‘The Great Wall has been completed at its most southerly point.’ So begins Kafka’s short story ‘At the Building of the Great Wall of China’, and so, at Europe’s heavily militarised south-eastern frontier, begins this film. In the shadow of its own narratives of freedom, Europe has been quietly building its own great wall. Like its famous Chinese precursor, this wall has been piecemeal in construction, diverse in form and dubious in utility. Gradually cohering across the continent, this system of enclosure and exclusion is urged upon a populace seemingly willing to accept its necessity and to contribute to its building.

Debuting filmmaker Myrid Carten has been filming since she was a child, and when her mother goes missing, she picks up her camera again in response to this new crisis. Her mother Nuala, once a successful social worker, suffered a mental breakdown after the sudden death of her own mother. She shuffles between rehab clinics, psychiatric hospitals, and occasionally the street.

This is a beautiful and poetic cinematic ode to our moon. Made primarily from international cinematic archives in combination with literary fragments and original moonlit cinematography filmed across five continents, To the Moon steps lightly through the ages and ideas that people have drawn from the moon to create a meditative work.

1990. Led by Diego Maradona, the god of football, Napoli wins the national championship – the Scudetto – unleashing days of celebration in the city. 33 years later, both 1990 Azzurri fans and a new generation of supporters are uniting in preparation for another Scudetto triumph in June. Through the lens of these two ecstatic moments, and a sensitively depicted mosaic of its citizens, NAPOLI 1990, NAPOLI 2023 portrays the complexity, magic and fervor of Naples, the club and its supporters.

Naofumi Yximalloo Ishimaru is an obscure cult musician who has spent most of his 57 years on the fringes of music and society. Perennially uncertain of what he wants, Naofumi is constantly moving - drawing people to him before pushing them away and setting out alone once more.

In a small house, on the Irish coast, a woman writes a letter to an unknown correspondent. She ponders the evanescence of memory and art. Her home brims with traces of life—faded photographs, scattered artworks, some unfinished. All is shrouded by the constant murmur of the sea: that vast canvas of everything that was and will be.