Martine Rousset Filmes

Listen to the trace, over the absent times, from the shore, at the very edge of the page, in the blind corner where the reader is held, give a voice,...

"The sea is a language whose meaning we have lost" Jorge Luis Borges

Originally a text in fragments, more or less biographical, of different characters. Crossed stories, mixed times, memories and inventions. Coming...

One year before starting his famous series "Cinematons", Gerard Courant had made an ancestor to this series: the portrait of Martine Rousset, filmed...

An unknown writer written under the pseudonym of Laure at the beginning of the century. Readings. Geography. The places of a writing. The forces that...

A cinematic metaphor, conceived as part of a compilation of films on AIDS, this is an emotional translation of the disease. The juxtaposition of...

Winter, fog, outside. The outline of eyes, sometimes we could ride those trails.

Filmmaker's visual diary aboard the Vangolu Express.

Wandering through Central Asia, the Caucasus, Kurdistan… to Istanbul. Cities and trains, steppes and snow, down there where the pulse of time...

The voices say a story. forget it. Of what time. And who speaks. Both of them. One or the other. later. Others may be. Of chance. Which would...

in the meantime , lighthouse , old lighthouse , far away , beyond the ponds , coolpix , little coolpix , long before the perfect clone .

Portrait. She dances in the center of her area. Obscure to the look. She abandons us to her limit. Turn. Count the chips. Conjugate. Turn on...

Traces of stories. The images themselves. Tear off. Stain. To paint. Makes light out of them.

Sha-Dada is an "expanded" film on two screens which presents itself as a confrontation between two imperialisms.

A film about my relationship to New York since 1962. It deals with the distance between a memory and the image of this memory, a distance one always...

"Yerevan, Armenia, in the illegible secret of the country, imprisoned in its shadows, in its nights of the underground, nights of the basements,...

Night is falling the landscape is disappearing leave the world and its memory the night, rags in its wake last page.