My mother was more than just a mother. She was a tree. This confession is the key to the Portuguese director’s essay, which won a FIPRESCI award at the Berlinale. Autobiographical though not completely true (after all, the rules are determined here by postmemory), the story takes viewers on a journey through the lives of three generations; in addition to the actors, Catartina Vasconcelos herself and members of her family also appear in the film. The focal point, however, is a mother-tree figure that provides roots as well as branches that one can leap from in order to fly away. This intergenerational point of connection also reconciles us with nature—with its cycle of birth and death. The aim of this form of poetic archeology is to recall not just the spirit of the deceased mother but also the careful—like brushstrokes—revelations of the universal mechanisms of change that all living things undergo: whether birds, people, trees, houses, or memories. In this film, the archaeologist’s brush is sometimes the painter’s brush, because the subtly composed static shots often bring to mind the works of masters (even still lifes). At the same time, they remind us of the dual nature of cinema, which, in desperately trying to rescue, destroys everything it captures in the frame.