Augustin Palvanh

Augustin Palvanh’s filmography isn’t exactly the kind you just stumble across without raising an eyebrow. L'auberge Paradis (2025), for example, isn’t just your run-of-the-mill drama. It takes you deep into this weirdly enchanting guesthouse where strangers check in carrying more secrets than luggage. Everyone’s got baggage—literal and emotional. The walls practically hum with old arguments, late-night confessions, and that silent tension you only notice when you’re wide awake at three in the morning. It’s funny, awkward, sometimes a little heartbreaking, always genuine. Then there’s The Balconettes (2024). Oh man, that one’s got energy. Imagine a group of friends who spend way too much time on their apartment balconies, watching life roll by and tossing opinions back and forth like a game of emotional dodgeball. Relationships get messy, ambitions unravel, and personal truths pop up at the worst possible moments. It’s sharp, witty, and doesn’t mind poking fun at itself every now and then. Le temps retrouvé (2025) feels like a palate cleanser—a sort of bittersweet meditation on memory and time. You can feel the nostalgia seeping out of every frame, as if the film itself is homesick for something it can’t name. Palvanh’s style? He never spells everything out. He trusts the audience to catch the hints and read between the lines, which honestly, is refreshing. There’s this understated charm in his work, a kind of offbeat honesty you don’t see every day.