Bouchra

Bouchra has writer’s block. A 35-year-old Moroccan filmmaker living in New York, she is attempting to pen an autobiographical script about a mother-daughter relationship. The distance between her Brooklyn life, defined by club nights, queer dates, creative anxiety, and her mother's home in Casablanca feels unbridgeable. They haven't truly spoken in nine years. Then her mother calls.

What follows is a radical act of autofiction: Bouchra exists as an anthropomorphic coyote, navigating a world of photorealistic, furry creatures that blur the line between reality, memory, and fantasy. Hand-drawn memories bleed into animated flashbacks. Leaky apartments seem to absorb emotional weather. In long, awkward, painfully honest phone calls, mother and daughter begin, slowly, to find each other again.

Voiced entirely by the director's own friends and family, Bouchra is a profoundly original story about migration, queerness, and the impossible labor of being known by the person who raised you.