In the last scene of the film, our heroine races into the stairwell. The final conflict looms, and she has two options. She chooses the roof. Why? The rooftop represents her last refuge, her only hope of escape. And because rooftops are inherently cinematic. Follow her to the roof and you might find a garden or tarpaper, a pool or a watertower, a skyscraper party with river views or one man alone climbing through a hatchway in the shortest building around -- but you'll find that life is different on the roof. In a flash you can see distances and details -- look at how the church steeples line up with the towers. Who knew there was an abandoned playground on top of that temple? You're out in the open, but you're hidden from life beneath you, on the ground and inside the buildings. You can hop from house to house for miles maybe, and spy on the world below. You become a voyeur, a catburglar, a superhero, a suicide case, the pursued victim in a horror film. Up here, life becomes a movie. So what kind of films do you screen on a rooftop? We screen films which seek out a new perspective. Films which find that one last secret in the final confrontation between the hero and the villain. Short films, which exalt in the single moment, the revelation, yet explore that moment ferociously, as vertigo sets in. We support filmmakers who claw their way to the roof and force themselves to the ledge so they can show us something new, something beautiful, something true about the world around us which we always knew was there but have never been able to see. Fiction, documentary, experimental, we screen films that you could only watch here. This is the sixth year of this festival, but cinema has always been on the rooftop. home>>