Poznań, June 1956: For a long time, the “forgotten uprising” in which dozens of people lost their lives was a taboo in Poland. It was only in the mid-1980s, in a period of liberalisation, that Marek Drążewski could make this astonishingly frank review, in which he condenses the dramatic events using private photos, footage and memories of contemporary witnesses.

Imagine the last day of your life has dawned. What will stand up to review? What brings contentment? What brings regrets? “Vika!” is a film about the value of life and self-discovery, inspiring us to reflect on one’s chosen path and its forks and to stay true to oneself.

Vika, the 84-year-old main protagonist, a mother and grandmother several times over, looks back on a difficult childhood and many years of working in a “proper” job. When she retired, she seized the opportunity to reinvent herself. She became a DJ and star of the Warsaw nightclubs, who regularly drives her young audience wild. Super cool? Inappropriate for an elderly lady? Agnieszka Zwiefka’s portrait deconstructs the borders between the “acceptable” and “unacceptable” roles of a woman who refuses to acknowledge her age. Vika wants to live in the moment, with no ties to the past. Zwiefka combines elements of music and narrative documentary films and creates an enchanting, immediately accessible and utopian world. Dancing to Vika’s rhythms means freeing yourself from the limitations dictated by society, age and sometimes even one’s own children.

The letters Halina receives from Farouk in the late 1970s are as haunting as they are hopeful. They have a long journey between them: from Iraq to Poland. But at some point the contact breaks off, and the reasons remain a secret. Their son Adam manages to build a bridge. And the latter’s son, Ignacy, tells the story from his perspective. It’s a delicate visual treatment behind which complicated fates are hidden.

Ten years after the bloody suppression of the workers’ uprisings, the dead are commemorated in front of the Gdańsk shipyard in 1980. The memorial service conceived by Andrzej Wajda could only be documented after sustained pressure. The resulting montage, which links images of the event with emotional reports by contemporary witnesses, was never supposed to be.

Going under or a lonely island life – there is not exactly a surfeit of options in this Polish village by the sea. The community functions, but social intercourse is rough, alcohol present. Archaic-seeming rituals and social patterns are handed down from the old to the young men. Winter envelops the village in white silence which every now and then betrays its deceptive appearance in small things. At midnight on Christmas Eve the voices of the dead and tortured souls ring out. Anka lives in the middle of this. The young woman takes hits, gets up, struggles through with her love of Jesus.

“Zima” portrays a state of suspension with occasional rollercoaster rides and builds up to tremendous emotional power. Colours are rare in the black and white drawings of the winter landscape and the dark houses, but when they appear, they lend great intensity to the events. Scenes of daily routines and village life are associatively interwoven both on the sound and graphic level. They burst with excess and expressive design, transforming into mystical dream images.