Alberto Dexeus

参加作品

Letter to My Mother for My Son
Assistant Editor
Carla is pregnant and naked, imitating the poses her mother took when she was pregnant with her. Sunlight filters through the windows. You see pictures in Super-8 of mothers and fathers, grandmothers and grandfathers, smiling, sewing, reciting poems. Then, a young girl travels from the Sixties to the Eighties, until today, crossing the thresholds of femininity and history, until the meeting with Carla by the Blue Sea of Catalonia and with Manel, Carla's newborn son.
Everyday Is Like Sunday
Voice over
Thoughts, sometimes just numbers, reach us from offscreen almost like music, like a mantra or a prayer. What we see are circular fragments from familiar spaces: a mirror, a magnifying glass. A day like any other day: without medication, or perhaps better with? A film like the investigation of an uncertainty principle: do we really see better with a magnifying glass? A face scratched out of the family album: the gap is draped with flowers and cut-out pictures of clothes and finally filled again by a drawing.
Everyday Is Like Sunday
Director of Photography
Thoughts, sometimes just numbers, reach us from offscreen almost like music, like a mantra or a prayer. What we see are circular fragments from familiar spaces: a mirror, a magnifying glass. A day like any other day: without medication, or perhaps better with? A film like the investigation of an uncertainty principle: do we really see better with a magnifying glass? A face scratched out of the family album: the gap is draped with flowers and cut-out pictures of clothes and finally filled again by a drawing.
Everyday Is Like Sunday
Editor
Thoughts, sometimes just numbers, reach us from offscreen almost like music, like a mantra or a prayer. What we see are circular fragments from familiar spaces: a mirror, a magnifying glass. A day like any other day: without medication, or perhaps better with? A film like the investigation of an uncertainty principle: do we really see better with a magnifying glass? A face scratched out of the family album: the gap is draped with flowers and cut-out pictures of clothes and finally filled again by a drawing.
Everyday Is Like Sunday
Director
Thoughts, sometimes just numbers, reach us from offscreen almost like music, like a mantra or a prayer. What we see are circular fragments from familiar spaces: a mirror, a magnifying glass. A day like any other day: without medication, or perhaps better with? A film like the investigation of an uncertainty principle: do we really see better with a magnifying glass? A face scratched out of the family album: the gap is draped with flowers and cut-out pictures of clothes and finally filled again by a drawing.
The Perseids
Screenplay
Aragon, Spain. After living through her parents' divorce, Mar arrives in the summer in a mysterious town where she is fascinated by the horrifying stories about the Civil War and its terrible consequences told by members of a group of teenagers who seem to live according to rules that are strange to her.
The Perseids
Director
Aragon, Spain. After living through her parents' divorce, Mar arrives in the summer in a mysterious town where she is fascinated by the horrifying stories about the Civil War and its terrible consequences told by members of a group of teenagers who seem to live according to rules that are strange to her.