The tumultuous 1960s in China as a collage of archival images, clay figures and interviews. Lei Lei lets his father and his grandfather talk, about bicycles and bank clerks, about life in the countryside, re-education and class enemies. Their memories generate a multicoloured surreal world that is an enchanting fantasy of the time before and during the Cultural Revolution.

In his second feature-length film, artist and animation filmmaker Lei Lei once more takes up experiences of family members and uncovers a piece of national history via private stories. For more than six years, he collected family photos, postcards, propaganda images and old films. On this backdrop he forms and moves his characters made of gum-like pastel modelling clay, whose colourful, almost childlike appearance supports the impression that this is where a grandson imagines the anecdotal memoirs of his ancestors. But this imaginative animation is anything but naïve: It takes the time to accommodate the detours and pauses in the narrative and takes us – by means of a restrained soundscape, too – deep into a universe where one can lose oneself.

Two sisters travel to the realm of clouds on a paper plane. They are looking for the big tree with the golden leaf. Their plane has to be mended again and again, and the big sister is worried. When she falls ill, the little sister takes control. Slowly they get closer to each other and their goal on this arduous journey.

Bizarre animations of strange beauty on a metal plate, set to Free Jazz. Light reflexes. Lines and circles that take on human or insect form, merge and dissolve. Sometimes a voice from offscreen gives directions, demands a new plate. Then everything starts again – but differently. The realization dawns slowly: This is an expedition to an underworld that generates silently communicating ghost lights.

Born blind, the hero of this film turns seven before he begins to see images from the past that soon follow him like a curse. Like the stars in the night sky, what he sees has often long since passed away and gone out. In this tragic masterpiece by the directing duo Kijek/Adamski, the almost tangible pastel-coloured cut-out technique of the present-day narrative contrasts with delicate black and white 2D animations that represent the shadows of what is lost.

With his multiple award-winning animation, Jonatan Schwenk has created a haunting parable about compassion and solidarity. Mute creatures with burning eyes suddenly find themselves confronted with the distress of another species. At first their reaction is hesitant and stoic. But when the other species’ misery begins to disturb their peace of mind, they take action … “Sog” captivates with many creative ideas on the level of animation, succeeding in creating archaic images that look both abstract and realistic. Without a single word, the film makes us experience what a lack of empathy can lead to and that there are always at least two options for action.

A harrowing scenario of bullying based on a short story by Charles Bukowski, whose language is translated authentically into a rough comic book style. A children’s gang teach the neighbour’s boy a lesson. It’s their duty, the self-styled righteous ones tell themselves. What starts out like a game in a framework of dominance and banal irrationality escalates into murderous group dynamics.

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”.

Far removed from the officially propagated GDR cultural sector, Christine Schlegel created her very own energetic cosmos on 8mm stock between 1977 and 1986. She painted over or scratched lines and shapes on footage of the dancer Fine Kwiatkowski. She projected painted footage on the dancing body during live performances, enveloping and re-shaping it.

A young woman attaches acoustic sensors to a tree, hammering nail after nail into the bark. Something stirs in the bowels of the earth, apparently attracted by the sound. This being, whatever it is, starts to search for its origin, gliding through tunnel systems, bizarre subterranean formations. Sometimes you see our world from below, people walking their daily paths. The soil lives! There is still a lot to discover.

Suzie and her parents cycle out to their garden on the outskirts of town on the weekend. This is where Suzie feels at home! Digging, picking flowers, nibbling berries – gorgeous! One day a black dog crosses her path and she discovers a mysterious site. Who could be the owner? Suzie is a little scared, but dares to slip through the fence anyway.

It’s a beautiful summer day and Sven is finally going to take the plunge. He’s at the public pool, at the foot of the ladder leading up to the ten-metre board. Today he is going to jump. Now! Or perhaps some chips as a start? And it would be good to take a shower first. But then he’ll be ready, though …? Oh no, the queue behind him is waiting, there’s no turning back. Sven climbs up the tower.

In the spring of 2022, security guards in Moscow are tense. Under the guise of a film competition on the architecture of the city, Yana Osman and Anton Khamchishkin are permitted, if nothing else, to film the battlements of the Kremlin wall. But how to speak of the attack when you have to say “special military operation”? How to create pictures of resistance when filming any protest is forbidden? By pondering swallows and mathematical catastrophe theory, for example.

One film, two women, three rules: a one-year video correspondence, every three weeks and modelled on experimental female film artists. The two friends Fernanda Pessoa and Chica Barbosa begin their dialogue between São Paulo and Los Angeles in the upheavals of 2020 – in the midst of pandemics, election campaigns and anti-racist protests. In thoughtful, sometimes playful visual essays they also search for feminist cinematographic forms for the female body.

Marie Menken, Yvonne Rainer, Chick Strand, Cheryl Dunye and Ximena Cuevas are only some of the renowned experimental film inspirations for “Swing and Sway”. Sixteen references are listed in the opening credits and the stylistic variety is proportionately wide: black and white and colour, analogue and digital images, text inserts and voiceovers, CGI and stop motion, dissolves, overexposures, colour effects. In this cinephile potpourri, orientation is provided by clips of political events. “I left Brazil under Bolsonaro to come to Trump’s United States”, Barbosa reflects on her status as an immigrant denied political participation. Meanwhile, Pessoa becomes an activist during the São Paulo municipal elections and asks herself a question that other left movements will also ask looking back on 2020: “We didn’t win – but we moved forward?”

Accompanying Liselotte Schließer, who worked full time as a technical draughtswoman, in her private and professional daily life. She talks about the passion that became her second mission in life. The only woman in organised amateur filmmaking for many years and now head of the amateur filmmakers’ association of Radebeul, she still misses female directors and camera people.

A nervously vibrating camera, a rubber duck being beheaded by algebra. In only one minute and with a vengeance, David Lynch lights a beacon against the school-inculcated view of the world. Reading, wRiting, aRithmetic – the three basic cultural techniques “drilled” into us turn out to be childhood traumas and opponents of the immeasurable, the mysterious and the indescribable.

Her “artificial assistant” is what Claudia Larcher calls the AI that digitally analysed her analogue “Baumeister” series of collages and generated this film from them. Creator or servant spirit, the machine makes architectural sketches waft biomorphically and enlivens (i.e. animates) rigid shapes. The Japanese Metabolists who called for the fluid renewal of their buildings, the organic growth, deformation and decay of architecture, would have liked “The Artist in the Machine”.