Lemohang Jeremiah Mosese

В горах Лесото старуха ждёт возвращения сына, работающего на рудниках в Южной Африке, но вместо этого узнаёт о его смерти. Теперь она сама мечтает поскорее распроститься с жизнь, приводит дела в порядок и договаривается о том, чтобы её похоронили на местном кладбище. Но всё планы рушатся, когда становится известно, что местные власти намерены переселить деревню, затопить весь район и построит дамбу для водохранилища. Старуха решает сама отстаивать духовное наследие общины.

В горах Лесото старуха ждёт возвращения сына, работающего на рудниках в Южной Африке, но вместо этого узнаёт о его смерти. Теперь она сама мечтает поскорее распроститься с жизнь, приводит дела в порядок и договаривается о том, чтобы её похоронили на местном кладбище. Но всё планы рушатся, когда становится известно, что местные власти намерены переселить деревню, затопить весь район и построит дамбу для водохранилища. Старуха решает сама отстаивать духовное наследие общины.

В горах Лесото старуха ждёт возвращения сына, работающего на рудниках в Южной Африке, но вместо этого узнаёт о его смерти. Теперь она сама мечтает поскорее распроститься с жизнь, приводит дела в порядок и договаривается о том, чтобы её похоронили на местном кладбище. Но всё планы рушатся, когда становится известно, что местные власти намерены переселить деревню, затопить весь район и построит дамбу для водохранилища. Старуха решает сама отстаивать духовное наследие общины.

The wastelands and crowded streets of an African country are traversed by a woman bearing a wooden cross on her back. She is followed by sellers, beggars and passersby, outraged voices, pity and curious glances. Parallel to her, among a herd of sheep, a lamb toddles its way from the far away mountains into the heart of the city, only to find itself dangling, skinned and headless, on a butcher’s shoulder. In the meantime, under the scorching sun, in a roofless house, a woman is persistently knitting a garment, unwinding a thread coiled over her son’s face. ‘Mother, I Am Suffocating. This is My Last Film About You’ is a symbolic social-political voyage of a society, spiralling between religion, identity and collective memory. “I saw in you what they saw, mother. You deserve your war”.

The wastelands and crowded streets of an African country are traversed by a woman bearing a wooden cross on her back. She is followed by sellers, beggars and passersby, outraged voices, pity and curious glances. Parallel to her, among a herd of sheep, a lamb toddles its way from the far away mountains into the heart of the city, only to find itself dangling, skinned and headless, on a butcher’s shoulder. In the meantime, under the scorching sun, in a roofless house, a woman is persistently knitting a garment, unwinding a thread coiled over her son’s face. ‘Mother, I Am Suffocating. This is My Last Film About You’ is a symbolic social-political voyage of a society, spiralling between religion, identity and collective memory. “I saw in you what they saw, mother. You deserve your war”.

The wastelands and crowded streets of an African country are traversed by a woman bearing a wooden cross on her back. She is followed by sellers, beggars and passersby, outraged voices, pity and curious glances. Parallel to her, among a herd of sheep, a lamb toddles its way from the far away mountains into the heart of the city, only to find itself dangling, skinned and headless, on a butcher’s shoulder. In the meantime, under the scorching sun, in a roofless house, a woman is persistently knitting a garment, unwinding a thread coiled over her son’s face. ‘Mother, I Am Suffocating. This is My Last Film About You’ is a symbolic social-political voyage of a society, spiralling between religion, identity and collective memory. “I saw in you what they saw, mother. You deserve your war”.

The wastelands and crowded streets of an African country are traversed by a woman bearing a wooden cross on her back. She is followed by sellers, beggars and passersby, outraged voices, pity and curious glances. Parallel to her, among a herd of sheep, a lamb toddles its way from the far away mountains into the heart of the city, only to find itself dangling, skinned and headless, on a butcher’s shoulder. In the meantime, under the scorching sun, in a roofless house, a woman is persistently knitting a garment, unwinding a thread coiled over her son’s face. ‘Mother, I Am Suffocating. This is My Last Film About You’ is a symbolic social-political voyage of a society, spiralling between religion, identity and collective memory. “I saw in you what they saw, mother. You deserve your war”.

An itinerant preacher proclaims to people that their god is in the very coffin he is dragging along.

An itinerant preacher proclaims to people that their god is in the very coffin he is dragging along.

In a society riddled by patriarchy, Mosonngoa embarks on an incisive pursuit to save her father's farm. When all her attempts fail, she enters a stick-fighting competition - against all odds.

In a society riddled by patriarchy, Mosonngoa embarks on an incisive pursuit to save her father's farm. When all her attempts fail, she enters a stick-fighting competition - against all odds.

In a society riddled by patriarchy, Mosonngoa embarks on an incisive pursuit to save her father's farm. When all her attempts fail, she enters a stick-fighting competition - against all odds.

A young aspiring suicide candidate. A salesman of stolen knives. An evangelical pastor with a mystic past. The stories of these characters intertwine in a cold, hopeless Germany.

A young aspiring suicide candidate. A salesman of stolen knives. An evangelical pastor with a mystic past. The stories of these characters intertwine in a cold, hopeless Germany.

A young aspiring suicide candidate. A salesman of stolen knives. An evangelical pastor with a mystic past. The stories of these characters intertwine in a cold, hopeless Germany.