Flavia Cordey

In a Parisian public hospital, Claire Simon questions what it means to live in women’s bodies, filming their diversity, singularity and their beauty in all stages throughout life. Unique stories of desires, fears and struggles unfold, including the one of the filmmaker herself.

The LED on my webcam started flashing for no reason. Is it possible that an observer, a hacker, a friend or ghost is currently housed in my webcam? I embark on a series of video-calls to find out what this elusive entity wants with me.

Capucine, her sick mother and Eugénie hit the road to try to escape the radioactive cloud that is heading straight for their little town.

In a squat in Nantes, Mat and her friends organise a self-gynaecology workshop to “look at oneself and know oneself”. A lively and intimate portrait of a young woman, filmed through her personal and collective questioning of the relationship with oneself, love, sex and the links that they all maintain between each other.

My family have begun to forget their Egyptian roots and, on asking my grandmother Malo to recount the first part of her life in Cairo, I am confronted by the memories of an exiled Arabic woman, lost in a troubled sea of memories, soon to be erased by the passage of time. I start a tour to trace her steps and understand who she is, and therefore who we are. An Egypt appears where her past, my imaginings and the present Heliopolis mix together as night falls.

Clemente is an old Sicilian fisherman who goes on working in spite of his late age. His life is disrupted the day he finds a young refugee’s dead body stuck in the fishing nets.

Love is like a chanson: so full of emotion, trust and self-abandonment. And then, when it’s all over, there’s the sudden silence, emptiness, vulnerability.