If love were a palindrome, it would be symmetrical, predictable, and perhaps comfortable.
But it is not.

This film cycle delves deeply into the asymmetries of love, the misalignments between two beings, and the different perspectives that emerge in the attempt to understand a relationship. In “The Disappearance of Eleanor Rigby”, director Ned Benson takes us on a daring cinematic journey, divided into two versions: “Him” and “Her”. By exploring the distinct viewpoints of a man and a woman on the same story, the film questions the notions of complementarity and harmony often associated with love.

In the West, we have been shaped by centuries of social and institutional constructions that assigned specific roles to each gender. Men and women have been molded with profoundly different, often irreconcilable, objectives and principles. This civilizational project, which aimed to create a perfect symbiosis between genders, has failed spectacularly. “The Disappearance of Eleanor Rigby: Him + Her” reflect this failure, exposing not only differences in perspective but also the emotional and psychological complexities of each protagonist. Here, love is not a space of complementarity but a territory of divergent interpretations.

This cycle’s proposition goes beyond merely watching films; it’s about pushing film analysis to its limits. For the first time, we present two works as a single artistic gesture, inviting the audience to compare and uncover the nuances of each narrative. The beauty of this experience lies in cinema’s ability to show points of view, placing us simultaneously inside and outside the characters. And it is this duality — visual, anthropological, and philosophical — that makes “The Disappearance of Eleanor Rigby: Him + Her” a singular experience.

This dual approach offers a unique opportunity for reflection. As viewers, we are challenged to confront our own biases, to reevaluate what we take for granted about human relationships. Ned Benson’s films does not provide answers but questions: How can two people live the same story in such distinct ways? What separates us and, at the same time, connects us in the effort to understand one another?

“Love Is Not a Palindrome” invites us to embrace imperfection, to recognize that there is no universal solution to the enigmas of human relationships. It is precisely in this disconnection, in this lack of symmetry, that the beauty of cinema and life resides. This cycle is not just about what we see on the screen but about what we take with us after the projection: a new perception of the other and, perhaps, of ourselves.

(Curatorship of Alexandre Braga)