João Miller Guerra

João Miller Guerra’s work? Wildly underrated, if you ask me. The guy’s got a knack for digging into the weird, messy bits of life and spinning them into something you actually want to watch. Let’s talk Djon Africa, for starters—this film’s not your run-of-the-mill coming-of-age thing. It’s about this Portuguese guy, Miguel, who’s got Cape Verdean roots and a whole bunch of questions about who he really is. So, he just packs up and heads to Cape Verde, chasing shadows and rumors about a father he’s never met. But it’s not all dramatic stares into the distance—there’s this offbeat, almost playful vibe, with Miguel stumbling through culture shocks, awkward family run-ins, and a whole lot of wandering. You feel the confusion, the hope, the “what the hell am I doing here?” energy. Nada Fazi is a way smaller movie but, honestly, it’s a gem if you like digging for lesser-known stuff. Guerra captures everyday moments—tiny victories, weird conversations, those little beats that make life feel real. It’s kind of like eavesdropping on someone else’s bizarre but oddly relatable day. Now, Légua? This one’s heavy. Set in a crumbling old house in rural Portugal, it’s all about the people who stay behind while the world moves on. There’s this sense of nostalgia and loss, but also stubbornness and love, like people refusing to let go even as everything changes around them. Guerra’s films don’t spoon-feed you answers. He just lays it all out, sometimes raw, sometimes oddly funny, and lets you sit with it. That’s a vibe I can get behind.