FILTRE
2026 · 2m
Directed by Sidonie Gouëdar
Tones: contemplative, tender
On a balcony above the illuminated city, Lucas shares a precious moment with his grandfather Marcel; over glasses of wine they question beauty in the age of digital filters, in a tender ode to authenticity.
Picked by Margot
The scouts
A two-minute meditation on authenticity vs. filters sounds like the kind of well-intentioned thing that usually bores me to tears, but Gouëdar's refusal to make this a sermon—just two people talking on a balcony—is almost subversive in its restraint; she trusts the premise enough to not oversell it.
This is precisely the kind of formally modest film that reveals its sophistication on a second viewing: the mise-en-scène of the lit city below, the wine glasses as both prop and metaphor, the intergenerational framing that situates itself in a long tradition of cinema about time and perception—small choices that accumulate into something genuinely considered.
The entire film pivots on Gouëdar's decision to keep the camera almost still, letting the conversation breathe without cutting—that restraint, that trust in the performances and the space itself, transforms what could've been a greeting-card sentiment into something that actually feels earned.