Yamée Couture

Rachel loves her life, her students, her friends, her ex, her guitar lessons. When she falls in love with Ali, she grows close to his 4-year-old daughter, Leila. She tucks her in, looks after her, and loves her like a mother... which she isn’t. Not yet. Rachel is 40. The desire for a family of her own is growing stronger, and the clock is ticking. Is it too late?

Cajun filmmaker Louis Leger and attorney Dolores Arceneaux join forces in the Cajun prairie community of Pointe Noire in an effort to save the life of Joel Richard, a falsely accused Cajun man on Louisiana's Death Row.

Émilie lives in a world of surveillance: her camgirl work; the camera phone lingering on a crush from afar; the headset affording her a drone’s perspective. The same drone that stalks each move she makes, offering inspiration, noting rivals. An unsolicited companion is conspiring with or against her. A financially strapped transplant now living in the Paris suburbs, Émilie is thrust into a high-powered world when she is chosen for a renovation workshop with a prestigious architect. Her classmates come mostly from “filthy rich” backgrounds, like cocky Olivier, who wants Émilie as his conquest. But Émilie has shy eyes only for self-sufficient Mina, whose music builds like a “helicoid.” A drone—unlike any known model—is watching her all along waiting for her next move and paying handily for the privilege.

In the future, a human finds the past.

Jean left his hometown ten years ago. When his father falls ill, he comes back and reunites with his sister Juliette and his brother Jérémie. As seasons go by around their vineyard, they'll have to trust each other again.

Four separate stories deal with stereotypical ideas about Jews: their alleged influence on politics, the stereotype of Jewish business-mindedness, the Mossad, the Jewish world conspiracy and the memory of the Holocaust.

No synopsis available yet.

None of this will matter to the people who come here after us. They'll turn it into a walk-in closet or a parental suite. Our memories are worth more than that. They don't belong in boxes, they are everywhere.