A gaudily coloured twisty slide takes us into emotional shallows. A squeaky voice complains about its inadequacies. It belongs to an animated figure which serves as a catch bowl for a soul that’s not doing well. Its creator has pieced it together, but something holistic does not pop out of the demiurgic mush. Tulapop Saenjaroen uncovers the beginnings of Thai animation and takes a critical look at the future promise of media placebos.

Saint Petersburg as the cradle of the 1917 October Revolution, Moscow as the birthplace of the Soviet Union in 1922: According to Lenin’s dictum “Communism is Soviet power plus the electrification of the whole country,” the mastery of the forces of nature and the exploitation of natural resources are demonstrated in impressive images – emphasising the independence and fraternity of all Soviet Republics.

Overpaintings and scratchings in scenes from the Russian science fiction film “Silver Heads” by Yevgeniy Yufit. Considering that this work is already an outrageous deconstruction of the old Soviet pathos of the inevitable victory of scientific and technical progress, “Stakes” must be regarded as its drug-fuelled exaggeration into the unsurpassable.

The opening scene shows the anger: It’s about rape. The observing documentary by Aïssata Ouarma is more composed, though, focused on dealing with the trauma and the attempts to come to terms with it through art. The heavily pregnant Mariam attends a theatre education workshop. The camera follows her and her empathetic trainer in moments of mental and physical exertion designed to free her soul – and that of her unborn child – for good.

Coupledom has its own dynamics. Her professional obligations do not tick by the clock, his cooking and love are extraordinary, but, alas, precisely timed. This all too familiar incompatibility is condensed into murky, acrid roast fumes and ends civilized, but bloody. Špela Čadež gradually slows down the pace, creating a space for the absurd goings-on to penetrate deeper and deeper. Black humour, “well done”.

Coupledom has its own dynamics. Her professional obligations do not tick by the clock, his cooking and love are extraordinary, but, alas, precisely timed. This all too familiar incompatibility is condensed into murky, acrid roast fumes. What was intended as a pleasant evening for two ends civilized, but bloody: black humour, “well done”.

Lu and Wei live in a village in rural China. The young girls often go to the nearby river to play or fish with their fathers. The river has a special meaning for them because China’s one-child policy has led to some parents drowning their newborn daughters there. A poetic and touching animation in which Weijia Ma explores the consequences of this tragic chapter in the lives of many Chinese families.

An ingeniously sketched chamber play about the nerve-racking hour before dinner: mother peels vegetables while father is trying to convince their little daughter to take a bath. The protagonists are pretty caricatures of their respective natures, even more so of the roles imposed upon them. An ordinary family – bound together for little good and much evil.

A kitchen table with several objects on it stands still. But time provides movement. A candle burns down rapidly, a photo draped on the table comes to life. It shows a young woman making a cup of tea. Old hands approach the table to touch the letter lying there. Life on the photo stands still.

The film opens with the image of an elderly individual in a hospital, hooked to a machine: assistance is needed to slowly breathe in and out. This existential moment of physical precariousness is followed by Nikolaus Geyrhalter’s typical long shots, though in this case they do not document work processes but look like a prequel to his fantastic science fiction documentary “Homo Sapiens” (2016): deserted airports, swimming pools, playgrounds.

The filmmaker sets out with his identifiable aesthetic tools to tackle the documentation of the first three waves of the Covid-19 pandemic, from March 2020 to December 2021. In Vienna, a major city with a relatively well-functioning health system, he looks at institutions that are in a “flexible learning mode”: intensive care units, emergency shelters, schools, cinemas. Time and again he visits a flower shop that is not system-relevant but, by its own definition, sells food. Lockdown followed by eased restrictions followed by lockdown. The camera registers how paralysis in the face of a natural disaster is superseded in some people by anger at the restrictions. Meanwhile, cases of Long Covid are being treated in the hospitals. Topical, only a little later, these images cut across the repression of what has been experienced.

Asude lives in Lower Bavaria. Her grandparents came to Germany from Turkey in the 1970s. She’s currently studying for her school-leaving examinations and, at the same time, training for her dream of becoming a kickboxing champion. Unreservedly supported by her sisters, Asude competes in the European Championship in Skopje. It is her first fight in the jersey of the German national team.

The gym locker room is an unavoidable chapter in the life of teenagers and the epitome of awkward moments. Happy the person who has a relaxed relationship with their body. Teresia Fant’s documentary gives the floor to those who are forced to enter this place every week and ask themselves: Shower today, or can I do without?

Watching his collection of cine films, a Soviet citizen and cineaste in Latvian Riga remembers his time as a soldier in the GDR. At the time, mutual military support within the Warsaw Pact guaranteed the defensive capabilities against attempted attacks from the imperialist west – always taking into account the lessons learned in World War Two.

The musical piece “Stripsody” for solo voice was created in a collaboration between mezzo-soprano Cathy Berberian and comic book author and illustrator Roberto Zamarin. The score unites onomatopoetic elements, cartoon language and action sequences. Berberian’s magnificent voice takes up the dynamics of the images, swinging on a liana: past the “achoo” to the “boinnnggg”.