I love when music videos feel like short films. The Blaze’s ‘Territory’ touches me because of its tenderness and its deep sense of humanity—especially in the way it portrays men and masculinity. It makes me think a lot about how men are seen in Arab societies: strong, silent, expected to carry everything alone. In this film, they are allowed to be fragile, affectionate, lost, loving. It also reminds me of Claire Denis’ ‘Beau Travail’, the same sensuality, the same attention to skin, rhythm, and presence.

One of the best films I’ve ever seen. This film feels like a gentle miracle. It’s full of goodness that feels almost impossible today. I love it because it has a fragile innocence in its protagonist that feels like a powerful form of resistance. I’m a big fan of Alice’s work.

Gena Rowlands is completely present in this film. Not performing, not pretending — just existing in front of the camera with terrifying honesty. Every look, every movement feels like it is happening for the first time. Watching her taught me that acting is not about control, but about surrender. She is fragile, wild, painful, and unforgettable.

I love this film because it sees filmmaking as a way of healing. Cinema becomes a bridge between people, between generations, between what we feel and what we cannot say. It shows how films can hold memories and bring people closer.

What moves me most is the humility of its images. The camera doesn’t dominate life — it listens to it. Natural light, open landscapes, long silences, and small gestures filmed with respect. Every frame breathes. This kind of simplicity seduces me as a filmmaker when you are present with the film.

I love how this series looks at women — their rage, tenderness, fear, and power. The camera listens to them. It feels like a space where women are allowed to be messy, strong, broken, and alive at the same time.

This film feels like a punch in the face. The kind of film that stays with you long after the credits. It’s cinema as a necessity — not to entertain, but to confront, but to bear witness, and to make sure a voice is not lost. Hind Rajab’s story hits you with urgency and courage, and the film refuses to let you look away. It reminds me that sometimes telling a story is an act of responsibility. Alongside ‘The Seed of the Sacred Fig’, it shows how cinema can preserve memory, confront injustice, and give life to voices that might otherwise be erased. It’s shocking, painful, and essential.

This film is a quiet, gentle masterpiece. I love it because it’s full of patience, simplicity, and humanity. Every shot feels lived-in, and every gesture carries weight. Lynch thought that cinema doesn’t always need spectacle to move you; sometimes truth, kindness, and persistence are enough to touch the heart.

I love this film. And I love comedy — especially when it dares to be dark, cruel, and wildly honest. I go back to ‘Wild Tales’ from time to time because it never loses its power. Each short film in it feels like a small explosion of human emotion. What makes it beautiful to me is that it laughs at things we’re usually ashamed to admit — how easily we can lose control, how close we all are to madness. It’s funny, but it’s also unsettling. Comedy can be one of the sharpest ways to talk about human nature.