Ylva van Putten

What do you do if you want to keep reality at a distance? You put a camera in between, just like the boy that unrelentingly lets his camera run at his father’s funeral. His mother can order him to put the thing away as much as she wants, the son keeps capturing what his eyes don’t want to see and his heart doesn’t want to feel. In the process, the handheld perspective also represents the mourning of a child who’d obviously rather play than weep.

Mies is turning twelve and everyone is welcome. She has plenty of cake, the coolest playlist ever, and all her chicks are coming. Or so she thinks... But actually, the party is at a boring campsite, her dad has invited two extremely stupid old folks, her chicks aren't coming at all, and there isn't quite enough cake after all. When the campsite's hottie agrees to come as well, Mies takes matters into her own hands.