A biography told by a deserted room. The colour nuances succeed each other like the stages of life, bathing the furniture and plants in the light of memories.

The grubby all-male Liverpool flat share is out of control: Shirley doesn’t pay the rent, nobody cleans up, the jokes are getting grimmer. A war of nerves with a New Wave soundtrack.

A mining village in South Yorkshire. The mine, one of the last in Great Britain, is about to be closed.

A disastrous fire in a London residential tower block. A director discovers that there is a difference between seeing yourself as a filmmaker or as a media representative and news supplier.

The chronicle of an oral cavity: from inside, wildly traced, literally, with the tip of the tongue. An X-ray of the body decaying over time, fascinated by the amalgam of food, tongue, throat and stomach.

In the midst of the First World War, Herbert James Gunn painted bathing young men in the South of France – soldiers, few of whom are believed to have survived the next day, which was to be one of the bloodiest in the war.

Horacio falls under the spell of his wife’s doll look-alike. A bizarre chamber play with fascinating tableaux vivants about false perceptions and a soul caught in an inexorable feverish frenzy.

Mechanical clocks may be out of fashion, but they give the charismatic protagonist of this short portrait something to hold on to in his life.

If you believe his autobiography, inconceivable things must have happened to Tony: abuse, Aids, broken bones. Tony is still lost. But one man hasn’t forgotten him.

Two figures fall silent. Separated, they do not fare particularly well. They repeatedly meet in sibling-like intimacy and form a world of their own, free from the grasp of words.