Kiri Giuliale

A taut, quiet standoff between a man and the ground beneath him, suspenseful and spare.

A quiet, uneasy gathering in a lonely place, drifting toward an ending you sense but cannot quite see coming.

A somber, slow meditation on loss that weighs heavily, offering little relief and asking for patient, attentive viewing.

A quiet, wintry short that sits heavily with you, more a mood of despair than a story.

A slow, austere and dreamlike experience that drifts between love and death, asking patience and rewarding it with unease.

A brief, quiet wartime vignette that plays out in near silence, keeping you tense and watchful as a fugitive seeks shelter.

A brief, intimate wartime call that plays like a held breath, tender and quietly tense.

A claustrophobic, nerve-stretching descent into dirt and dread, where every muffled sound from the other side tightens the screw.

A quiet, heavy, almost wordless descent into mourning, more ritual than story, and it asks you to sit with its sorrow.

A short, austere Russian drama that feels cold and oppressive, like watching something inevitable and unstoppable close in.

A quiet, somber rural drama that lingers on unspoken pain and the aftermath of violence.

A sombre, slow-burning look at lingering wartime wounds and the quiet hostility that still divides neighbours.