A record — whether a photograph, a film, or a sound — always promises a return that never fully materializes. The recorder captures a moment, but above all it captures its fragility, its transience, its ghost.

Three friends gather around a recorder to record themselves. The gesture immediately proves difficult, like trying to repeat a pose that only appears naturally. But repetition, the cycle of trial and error, beyond the promise of return, also contains the potential for the unexpected.

In RECORDER three different directors offer three distinct approaches to a single text, giving it multiple forms through movement, cinema, and theatre, and calling these languages together into a reflection on memory and imagination.