuscation. There's an extent to which what we see is a real correspondence, an extent to which they are talking past one another. Guerín intones that dialogue between filmmakers is an impossibility, over images of fish heads on ice in a market. It's one of two visual quotes I suspected are from Pere Potabella (from Pont de Varsovia). 　　The difference in viewpoint I suspect ultimately is that Mekas sees beauty in the fact that life goes on, wonder in impermanence, Guerín is blanched by it.

This correspondence, or exchange of letters and video diaries between acclaimed filmmakers Jonas Mekas and José Luis Guerin is extremely potent, there's sorcery at play in the mixture of the two. Together they're light and dark. Mekas knows life's joys, and is always a participant in what he films, Guerín is a detached observer, cold, present only as a black mote, reflected in the eye of one of his subjects. Guerín shoots in black and white and strives for formalism, Mekas loves hazard, loves his chaotic hand-held colour camera. Jonas Mekas felt that his images were inferior to those of Guerín, but a picture of his son Sebastian devouring a pickle, followed by Jonas on the deli sausage and wine, and then a cheeky close up of Goethe's Faust; which of them Faust and which Mephistopheles? That one shot set me thinking about the nature of art and the privilege of artists, and could be interpreted in any one of several fruitful ways. 　　Guerín's Camera is brutal, his viewpoint black, on death and distance. He sends Jonas a morbid video, regarding a Slovenian film writer, which is almost a provocation. One beautiful moment, filmed through a gap in his hotel room's curtains shows a young couple frolicking in the sea, for which brief segment he allows music. It's deliberately voyeuristic though, Guerín is distant he identifies with migrant workers he films in Venice. 　　The films, in an aesthetic sense presents clarity versus confusion, reality versus a dreamer's obfuscation. There's an extent to which what we see is a real correspondence, an extent to which they are talking past one another. Guerín intones that dialogue between filmmakers is an impossibility, over images of fish heads on ice in a market. It's one of two visual quotes I suspected are from Pere Potabella (from Pont de Varsovia). 　　The difference in viewpoint I suspect ultimately is that Mekas sees beauty in the fact that life goes on, wonder in impermanence, Guerín is blanched by it.

Narcoleptic Finnish naturist as beautiful as Venus is on vacation in Southern France with her husband. She goes for a walk in the field naked and gets lost. A local kid takes her to his village to help her as well as brag to his friends.

1995年，Jonas是个躲在柜中的14岁男孩，他对英俊潇洒的同学Nathan一见钟情，尤其对Nathan桀骜不驯的一面又爱又怕。18年后，三十而立的Jonas已是风流倜傥的熟男，却仍在寻找人生平衡点，因为挥之不去的回忆阴影，他回到睽违已久的家乡，试图在每个记忆角落，寻找早已失去的线索、14岁的自己，以及他曾经爱过的那个男孩…

1995年，Jonas是个躲在柜中的14岁男孩，他对英俊潇洒的同学Nathan一见钟情，尤其对Nathan桀骜不驯的一面又爱又怕。18年后，三十而立的Jonas已是风流倜傥的熟男，却仍在寻找人生平衡点，因为挥之不去的回忆阴影，他回到睽违已久的家乡，试图在每个记忆角落，寻找早已失去的线索、14岁的自己，以及他曾经爱过的那个男孩…

兩位年輕的女導演以影像書信的對話形式討論電影、家庭、母職等。運用深刻的個人反思將日常生活體現於電影中。這些影像片段不僅促使兩人審視自己，也彼此分享自己的一部分。透過鏡頭，同時記錄了時代的變化。

兩位年輕的女導演以影像書信的對話形式討論電影、家庭、母職等。運用深刻的個人反思將日常生活體現於電影中。這些影像片段不僅促使兩人審視自己，也彼此分享自己的一部分。透過鏡頭，同時記錄了時代的變化。

第一部分Lucía的豆瓣地址：http://movie.douban.com/subject/6804361/ 　　Luis (Lucía, Luis y el lobo - Part 2 of 2) 　　by Niles Atallah, Cristobal Leon & Joaquin Cociña 　　Luis is the 2nd short video of the series “Lucía, Luis y el lobo” (”Lucía, Luis and the Wolf”), it is a follow-up to the short video Lucía. The video was shot frame by frame with a digital photo camera. Materials: charcoal, dirt, flowers, found objects and cardboard.

While the show will focus on the band aspect of the trio and their music, it is actually a fictional series where the brothers play a group of government hired undercover spies.

LOUISE-MICHEL是巴黎公社著名女领导人的名字，但本片不是这位“蒙马特尔高地红色处女”的传记片，而是讲述两个无产阶级的故事。露易丝是一个不识字的女工，谁要是在她面前说她文盲，她就不会对这个人客气。她和同事发现老板在一夜之间把工厂里所有的机器都搬走了，只留给他们几百欧元的赔偿。在气愤之余，她提议雇请一名杀手杀掉流氓老板。她找来的杀手就是米歇尔，他是一个极其平庸的保安员，住在废弃的露营车里。这两个既愚蠢又恶毒的人是否能够消灭流氓资本家？