Max Brun

Carla está embarazada y desnuda, igual que en las fotos donde su madre posa embarazada de la misma Carla. La luz del sol se cuela a través de las ventanas. Vemos ráfagas de Super 8 de abuelos, tíos, padres, bisabuelos; sonriendo, cosiendo, recitando poesía. Entonces, vemos crecer a una joven desde los 60 hasta la actualidad, pasando por la década de los 80, cruzando los umbrales de la feminidad y la historia, hasta que se encuentra con Carla embarazada junto al cielo azul de la costa catalana.

It’s quintessentially late afternoon Californian sun. The eponymous house gently hosts a number of clipped social encounters. Each of these denotes dynamics of power in race, gender and class. While it’s the macaw that seems ostensibly and literally caged, Bravo’s drama of manners suggests that every single one of us may not be quite as uncaged as we assume.

Nora is a striking young girl in new love. We see her dancing around her bedroom, lip-synching, testing outfits, in between sending heart emojis, and more, to the special boy. All dressed up, she takes a short cut through an abandoned building, on the way for her hot date. Kevin pulls up in the background on his scooter. He's Nora's recent ex, jilted and jealous. Kevin grabs Nora's phone, and what ensues is a now universal 21st century story of male-female power, sexuality and shame with a biting, feminist twist.

It’s California, during the Great Depression. A woman is confiding her most intimate thoughts in a church confessional, while the man on the other side listens silently and intently. But this is no ordinary religious ritual seeking salvation. The woman — a second generation Filipino farmhand — is rapt in roleplay reverie, her sensuous words aimed at her white American lover, during a historic period when such interracial relationships were forbidden by state law. The confession box transforms into a romantic time machine, ecstatic and melancholic, traveling into alternate futures. She manifests as multiple, dazzling women, and they can love freely. This is the 21st commission from Miu Miu Women's Tales​ series.

Realizada durante el encierro, "In My Room" nos sumerge en la conmovedora historia de una mujer en el ocaso de su vida, a través de grabaciones de la abuela fallecida del director. Las salas de estar se convierten en escenarios donde se desarrolla la vida. Las ventanas se convierten en portales a la vida de los demás.

It is night in Warsaw. Two very different homes. In one, a father watches sports lying on the sofa, expecting the son to do the same. In another apartment, a wealthy-looking mother sits at the table to dine with her daughter, completely different from her. At the same time, the boy and the girl embark on a nocturnal adventure of transformation, during which they strip off the various stratifications of gender that they have inherited. The streets of the city are transformed into a liberating walkway. When by chance they meet – face to face, body to body – they mirror each other in silence, offering comfort, safety.

“Farah,” a bread seller, walks the streets of a Middle Eastern town, while an American military vehicle, surrounded by soldiers, slowly passes by. A moment’s silence. Then, a devastating explosion. Civilians are bloodied, wounded. The horrors of war. “Farah” looks around aghast and wailing. But nothing here is quite what it seems. In fact, “Farah” is a character played by an aspiring actress called Laila. And this isn’t Iraq, but a replica village erected on the Fort Irwin army base in California, used to train American troops before being sent abroad. Laila believes her acting talents are being wasted away in this arid simulation, where female role-players are limited to mute, background roles. She takes things much more seriously. Laila plots her way out.

Ava enters the Brooklyn loft for the first time. It's empty. Painted fresh, but old. The sunlight enters from the large windows, on the wooden floor, worn and with the signs of the previous inhabitants. Ava sits down. And it's immediately home. Her house. It is here that he will meet a boy and fall in love. It is here that they will drink wine together at a party. It is here that they will scream at each other and decide that it is over. The apartment will become a witness to the personal story of Ava, joy and sadness, hopes and disappointments, that universal space in which we all find ourselves becoming adults.

"We understand this political climate has turned your world upside down," the 1950s TV-ad voice- over tells you. "Underground shelter is your best defense against radioactive fallout." Cue perky music, tap dancing twins, and a ballerina that bakes the perfect croissant. Welcome to your new luxury home - buried 26 feet below. Complete with mini-golf course, dance floor, swimming pool, two jacuzzis, and a thoroughly modern mermaid. "This is reality." That is, until the nuclear siren rings.

Carmen, by Chloë Sevigny, is the 13th commission from Miu Miu Women’s Tales, the short-film series by women who critically celebrate femininity in the 21st century. Carmen has a loose, voyeuristic, improvisational mood that reflects Sevigny’s interest, making a short-film about process, being a woman, celebrity and ego.

An unreliable story, a parallax view wherein the scenarios, characters, costumes, genres, and endings, repeat and morph, refusing the logic of conventional narrative.

Naomi Kawase describes Sakura Ando, the lead character in her film, as "a mysterious creature" who is "like a fairy. SEED is the story of the journey this girl takes from the enchanted nature of Nara to the chaos of Tokyo, and the encounters she has along the way. A boy offers her the gift of an apple, which she in turn gives to a homeless man, who proffers a soft piece of chiffon fabric in return. Moving like a tree that sways in the wind, the girl embodies a spirit that secretly runs through places and living things. The eleventh film commissioned by Miu Miu Women's Tales was directed by the multiple Cannes award-winning Japanese director Naomi Kawase.

“Miss Jasmine! I have a package for you!” The 14-year-old girl with braces takes a break from milking the goat. Her local postman has delivered a surprise. She opens it up. Out floats a magical magenta ball dress ten times her teenage size. “I am curious,” she says, and enters the folds of the dress. From here, Jasmine⎯headstrong, a dreamer, a realist⎯takes us on a modern anti-fairy tale through caves and stalagmites, streets and shop windows, obsessions and everyday empowerment.

The ninth short film of the Miu Miu’s Women’s Tales series reflects Alice Rohrwacher’s attention to the surreal world of ordinariness and exceptions.

Have you ever found it impossible to say something, face to face, to someone you know, someone you love? The words just won’t come out? New messaging service, Somebody, could help.

Soon after Elizabeth receives this text message, her mother isn't the only one lost in sleep. Elizabeth's car has broken down. It's freezing cold, no sign of life nearby. She just has to wait, patiently. The recovery guys will be here soon, Elizabeth. Till then, she warms her young hands on the vents, drifts into a strange slumber, followed by an even more surreal awakening. Icelandic landscapes merge with Elizabeth's memories. Fears are magically transformed into comforting and fantastical fabrics. Father, upstairs, alone.

In “Le Donne della Vucciria”, sixth Miu Miu Women’s Tale, Palestinian female director Hiam Abbass contemplates the transformative power of clothes, music and dance in a charming, evocative study of the women of the Sicilian city of Palermo.

In the translucent LA dusk we discover four women living very different lives. The camera follows each as they wind down their working days, their four stories weaving together as each prepares for their evening.

Short by Roman Polanski shot for Prada.

In this dark tale of an esoteric ritual, a woman enters a shadowy laboratory where three witches attend a bubbling cauldron, surrounded by hanging skeletons of dresses. She is disrobed, led to a bath, laid in the water and her finger pricked to draw blood. The witches circle, chanting in strange tongues. As the smoke clears, we see the woman has made the ultimate sacrifice, transforming herself into the object of her desire.

An enchanting and dramatic short film set in London’s Claridges hotel. As its name suggests, the piece takes us into an ultra-feminine environment where gestures between women are traded in a ritual of opulent beauty.