Los herederos

Magdalena hasn’t heard from her son in months — not since he left their town to cross the border into the United States. The authorities want her to sign her son’s death certificate, but an encounter with a bereaved parent makes Magdalena realize that she cannot live without knowing his fate. She begins an odyssey across Mexico, though areas of violence and desolation, chasing any available lead despite being warned not to publicly ask such questions. Along the way, she meets and travels with recently deported Miguel, who finds himself journeying home through a changed country. Grappling with the painful issue of migrants disappearing on their way to the U.S., writer/director Fernanda Valadez’s ambitious feature debut employs a tremendous economy of film language as it traverses across a varied contemporary Mexican landscape, expanding as our emotional experience of Magdalena’s journey swells to meet her own. The solemn Sin Señas Particulares punctuates its contemplation of family and loss with fleeting moments of human connection, allowing one woman’s aching personal story to encapsulate the weight of a tremendous real-world humanitarian crisis.

Claudia, a lonely young woman, works in a supermarket. One night, she ends up in the hospital with a severe case of appendicitis. There, she meets Martha, the woman resting in the bed next to hers. Martha, who lives alone with her four children, gains Claudia's trust. When she gets out of the hospital, she spontaneously offers Claudia to go home with them. Getting to know this family makes Claudia feel at ease. And for the first time she experiences a sense of belonging in this peculiar little tribe. As Martha's health weakens every day the bond Claudia has with each member of the family grows stronger.

Young brothers Max and Leo dream of going to Disneyland, but having just emigrated from Mexico to the USA they first have to settle in their new homeland. And they have to stick to the seven rules their mother has set down for them.

Before dying, Nora devises a plan to make José, ex-husband, take care of her funeral. But she misses something-the only flaw in the plan, a mysterious photograph left under the bed, will lead to an unexpected outcome that will remind us that sometimes the greatest love stories are hidden in the smallest places.

Set in a traditional world of bullfighting ranches in the Mexican state of Tlaxcala, Our Time tells the story of Juan and Ester, who have an open relationship, and the problems that arise when Ester falls in love with another man and Juan struggles to meet the expectations he has of himself.

In Mexico City, a lavish upper-class wedding descends into chaos during an unexpected lower-class uprising that leads to a violent coup and the collapse of law and order.

The border fence between Mexico and the United States is part of their lives; Mexican youths use it as a volleyball net on the beach, holding their own kind of international matches with their opposite numbers on the other side. When Nero scales the metres-high metal bars we suspect that he has done this often before: because nothing is going to divert him from his dream of becoming a US citizen. He follows the traces of his older brother which lead him to Los Angeles and the mansions of the rich and famous where he gazes incredulously at this very different lifestyle with its pools and double garages that he soon hopes will be his. His only chance of quickly acquiring a green card, however, is by volunteering for military service. Before he knows it, Nero finds himself in the desert landscape of the war zones of the Middle East, fighting for his citizenship with a machine gun in his hand. For his new drama, Rafi Pitts has chosen to accompany another wanderer on his existential journey.

Rafael has been a cleaner in the same light bulb factory for thirty years. It is his last day before retirement, and he even buys himself a pair of new shoes for the occasion. But his boss soon takes the wind out of this reticent man’s sails. Although Rafael has been a diligent and reliable worker, as an illegal immigrant to Tijuana from El Salvador he has no right to expect a pension ... Lidia is one of seven people keeping house for a rich Mexican woman in a wheelchair who has dedicated her life to her whippet Princess’ who eats from a golden bowl and sleeps on a silk cushion. Lidia has spent thirty years taking care of the dog and its ailing mistress, day and night. When Lidia’s employee dies and leaves her fortune to her dog nothing much changes for Lidia at first. Then she begins to think about what it means to have a dog as an employer. José-Luis Valles’ film Workers paints an affecting picture of the division of labour in today’s ostensibly egalitarian society. His point of view is political, not polemical, and his camera takes its time to describe scenes not just through actions but above all in certain moods.

Juan and Natalia are an obviously wealthy couple with two small children, Rut and Eleazar, who have bought a beautiful property on the countryside. While the children enjoy the life in nature, there are ruptures in the relationship between the parents, misunderstandings, reproaches, which are mainly about the sexual life of the two, which Juan finds boring and listless. Juan also sometimes shows strange impulses to beat up the dogs that belong to the property - preferably one of the animals, the one he loves the most. The longing for an idyll and for a life in harmony with nature turns out to be deceptive, because the house is haunted (literally and figuratively) by a demon.

Yo is an intellectually limited 30-year-old who lives with his mother in an isolated Mexican restaurant. Unsettled by a new man in his mother's life, he sets off in search of his first romantic experiences.