Norberto Lobo

Day breaks on the eighth floor in a suburban neighbourhood of Lisbon and 14-year-old David’s grandfather is still in hospital. Doctors give him only a few days to live. The imminence of death and the void that it will leave force David to become the man of the house, where he lives with his mother Mónica, who is in her 30s, and his three-year-old sister.

Welcome to Lisbon: there are mermaids by the Tagus and birds flying over the old city; there are mad scientists and singing fish; lost tourist guides and lost tourists; fado and sad guitars. What a weird city you may think - but no. Lisbon is about being different, sarcastic, welcoming to foreigners even in an economic crisis. Different directors became fascinated by our strangeness. We became fascinated by these directors. The city is never the same in these four episodes, here in Lisbon.

The start of Luís Rovisco’s old age isn’t exactly cheerful. Already in his sixties, he’s still roaming the country by himself, carrying out his tasks — increasingly less real — as sales director for the company SegurVale. Sadness, resignation? Not with the songs Luís makes up behind the wheel, and that take over this film from start to finish.

A headlong dive into the deepest, silliest recesses of Abrantes’s unconscious.

The panoramic shots are breathtaking: a majestic mountain landscape in winter, flat-roofed tin shacks cowering next to one other, women perched on steep slopes using primitive tools to break through pieces of rock. La Rinconada is situated over 5,000 meters high in the Peruvian Andes, on the edge of a gold mine. This 21st century El Dorado is an inhospitable place, where untold numbers of people live and work in the most precarious of conditions, hoping both for gold and a better life. Salomé Lamas has constructed a cinematic diptych to convey the extremity of this situation and the dimensions of its misery without having to resort to graphic images.

In the beginning the idea was to make something from nothing, in a neutral and unknown place. Collect images and sounds instead of producing them. The camera, the microphone and the mini-amplifier: tools that take away and then give back. We defined a rule: the sound shouldn't illustrate the image and the image shouldn't absorb the sound. Less than a hundred kilometres from Reykjavik we found Strokkur. For three days we saw and heard the internal dynamics of the crevice: the boiling water that spat out every seven minutes and the thermal shock, given the eighteen degrees below zero of the atmosphere.

João is an indolent young man, whose life is desperately empty. Day after day he goes through the motions of duplicating keys in his tiny shop concealed in the basement of an obsolete nearly deserted shopping center. Some day, he hopes, the lady of his heart will come and order the key that will unlock his heart. Against all expectation, the miracle happens...

Rampa tells the story of Matilde, a middle-class prep-school girl in Lisbon, who finds herself at a social crossroads when her parents divorce and she’s forced to move to a low-income neighbourhood across town. It is just after Summer holiday when Matilde, young and insecure, returns to school – but after the Summer troublesome events, everything feels different.

Underscored by French film legend Delphine Seyrig’s evocative recitation of a Henri Michaux poem, Maureen Fazendeiro’s film is a mysterious, multi-textured portrait of eclipse spectators in Portugal.

Every year millions of tourists come to Portugal to discover the country, the people and the culture. Many come in contact with tour guides. They convey history and national identity, illustrating how we regard ourselves and how we wish to present ourselves. The film is about how this identity is built and interpreted.

Alto do Minho sets off from the lowlands to the high season, to show different shades. The before and after, which are, after all, the same immutable Atlantic cycles of the mountainous landscape. And the upper lands. Where the profane is mistaken for faith, such as the past with present times. Alto do Minho is more than a movie, it’s a moving portrait. Glimpses that may bear the epic background of Gance, but that are a pop ethnographic observation, which rises up to the dormant feeling. It freezes up the anonymous and landscapes of popular festivals, geographies in shots with an impressionist editing, impregnated with an underlying randomness.