As if in a Kafkaesque nightmare, one day, in her early thirties, Marina’s face suddenly changed. Taking refuge at her parent’s place, Marina delves into the old family photo albums. She analyzes and compares her images and the faces in her family. How do I know if I’m the same as in the pictures? How do I know this face is mine? I don’t look like anybody anymore. Where does this face come from? This extraordinary event embodies the underlying theme of the film: how our face becomes tantamount to our identity and the weight that our image has in defining us and how we relate to others. Marina investigates and thinks. In zoos, there are animals that have an identity and others that do not: bears, tigers, dolphins are identified with signs with their proper names and even biographies, but for all other animals, such as most aquatic species, small reptiles and birds, individual identification is indifferent, even impossible. The jellyfish float in their tanks, all identical to each other, interchangeable, faceless and gaze-less. The Face of the Jellyfish traces a hybrid journey between fiction and documentary, inviting us to ask ourselves: Can there be identity without a face? Can there be a face without an identity? Where does our identity reside? How do we connect with others if there is no face?