Begotten is the creation myth brought to life, the story of no less than the violent death of God and the (re)birth of nature on a barren earth.

A young woman faces her darkest fears with seven other unwilling participants in a deadly game — a game that can only have one winner.

Kameda, who has been in an asylum on Okinawa, travels to Hokkaido. There he becomes involved with two women, Taeko and Ayako. Taeko comes to love Kameda, but is loved in turn by Akama. When Akama realizes that he will never have Taeko, his thoughts turn to murder, and great tragedy ensues.

A deeply disturbed and epileptic young man benignly decides to murder other members of his dysfunctional family for altruistic reasons.

On a summer break from college, Ivy, a young epileptic woman, struggles to balance her feelings for her fledgling boyfriend while her friend Al crashes with her for the season.

A mother and daughter spend a night together after the daughter reveals that she will kill herself by the end of it.

Nicolás, a photographer, has suffered epilepsy since childhood and he is forced to take care of himself and sacrifice a lot, though he lives a normal life. On the other hand, Isabel is a woman who, apparently, has her whole life figured out although her mother is ill and she has no choice but to try to save her. Isabel and Nicolás fall in love in spite of themselves, their demons, their ghosts, and their weaknesses. Suddenly engaged in a relationship none of them would have even dared to imagine, they experience the love, passion, insecurity, fear, and allergy to commitment typical in people who are drifting away.

A Sunday walk in a forest turns into a poetic journey on perception.

A corridor of an apartment is transformed into a claustrophobic and vertiginous vortex that swallows and imprisons you in an infinite fall through a mise en abyme: it’s a pure enclosure inside the image world, it’s the Descent into the Maelstrom.

A ritual of grids, reflections and chasms; a complete state of entropy; a space that devours itself; a vertigo that destroys the gravity of the Earth; a trap that captures us inside the voids of the screen of light: «That blank arena wherein converge at once the hundred spaces» (Hollis Frampton).

Rainer Kohlberger’s abstract film was created entirely without a camera. Through digital algorithms, he precisely arranged a rhythm of light and shadow that pulsates off the screen into our physical space with blinding intensity. The presence of light is almost felt as we are sucked into the image to become its ghostly accomplice. As we leave the theatre, the optical vibrations continue to haunt us.

The corner of a street is matched and mixed with the chant of a bird recorded on that same street. A symbiotic relationship is triggered: the rapid and successively repetitive montage cuts between the image of the street and the corners of the video frame itself produce new textures and shapes in our brain, whilst the sound follows the same rhythmic movements by emphasizing different “corners” (frequencies) from the bird’s singing. The energetic potency stemming from the junction of these elements creates a new image that is almost tactitle, maleable and rippling. The result is a somewhat humorous operation of the portuguese word "corner" throughout the different stages of making the piece, finally unveiling a piercing physical and kinetic experience for all the corners of our eyes and ears.