Here are a few extraordinary minutes of documentary cinema. A single shot that, far from unraveling the mystery of childhood, confronts us with it, immerses us in it, and brings us back to our own. How far have I drifted from the child I once was—the one who hid nothing, who smiled and cried without restraint, whose emotions transformed his face from one second to the next, so completely absorbed that he forgot his fingers are in his nose? Do I still have that many faces?

Ten Minutes Older leaves you spellbound, or smiling, or with a quiet tear on your cheek. There's no resisting it. It is in the faces of others that we recognize ourselves. The least we can do is try to see ourselves there.

Jérémie Jorrand
Head of Programming and Editorial Content at Tënk France