Production Design
Michalis has barely 24 hours to redefine his life and make up for his close ones. That same night he meets a girl. He only wishes that the morning never comes.
Production Design
Olga, a domestic worker originally from Albania, finds herself in a house she works in downtown Athens, at the right time. Or at the wrong one?
Production Design
An umbrella protects from the rain, but also gets people together.
Assistant Costume Designer
В доме на окраине города живут мать, отец и трое детей. Дом окружён высоким забором, за который дети никогда не выходили. Они растут, развлекаются, учатся и играют так, как считают нужным их родители, не испытывая никакого влияния со стороны. Они верят, что самолёты, пролетающие над ними, игрушечные, а «зомби» – это название желтого цветочка.
Войти в дом из внешнего мира может только Кристина. В компании главы семейства она работает охранником. Её приглашают для того, чтобы сын с её помощью удовлетворял свои сексуальные потребности. Взрослые дети знают главный закон семьи: «нельзя покинуть дом, до тех пор, пока у тебя не выпадет правый клык».
Costume Design
Constantina Voulgaris’s first feature film is a delightful anomaly in contemporary cinema, sort of like a Cat Power song. Raw, earnest, melancholy, awkward in parts, razor sharp in others, it's lyrical, yet with an undercutting touch of offbeat humor. And more than anything it's unapologetically a girl's bedroom song, an utterly sincere home movie. Made with the ever-generous currency of a cast and crew of friends, and the ample downtime that Greek summer-in-the-city affords, when everybody else is sunning and hooking up out in the islands, it's a film about two exiles -- in Athens, in summer, in love. A sentimental dance between a girl and a boy who could be stuck in downtown any-ville, yearning to be with each other but too cool to dare, too chicken to admit it, too clumsy not to step on each other's Doc Martens, and too damn sentimental not to surrender, in the end, to that old-fashioned thing called love.
Set Decoration
Constantina Voulgaris’s first feature film is a delightful anomaly in contemporary cinema, sort of like a Cat Power song. Raw, earnest, melancholy, awkward in parts, razor sharp in others, it's lyrical, yet with an undercutting touch of offbeat humor. And more than anything it's unapologetically a girl's bedroom song, an utterly sincere home movie. Made with the ever-generous currency of a cast and crew of friends, and the ample downtime that Greek summer-in-the-city affords, when everybody else is sunning and hooking up out in the islands, it's a film about two exiles -- in Athens, in summer, in love. A sentimental dance between a girl and a boy who could be stuck in downtown any-ville, yearning to be with each other but too cool to dare, too chicken to admit it, too clumsy not to step on each other's Doc Martens, and too damn sentimental not to surrender, in the end, to that old-fashioned thing called love.
