It has been a privilege to make this movie. It was a gift meeting the characters that inhabit it. Seeing the walls that hurt the landscape was a traumatic experience. Living all this next to Migueltxo and Itziar changed me for the better, I think. It is an honour to be part of the team being introduced here, I’m immensely grateful to each and every one.


For quite a long time, shooting with Arena’s team has become a way of life, one in which I feel very comfortable. Walls has been one of those stories that every filmmaker would like to tell. Pablo and the whole team managed to make me need to tell it. I hope it is one of those stories that count for something, or that at least add to an increasingly necessary debate.


Walls exudes life and authenticity, because we let things happen in front of the camera. We are sole, invisible observers, who listen and marvel at everything, but avoid judging, trying to change or setting limits to what is happening. This film talks about limits. About walls that are built for others, but that emerge from the limits within us. The fact that there is a door in my own walls, allows me to deal with projects like this one, to reveal my true self, to understand others, to adapt, to be tolerant, and to count on the confidence of the team and our main characters.


We make movies because we believe they serve a purpose. In this case, the purpose is to open the eyes of the public to a monster, to a wall made out of many other walls that grows every day. And to remind the world that, as Al says, while walking through the desert, it’s always better to build bridges.


Making movies is like playing the txalaparta. It’s a dialogue, it’s a two-person thing. Arena and have created together for a long time. Listening to our txalaparta in the end credits reminds us that we still share the same passion for telling stories with a purpose.


There are as many walls as there are people. Sometimes they are insurmountable and other times permeable. It’s all a matter of putting yourself in the place of the other person, on the other side. Of understanding their pain, their hopes, their fears, their sadness. This movie has invited me to knock down inner walls and to believe that physical separation in the world has an expiration date. Thank you Arena for this overwhelming journey, because I always feel a tailwind by your side.


These months that I spent trying to understand and keep company to the characters from "Walls" reminded me again that I could be them, that there is a sliver of luck between my comfort and their journeys, and that luck changes.


My production work started when the project was just an idea summarised in a sheet of paper. It’s sad to realise that by the end of the film there are more walls in the world than those we identified at the beginning. I hope our work can be useful to draw attention to this issue and to awaken a debate that should be based in human stories like the ones we’ve seen and told.


The premiere of this movie coincides with the birth of my son Urko. I like to think that we are doing what we can to leave him a world where borders stop being walls and become meeting places. I hope my son can travel to the other side of every wall he wants to cross and freely enjoy this beautiful world.


It has been wonderful to discover the inner workings of a movie, and even more so when it is a subject matter that will not leave you indifferent. But above all, it has been a pleasure to be part of this experience with the entire team.


Every little step has been taken with enviable care and respect. It is amazing to see how so many pieces fit now together with such ease.


By coordinating the postproduction of this film, I have known every frame, every sound, and every moment as if I had lived in it. I have felt the emotions of its characters. I have lived the anxiety of those that want to cross to the other side. I hope I helped them in their journey, because, even though they don’t know me, they’re my friends now.


The 18th century was considered the “Age of Enlightenment.” Unfortunately, the 21st century could be the “Age of Walls”. Why is it that there are more and more walls? What kind of a world are we building? This is an essential film that, through its characters, shows the world that life is the same on both sides. And that the world is going in the wrong direction.


It’s always a pleasure to work with Itziar, Migueltxo, Mikel, Nuria, Pablo... Every time they call me I know I’m going to have to work hard, but I also know that I’m going to be very proud to take part in the movie because of its story and how it’s told.


Mohatar is like the birds that fly over the Melilla border fence: they are still the same on the other side. Mohatar is still Mohatar on either side, speaking Spanish, Arabic, French or Sharjah. Thanks to his free, curious spirit, we were able to film things just as they are.


Thank you, Marga. For walking up to where everything was going on in spite of the kilometres and the cactuses. For saving us from being shot. For knowing where to get the best tacos al pastor.


Ismael lives displaced by the most solid, heavy, and overwhelming wall there is. They have taken his home, his land, and his freedom. They haven’t managed to break him, he’s a storyteller whose example we should follow: in Palestine we were guided by an unbeatable filmmaker.


We would like to drive like Divhi. We would like to speak as many languages as he does. We would like to be able to face injustice with the calm, the grace, and the smile that Divhi had every day with us.


Having a generous and great assistant photographer is like becoming a being with more hands and more eyes. Viva Tijuana, brother.


In the midst of chaos, among the porters, in between shoves and shouts, an invisible hand quietly and softly protects the team. And he still has a silent strength to help a porter that can barely carry her parcel. We will never know everything Samir did without us noticing.


– Usman, we will leave a bit earlier tomorrow. – At four? – No, at three. – No problem, my friends. And Usman, smiling after 15 hours as Pablo’s shadow and constant help, disappears in the darkness of the shantytown where he lives. We will cross the border again tomorrow.