Liem belongs to the ethnic minority of the Sedang and lives in a remote region of Vietnam. The observing camera succinctly sketches a daily routine that’s marked more by surviving than by living. With his friends, he prepares for an expedition into the jungle, where the young men want to take time out, continue the tradition of their ancestors, become hunters and gatherers. The more twisting their paths, the deeper the film seems to enter into a different sphere.

We get to know Liem doing everyday activities. Carrying the baby in a sling, he cooks, hangs out the laundry, goes to the field. The giant loudspeakers fixed to the streetlights fill his village with official news and advertising. In his stilt house, Liem prefers to listen to Vietnamese pop music. Soon we feel the rhythm, the unique beat of this life. When Liem and his friends set out in rubber sandals and carrying backpacks, the camera follows close behind, takes their perspective. Shot on Super 16, the film captures the green tones of the Vietnamese Central Highlands, the images develop a mesmerizing depth. The rustling of leaves, the buzzing of insects, birdsong and permanent rain come together in a melodious soundscape. Suddenly time seems to stand still, the separation between screen and auditorium is lifted.

Designed as a travelogue about Israel, Herbert Viktor emphasizes similarities to the FRG of the economic miracle years in his film: clean, neat, busy, enterprising. Haifa, for example, is described as having evolved from a “meeting place for Arabic caravans and robber bands” to the most modern port of the Levant. Viktor also pays tribute to the welcoming culture for the persecuted of the world, but omits to elucidate on the fates that lie behind them. The film, spiced up by staged intermezzi to become a statement of sympathy, was released in Federal German cinemas in 1959 under the patronage of Willy Brandt. It was not allowed on Israeli screens before 1962, when the death sentence against Adolf Eichmann had been upheld by the court of appeal.

An app that assigns a sound and a connected graphic element to every letter of the computer keyboard forms the basis of this live improvisation by CFM. The game of patterns and breaks uses different sound-form combinations from Jono Brandel’s kit to create rhythms, loops and music as well as a video to accompany them.

Insects aren’t cute and often not beautiful, but very exciting, Pepe thinks. His favourite animals are dragonflies, which can control their four wings individually and take off faster than a jet plane. But where do you still find these flying wonders? Pepe knows that many insects are dying out in Germany because they are robbed of their habitats. He wants to change that!

Echoes, filters and rhythmic montage turn sound fragments into an audio piece about a seemingly wilful music box. Philippe Arthuys – a film composer for luminaries like Rivette and Godard and a filmmaker himself – varies the tempo from stuttering to quietly breathing, making sound particles emerge suddenly from the depths of space and disappear again. A cinematic mini-drama for the ears.

Why do we see certain colours even when they aren’t there? Chinese director Tang Han meticulously analyses the 100 Yuan bill, which carries a portrait of Mao Zedong, and finds that – despite official representations and general perception – the note is pink rather than red. In a serious tone and colourful, merry images she also casually upsets any number of other entrenched notions about digitalization, globalization, capitalism and gender.

An abandoned amusement park offers a secret real-life retreat for young people in Casablanca. They escape their restrictive society digitally into the Internet to soak up international trends and amplify themselves. A camera floats through the tableaux vivants they have formed. Their eyes are frozen, the self-chosen poses seem undead.