The 22nd Marrakech International Film Festival and its Atlas Workshops: A Global Event Shaping the Future of MENA Cinema

Arriving in Marrakech at the end of November to attend the Marrakech International Film Festival means being embraced at once by a warm, golden light that bathes the renowned “Red City,” an architectural gem nestled at the foot of the Atlas Mountains.

A short drive along palm-lined boulevards brings visitors to the festival’s heart: the Palais des Congrès, hosting gala screenings, and the nearby Meydene Cultural Center, home to key conversations. Genuine hospitality defines the experience, often expressed through the greeting, “You are welcome to Morocco!” – a phrase that immediately makes everyone feel at home. In the same spirit, from its inception, this unique event has channelled the city’s vibrant energy, transforming it into a dynamic hub connecting cultures, perspectives, and a bold spectrum of cinematic voices. Under the high patronage of His Majesty King Mohammed VI, with His Royal Highness Prince Moulay Rachid presiding, this 22nd edition of the Marrakech International Film Festival, held from 28 November to 6 December 2025, reinforced its standing as a cornerstone event on the global film calendar. Central to Marrakech’s distinctive character is its dual mission: to be a magnet for international auteurs and stars while serving as a genuine incubator for emerging talents.

Festival director Rémy Bonhomme stands for this vision; he described the Marrakech International Film Festival not only as a celebration of film culture but as “a laboratory of the future,” where rigorous curation meets open dialogue. This forward-thinking approach has allowed the festival to evolve into a thriving cultural network that actively shapes the trajectory of films rather than simply showcasing them. At the heart of this mission are the Atlas Workshops, launched by Bonhomme eight years ago to nurture the burgeoning wave of regional creativity. “The Atlas Programs are not yet another market,”¹ he explained, but rather a set of precise, curated initiatives tailored to enhance the real journey of a film, from development to distribution.” Consequently, supporting Moroccan, Arab, and African cinema – regions whose films are increasingly featured at major festivals worldwide and gaining broader international distribution – is a key, long-term commitment of the festival. 

Since he took over in 2020, Bonhomme has focused on reinforcing Marrakech’s international profile without compromising its identity, placing emerging filmmakers firmly at the festival’s core. The main competition now exclusively showcases first and second features. Highly prestigious juries help magnify this strategy, providing films with crucial visibility, press attention, and professional recognition. Timing also strengthens Marrakech’s strategic role. Held at the start of the Oscar race, the festival has become an integral part of the awards season, with a growing number of films screened in Marrakech later selected as their countries’ official Oscar submissions. 

This positioning was underlined by the presence of Bill Kramer, CEO of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences. He was invited for a public talk and to meet filmmakers and producers from the region at a moment when the Academy is actively addressing diversity and representation both in its voters and the films it represents. This shift has profoundly altered industry perceptions. Where distributors once hesitated to commit to early December, they now see Marrakech as a valuable opportunity. As Bonhomme put it, “They understand that important voters are here, that talents can travel, and that films can be shown in a meaningful context.” 

Promis le ciel (Promised Sky)

True to this vision, over ten days, the festival showcased sixty-eight films, thoughtfully curated into five distinct sections. The International Competition featured thirteen first and second features from the MENA region and beyond, spotlighting emerging filmmakers. Nine of the year’s most anticipated releases were presented in the high-profile gala screenings, while Horizons assembled nineteen titles ranging from notable discoveries to established works from the international festival circuit. The 11th Continent sidebar comprised fifteen films, pairing formally innovative contemporary cinema with newly restored classics from Arab and African film history, while the Moroccan Panorama showcased seven recent national fiction and documentary productions. Completing the lineup was a dedicated, well-loved program for children and families, featuring five titles. From the grandiose Salle des Ambassadors and Salle des Ministers to the legendary Colisée cinema in the vibrant Gueliz district, and on to the auditorium of the Yves Saint Laurent Museum beside the lush Jardin Majorelle, all these venues were packed with audiences keen to explore the festival’s line-up and engage in the lively Q&A sessions after each screening. 

It comes as no surprise that this edition concluded with a record attendance: 47,000 cinephiles flocked to the screenings – 7,000 more than last year. Alongside the film program, four tributes celebrated a diverse range of figures: iconic Moroccan actress Raouya, American legend Jodie Foster, Hussein Fahmi – a defining presence in Egyptian and Arab cinema – and Mexican auteur Guillermo del Toro, highlighting the festival’s local and global identity. One of the festival’s standout features – and an undeniable highlight – is its carefully curated line-up of conversations, open to the public free of charge and featuring world-renowned figures. Among them was Karim Aïnouz, who captivated the audience with his insightful reflections on his creative process and genuine generosity; Guillermo del Toro, in a razor-sharp, witty, and intimate dialogue led by his longtime collaborator and Nightmare Alley (2021) co-writer Kim Morgan; and Jodie Foster, who laid bare her entire career, beginning with her childhood, with unflinching honesty and disarming openness. 

Yet the most electrifying moment came from Jafar Panahi, who, just one day before his talk, learned of his one-year prison sentence in absentia – and shocked everyone by boldly announcing his intention to return to his country and confront the charges head-on. Stressing the festival’s commitment to cinematic diversity and sharp critical insight, this year’s jury, led by Bong Joon Ho, united a dynamic range of voices. Joining the South Korean director were Brazilian filmmaker Karim Aïnouz, Moroccan director Hakim Belabbes, French director Julia Ducournau, Iranian actor-director Payman Maadi, American actress Jenna Ortega, Canadian-Korean director Celine Song, and British-Argentinian actress Anya Taylor-Joy. On a moving, flawlessly orchestrated closing night at the Palais des Congrès, the festival jury revealed the winners of this year’s coveted prizes. The prestigious Étoile d’Or, the grand prize, went to Promis le ciel (Promised Sky, 2025), a gripping work from Tunisian filmmaker Erige Sehiri, while Debora Lobe Naney delivered a powerhouse performance that earned her Best Performance for the same film. The Jury Prize was split ex-aequo between Jihan K’s searing My Father and Qaddafi (2025) and Vladlena Sandu’s haunting Memory (2025). Oscar Hudson won Best Director for the bold Straight Circle (2025), and Ṣọpẹ́ Dìrísù captivated everyone with his commanding Best Actor performance in Akinola Davies Jr.’s My Father’s Shadow (2025).

Yet to fully grasp Marrakech’s unique cinematic heartbeat, one must look beyond the screenings and star-studded galas. The true engine of its creative pulse is the Atlas Workshops – an ambitious initiative launched in 2018. Now in its eighth edition, held from 30 November to 4 December, the Atlas Program has established itself as a key pillar of the Marrakech International Film Festival. Encompassing several initiatives – Atlas Workshops, Atlas Station, Atlas Distribution, and Atlas Press – it offers filmmakers unwavering support throughout their creative journeys, from early development stages to international distribution. Equally important is its role in cultivating a new generation of film critics from the region. At the core of this vibrant ecosystem are the Atlas Workshops: a dedicated space where cinematic talent is carefully nurtured through close mentorship, dialogue with industry leaders, and tailored professional development. In line with the workshops’ commitment to fostering emerging voices, Cristian Mungiu has been appointed patron for 2025, bringing his precious experience and vision to support the initiative. Thanks to a steadfast commitment to quality and meticulous curation, the Atlas Workshops have become a vital platform for emerging cinema from the MENA region, recognized both locally and globally. As Hédi Zarbi, Head of the Workshops, confidently remarked, “The Atlas Workshops have become a must-attend event and a cornerstone of the festival. Professionals attend because they trust the careful curation and the preservation of the sessions’ original spirit and highest standards.”ˆ²

Kadib Abyad (The Mother of All Lies)

This year marked an exciting expansion with the launch of the Atlas Distribution Meetings. Bringing together around sixty distributors and sales agents from Africa, the Arab world, and Europe, this initiative seeks to break the barriers that often confine films from the region to niche markets. It is a clear demonstration of the Atlas Workshop’s holistic support for films – from conception and production to distribution and media outreach. Over eight editions, the workshops have nurtured 179 projects. Many have gone on to achieve remarkable success on the international festival circuit, underscoring the program’s lasting impact on the cinema of the Mena region. “We seek bold stories with a clear point of view,” Zarbi explained. “Projects that think locally but act globally. Among the submissions, we’ve witnessed strong and daring storytelling. This confidence is fuelled by growing access to regional funding and stable national support, enabling filmmakers to take risks and reach for the sky. The Senegalese first feature Banel & Adama (2023) screened at Cannes, and Asmae El Moudir’s Moroccan documentary, Kadib Abyad (The Mother of All Lies, 2023), won the L’Œil d’Or for Best Documentary. These successes show that filmmakers from the region are no longer rare exceptions at the world’s most prestigious festivals – they are increasingly the norm.” 

This edition showcased 28 projects, highlighting the vitality and diversity of contemporary MENA cinema. Of the twelve films in development from Angola, Burkina Faso, Egypt, Jordan, Lebanon, Morocco, Mozambique, Palestine, and Tanzania – ten fictions and two documentaries – five were debut features. Ten projects from Egypt, Ghana, Lebanon, Morocco, Palestine, the Democratic Republic of Congo, and Yemen were in production or post-production, encompassing nine fiction films and one documentary; among them were five first features. Additionally, five Moroccan fiction projects, all first features in development, were featured in the “Regards sur l’Atlas” section, while one Moroccan film, in its final editing stage, sought its festival premiere at the Atlas Film Showcase. “This edition is truly special,” Zarbi continues. “We invited projects from some of the region’s most prominent voices, creating a real buzz in the market. We’re also proud to welcome back directors like Lebanese filmmaker Mounia Akl and Jordanian Amjad Al Rasheed, who debuted with us and now return with their second features. It’s essential that filmmakers stay engaged with this crucial development stage, even after initial success.” 

Among the 2025 selection were established filmmakers alongside promising new voices. Jordanian director Amjad Al Rasheed returned with his new project Under Her Eye, following his debut Inshallah walad (Inshallah a boy, 2023), developed at the Ateliers de l’Atlas in 2022 and presented at Cannes’ Semaine de la Critique in 2023. Palestinian filmmaker Scandar Copti, winner of the 2024 Marrakech Golden Star for Happy Holidays, showcased his upcoming project A Childhood, currently in development. Suha Arraf, whose Villa Touma screened at Venice Critics’ Week in 2014, shared her second fiction feature, Chentian, now in post-production. Lebanese director Mounia Akl introduced her second feature, Hold Me (If You Want), following the international success of Costa Brava, Lebanon at Venice in 2021. Moroccan cinema featured prominently, with Laïla Marrakchi presenting La Más Dulce, now in post-production, alongside Asmae El Moudir, winner of the 2023 Marrakech Golden Star for The Mother of All Lies, who unveiled her second feature documentary, Don’t Let the Sun Go Up on Me, currently in production. 

Alongside these established figures, emerging talents stood out. Burkinabé filmmaker Boubacar Sangaré, previously selected in 2022 with Or de Vie, presented his debut fiction feature Les Dieux Délinquants. Elisé Sawasawa from the Democratic Republic of Congo introduced his first documentary project, Goma Enough is Enough. Financial support remains a backbone of the Atlas Workshop’s mission. For this edition, €120,000 was allocated across eight projects. The post-production jury – Beatrice Fiorentino, Martin Gondre, and Hania Mroue – awarded €20,000 each to Asmae El Moudir’s Don’t Let the Sun Go Up on Me and Laïla Marrakchi’s La Más Dulce, while €10,000 grants went to Elisé Sawasawa’s Goma Enough is Enough and Mohammed Hammad’s Safe Exit. Development funding, awarded by Karim Aitouna, Ama Ampadu, and Olivier Père, saw the largest grant, €30,000, go to Ique Langa’s Chapa 100, followed by €20,000 for Boubacar Sangaré’s Les Dieux Délinquants, and €5,000 each to A Childhood by Scandar Copti and Vanda by Kamy Lara.

Following a successful edition, Hédi Zarbi reflected on what lies ahead for the Atlas Workshops: “I want to firmly anchor this dynamic focus on development. It’s not about expanding significantly in size but preserving the time and space for quality work. In our constantly evolving industry, we continuously assess what works and adapt, but the lab’s DNA – careful curation and a supportive environment – must never be lost. We want participants to face the international industry with confidence while maintaining their projects’ integrity.” The synergy between the Atlas Workshops and the official festival program has never been stronger. Nine workshop-supported films featured prominently in the 2025 festival lineup, confirming the program’s role as a vital launchpad for new voices from the MENA region. These include Promised Sky by Erige Sehiri, Eayshat lam taeud qadiratan ealaa altayaran (Aisha Can’t Fly Away, 2025) by Morad Mostafa, Allly baqi mink (All That’s Left of You, 2025) by Cherien Dabis, El Sett by Marwan Hamed, Behind the Palm Trees (Derrière les palmiers) by Meryem Benm’barek, Laundry by Zamo Mkhwanazi, Once Upon a Time in Gaza by Arab and Tarzan Nasser, Un monde fragile et merveilleux by Cyril Aris, and Life after Siham (La Vie après Siham, 2005) by Namir Abdel Messeeh. 

Eayshat lam taeud qadiratan ealaa altayaran (Aisha Can’t Fly Away)

Morad Mostafa’s striking debut feature, Aisha Can’t Fly Away, 2025, is a compelling example of how the Marrakech International Film Festival’s Atlas Workshops act as a springboard for new voices from the MENA region. The project won the top Postproduction Prize in 2024, a crucial milestone on its path to Un Certain Regard in Cannes and was selected for the international competition at the Marrakech Film Festival. Aisha, a young Sudanese migrant in Cairo, works as a nurse and home caregiver, moving between temp agency assignments. Tall and slender, taciturn, with an alert and impenetrable gaze – one eye blue, the other brown – her head covered by a veil, she appears determined and relentless. The film hinges on Buliana Simon’s extraordinary performance, embodying raw resilience in a mysterious, enigmatic figure reminiscent of a graphic novel heroine. The director gradually ushers us into Aisha’s world, building surprise through a carefully calibrated crescendo where the codes of realism become porous, allowing for deeply unsettling images and visions. The mobile, often handheld camera follows Aisha as she navigates the city’s traffic in her daily routine – from her apartment in Ain Shams, a district controlled by the local boss Zuka, along never-ending bus routes to the employment agency, and into patients’ homes. Her only nightly diversion is a stop at a large, empty restaurant kitchen, where the cook – a gentle, solitary Egyptian man she has grown close to – prepares her favourite spaghetti and drives her back. Endless dust, crumbling buildings, suffering bodies and souls, and constant noise define Aisha’s harsh universe. News of Sudan’s armed conflict ricochets from TV, a distant but persistent reminder of a torn country. Her path is riddled with obstacles: Zuka threatens eviction unless she gives him duplicate keys to the homes she works in, enabling robberies. During one burglary, a homeowner, brutally beaten, falls into a coma. Though investigated, Aisha escapes consequences but grows increasingly vulnerable. In her ordeals, she befriends a fellow Sudanese girl – audacious and independent – who lives in a commune of Sudanese women. The only time Aisha smiles is during a day she spends with the group, sharing food and life stories in joyful solidarity. Prisoner of her precarious status as a woman and migrant, she meanders through a labyrinth with few exits. 

Her grim journey begins in a realist style that gradually fractures, revealing an imaginary space where fears and moral conflicts manifest as a giant ostrich that keeps appearing before her. The fragile life she has built crumbles. The Egyptian cook, her only real support, is forced to end their relationship and suddenly vanishes. An elderly diabetic man she cares for violently coerces her into a degrading act. The mise-en-scène blends fantasy and body horror into realism, giving form to Aisha’s suffering as a terrifying skin disease. Yet Aisha resists. She strikes a deal with Zuka, who becomes her unexpected ally. The film culminates in a gangster-movie sequence, with Aisha miraculously saving her apartment from fire. Finally, things seem to settle. She begins work at a retirement home and looks happier – if not for small feathers sprouting from her boils, hinting at an unsettling change. By seamlessly blending genre cinema, body horror, fantasy, and action elements, director Morad Mostafa breaks free from documentary-style realism. This bold stylistic choice powerfully redefines how social and political issues – like women’s conditions, migrant experiences, and Sudan’s armed conflict – can be portrayed with originality and impact.

Promis le ciel (Promised Sky)

While Aisha Can’t Fly Away explores immigration, female identity, and discrimination in Egypt through the struggles of a single character, Promised Sky – a project also presented and supported by the Atlas Workshops, the second feature by Franco-Tunisian filmmaker Edvige Sehiri, and winner of this year’s  prestigious Étoile d’Or – offers a collective portrait of three Ivorian women living together in Tunis. The lives of Marie, a pastor, Naney, an undocumented migrant, and Jolie, a student, intertwine through mutual trust and support. When Kenza, a four-year-old shipwreck survivor, suddenly enters their world – bringing new bonds and unforeseen challenges – their fragile yet vital connection begins to falter. With a refined mise en scène and deep emotional sensitivity, Promised Sky offers a restrained and deeply human portrayal of migrant women. The narrative unfolds through impressionistic, swiftly sketched scenes, often focusing on the women’s gaze and the small gestures of everyday life, and relies on ellipsis and what remains unsaid. Moving beyond dominant narratives, Sehiri confronts the harsh realities beneath the surface. Each woman carries wounds alongside hopes and a fierce will to persevere, in a country where migration policies grow increasingly severe, and many perceive Black immigrants from Sub-Saharan Africa as threats to their identity. 

There is grace in the way Sehiri depicts three very different women united by their desire to build a dignified new life. At the heart of the narrative, Kenza’s silent yet remarkable presence embodies both delicacy and resilience within this makeshift family. Marie leads this fragile community with quiet strength and hidden vulnerability. Once a journalist and now a pastor in Tunisia, she holds together her “Church of Perseverance” while wrestling with difficult moral dilemmas, especially concerning little Kenza. Naney is fierce and resourceful, relentlessly fighting to reunite with her daughter despite lacking legal papers; her gritty determination fuels much of the film’s urgency. A young engineering student with legal status, Jolie embodies hope through education – until systemic prejudice shatters that illusion. Her scepticism toward Marie’s faith heightens the film’s tension, while her family’s expectations weigh heavily on her. 

Delving into the psychology of her characters and their complex relationships, the director draws on three extraordinary actresses. Aïssa Maïga delivers a striking performance as Marie, Laetitia Ky convincingly embodies Jolie, yet it is Debora Christelle Lobe Naney’s powerful portrayal of Naney that emerges as the true revelation, and earned  her the festival’s Best Actress prize. Visually arresting, the film unfolds through a luminous palette of blues and greens. Cinematographer Frida Marzouk delicately frames the protagonists’ faces, often presenting them as living portraits against a radiant, pristine sky. The dialogue is finely crafted – words are purposeful, silences meaningful – while the naturalistic mise en scène lends the film precision and authenticity, offering an intimate glimpse into the characters’ lives. The director traces the arc of this small community – moments of joy, hope, and hardship – up to its eventual dissolution, when each woman faces her responsibilities and destiny alone. Many dreams are shattered, yet by confronting the harsh realities of their existence, they emerge stronger and more self-aware, ready to embrace disappointment and defeat as essential parts of their journey. An ode to human dignity and the right of every person to be respected regardless of race or origin, Promised Sky affirms, without rhetoric, the enduring strength of resilience.

My Father and Qaddafi

Another powerful female voice is that of American-Libyan filmmaker Jihan K. In her deeply personal feature debut, My Father and Qaddafi – which was screened in the festival’s international competition and earned her the ex-aequo Jury Prize – Jihan K poignantly retraces her father’s disappearance, transforming her pain and loss into a profound meditation on history, memory, and political violence. Mansur Rashid Kikhia – a former Libyan diplomat, human rights lawyer, and outspoken opponent of Muammar Gaddafi – was abducted in 1993 from his hotel in Cairo, where he had gone to attend a human rights conference. He never returned. Jihan was only four years old at the time, too young to remember him.

The film unfolds from that absence: Jihan’s aim is not simply to reconstruct her father’s figure and his troubled, obscure past, but to fill a painful void. Rather than a conventional investigation, My Father and Qaddafi is a reflection on how lives are transmitted by others – through voices, documents, gestures, and memories. Jihan becomes a recipient of inherited narratives, all partial and emotionally charged. “I rely on other people’s memories,” she says in the film, expressing not only a personal limitation but a broader truth about how history survives: indirectly, unevenly, and often fragmentarily. Mansur Kikhia exists on screen through accounts that elevate him to a symbol of political integrity amidst an environment defined by compromise and fear. Ultimately, what is at stake in the film is not so much who Mansur really was, but how his absence continues to affect those he left behind. 

At the centre of this transmission stands Baha Al Omary, Mansur Kikhia’s courageous and indomitable wife, and Jihan’s mother. Her refusal to let her husband’s fate dissolve into silence becomes the film’s most tangible form of resistance. Her personal grief transforms into a fierce confrontation with politicians, power, and historical denial. She relentlessly speaks to the press and investigates on her own, searching for any clue or trace capable of explaining her husband’s disappearance. She even goes as far as to meet Gaddafi himself – who was likely behind Mansur’s abduction – in one of the film’s most unsettling sequences. In archival footage, he receives her very politely but offers ambiguous answers when she asks directly if her husband is dead or still alive somewhere. 

The film’s engagement with Libyan history follows a similar logic. Rather than dramatizing events, it presents them: colonization, coup, dictatorship, exile, collapse. History is shown as a process that interrupts lives, distorts time, and outlives individuals. The alternation between intimate family material and broader political exposition – a remarkable editorial achievement – may feel dissonant at times, yet this dissonance is essential. Meanwhile, home videos – many filmed by Baha Al Omary – function more as fragile relics than comforting memories. They promise intimacy while underscoring exclusion: moments the filmmaker can see but never truly enter. Cinema becomes a paradoxical tool – capable of preserving presence while simultaneously confirming loss. When My Father and Qaddafi finally confronts the shameful truth of Mansur’s fate, the revelation offers no catharsis. Knowledge does not resolve grief; it only sharpens its contours. Ultimately, Jihan rejects the idea that truth heals. To tell her father’s story means for her to refuse his disappearance, even when reality is unbearable. My Father and Qaddafi embraces fragmentation as both a method and an ethical stance. It does not reconcile the personal and the political, the father and the nation, the past and the present. It holds them together without smoothing their edges. In doing so, it suggests that cinema’s most radical gesture may be its willingness to remain incomplete – to testify not to what can be recovered, but to what must not be forgotten.

With Hasan in Gaza

Palestinian filmmaker Kamal Aljafari’s With Hasan in Gaza, screened in the 11th Continent section, unfolds as a posthumous cartography – powerful and deeply unsettling images mapping the memory of a people, a place, and a life as it once was. In 2001, Aljafari moved to Germany to study film at the age of 26. Nearly two decades later, by sheer chance, he stumbled upon three MiniDV tapes among his old film archives, marked with an Arabic title: With Hasan in Gaza. The tapes surfaced at a moment of urgent crisis in Gaza, as if the film had been quietly waiting to be unveiled at the right time. Aljafari had no recollection of their content; he even wondered if someone else had recorded them. It was only when his own image appeared on screen that fragments of memory returned, slowly leading him back to his journey to Gaza, when he had gone in search of a friend, Abdel Rahim – a young man imprisoned, like Aljafari himself, in 1989 for political reasons by the Israelis. For him, watching these images was like discovering life after death, and choosing to share them became an act of resistance – a sharp denunciation of today’s harsh realities, but also, beyond destruction, a fierce celebration of life. 

Aljafari’s road trip unfolds as a raw, vivid, sometimes hallucinatory journey through Gaza, a gut-wrenching testimony of the past shaped by loss. The director edited the footage untouched – no cuts, no effects. Though he often holds the camera, he sometimes passes it to Hasan, a local guide traveling with him. The images are unfiltered, improvised, and shaky; the framing, rough and unpredictable. Shot mostly from a moving car, the film is made of long, trembling tracking shots that capture glimpses of life in motion. “We are all prisoners without administration,” Hasan declares sharply. Many shops are shuttered. Some refuse to be filmed, fearing the loss of their electronic ID work permits. As the journey progresses, the geography becomes clear:  the narrowness of the strip, and the sea that appears unexpectedly around a corner – a soothing blue horizon. Danger is ever-present, yet life insists on breaking through: bustling open-air markets, groups of men playing cards in cafés, casual anglers dotting the beach, a falafel stand, and children everywhere – leaping eagerly before the camera and urging the filmmaker to record them. The film is punctuated by these fleeting portraits of Gaza’s children – vibrant, oblivious to the surrounding peril, and joyful in that innocent way only childhood can be. While the images are left untouched, the sound has been carefully reworked. Ambient noises, the musical score, various songs – old and new – form a textured backdrop where emotions and sensations take over. Throughout, Aljafari remains silent in the background, honouring the unvarnished truth of the footage. Only at the end does he turn to writing to evoke his youth; his dreams, his imprisonment, the humiliations he endured. The search for his lost friend ends in silence. As the final scenes fade, a void opens beneath us – a stark reminder that all we have seen belongs to a ghostly reality. Yet within this haunting space, cinema unleashes its true power: an art that defies time and catastrophe. For a fleeting instant, life itself bursts forth on the screen.

Marrakech International Film Festival
28 November – 6 December 2025
https://marrakech-festival.com/en/home/

Endnotes