My Memory Walls

There are houses we live in, where we tuck our memories away in drawers, where we close the door on the world. And then there is Rose G. Lévesque’s house. Her brushstrokes have wandered everywhere: every wall, painted by her own hand, holds a memory. Little by little, her home has transformed into an intimate museum of an entire lifetime, open to anyone willing to look.

My Memory Walls could have been a simple portrait. Axel Robin turns it into something else. By letting animation slip into reality, they find a unique way to inhabit Rose’s world. It’s as if the camera, too, were learning to paint.

There is a disarming sincerity here, a visual inventiveness, and a character we leave reluctantly behind. Rose is an artist we listen to, admire, and watch grow old with rare tenderness. There is an almost feverish urgency in her need to paint everything, as if nothing should escape the walls.

The film asks a simple yet immense question: if we did not make our lived experience tangible, what would remain of us? A must-see if you believe that some memories deserve more than a drawer.

Lamia Chraibi
Filmmaker and jury member at the 2025 Émergence Festival