Bastion Promenade Seventy Four

A wry, claustrophobic peek behind the camera where petty egos and an unexplained hum make for quietly funny, faintly uneasy viewing.

A wry, meandering comedy about filmmaking that feels like a shaggy-dog story with erotic undertones and a touch of absurdity.

A chatty, self-aware stage comedy where two performers riff on order, chaos, and the absurdity of cataloguing a life.

A breezy, good-natured backstage comedy that mines awkwardness and embarrassment for gentle laughs.

A wry, low-key backstage comedy that watches a small production quietly fall apart, amusing more than it stings.

A dry, talky French comedy of backstage egos and sibling friction, more amusing in its verbal textures than in any plot momentum.

A wry, gently absurd behind-the-scenes comedy about hapless filmmakers chasing an impossible animal, full of deadpan struggle and small human warmth.

A wry, uncomfortable comedy of two men circling each other, funny and sad in equal measure.

A wry, gentle satire of television and bureaucracy, amusing rather than sharp, with a likable amateur at its centre.

A dry, offbeat workplace vignette that drifts between quiet absurdity and gentle melancholy, asking patience for small rewards.

A gentle, amiably absurd workplace comedy where earnest idealism meets bureaucratic silliness, leaving a light, wry warmth.

A wry, behind-the-scenes look at a theatre struggling with money and egos, mixing backstage farce with a sharp critique of culture and class.