Sable Island, a good 43 kilometres long, less than two kilometres wide, a crescent-shaped sand bank in the Atlantic, about 160 kilometres off the coast of the Canadian province of Nova Scotia. This inhospitable looking place, permanently changed and moved by the weather, has been the home of Zoe Lucas for more than forty years. She once came for a brief visit as an art student, fascinated by the semi-wild horses on the island. She stayed, became an environmental activist, self-taught scientist and esteemed expert on biodiversity. Jacquelyn Mills’ enchanting 16mm images not only convey the enormous richness of the lonely landscapes. They also depict nature conservation as a fulfilling life’s work.

Husna and Charlotte live in a high-rise estate on the outskirts of Antwerp. They live in the same house, play in the same soccer team and spend every free minute together. Where they grow up, it’s not natural to make big plans. But that doesn’t stop these two girls from pursuing their dream to become professional soccer players.

The yellow banana beckons from the fruit basket; it’s peeled in no time and about to disappear in the mouth. But stop! Before you can at last take the first bite, you have to share. The banana becomes smaller and smaller. The elephant, too, wants a piece of the sweet fruit. A piece for you, a piece for me … A little film about the joys of sharing.

A man in socks takes a shower and melts. A claw machine in which nothing can be grabbed is fed coins. A mermaid makes sculptures of feet. A woman packs a banana into a plastic bag, then into another and another and … Figures suffering from the absurd wander through a good dozen laconically drawn momentary miniatures, ceaselessly looking for what can’t be found: meaning. Katarzyna Miechowicz’s animated folly prickles, even existentially.

Institutionalised children in Mestlin, Mecklenburg: With no off commentary to provide context, the young people talk about their worries and problems, about violence and alcohol abuse in their families – a forthrightness inacceptable to the DEFA management. When the rough cut is presented for approval, the production is stopped. The film can only be shown after the fall of the Wall.

A creative and skilful montage as well as dramatically spot-on sound and music effects are combined in a snappy plot to offer a mordant commentary on the constitutionally enshrined equality of men and women in the GDR. The film was awarded a medal at the 1982 congress of UNICA, the Union Internationale du Cinéma, in Aachen.

It’s only after the separation from her husband that another man tells her how valuable she is: the Chladek family, she’s a teacher, he’s a student. The first few years were nothing but quarrels: the Surau family, he’s a plumber, she’s a postal worker. Should she really intend to get further education at evening school, he won’t accept this: the Lehmann family, he’s a locksmith, she’s a lecturer. Three thirtysomething couples live in the Potsdam high-rise behind whose windows Petra Tschörtner looked for her graduation film. Long interviews that pierce the surface at once, equally revealing and oppressive. Promptly awarded a prize at the West German Short Film Festival in Oberhausen.

In works like “Guide Dog Ruepel” (1962), Bärbl Bergmann was the first feature film director in the GDR to portray children in their often pitiless but also honest dealings with each other, something that was almost impossible in the documentary films of that period. But she also managed to sneak lessons on how to pursue educational goals with creative obstinacy into popular science films. Thus her educational piece about two boys who discover that magic, too, requires hard work, despite its rational approach, is far from disenchanting: The protagonists reach their conclusion via detours that take them through mysterious corridors, furtive looks through keyholes and bewitching dreams.

Omid and his family came to France from Iran a while ago. He is often made to feel that he doesn’t really belong. Even his daughter keeps correcting his French. When he’s attacked, the knife pierces his heart. No, he doesn’t have a heart, as it turns out in the hospital … An animated black comedy about what one leaves behind in one’s home country.

When their parents go in search of berries and honey, the little brown bears stay in the meadow with the sheep. They don’t want to go to bed yet, no matter how lovely the lullaby sounds. Romping through the landscape, they get entangled in a ball of yarn, only to fall asleep peacefully in the end … A “cuddly” animated film based on a Latvian lullaby.

The term hysteresis soberly describes a processual behaviour where the previous history affects the result as much as new changes. Robert Seidel enters analogue drawings, performance footage of the queer dancer Tsuki and pluck sounds and drones by Oval into a feedback system that reorganises time and movement in a multicoloured and sensual organic tableau.

An abstract, extremely reduced miniature that manages to express and capture all the more with minimal means. Only a few hand-drawn monochrome strokes, forming and transforming to the rough beat of electronic sound fragments, create a vast space. It is filled with image and sound signals, with successful and failed attempts at communication.

Ayala Shoshana Guy tries to grasp the ephemeral: She interweaves her grandfather Jancsi’s story, remembered only in fragments, who left Vienna with his brother Bandi to escape the Nazi regime, with her own inner images, thus questioning them in a way. A ship to Palestine turns into an all-inclusive cruise liner, the vague becomes concrete only to fade away again. Cautious and bold in equal measure, the granddaughter enters shadowy terrain.

There is a house hanging from heavy ropes, firmly anchored to the rocks. Up there in the cliffs, far above the town below, a father lives with his son in the cold. In his 2D frame-by-frame animation, director João Gonzalez uses few colours, which makes the harsh shadows and extreme camera angles of his drawings all the more atmospheric. He has realised a metaphorical tale that can do without dialogue, relying on sound and images alone.

“Grrr, I’m a tiger!” Vanja and his big sister turn the flat into a jungle. Then Thea gets a visitor. Three can also play hide-and-seek, suggests Vanja. He runs into the courtyard, where there are dark corners, creepy shadows and strange noises. To overcome his fear, he turns himself into the dangerous tiger again – and discovers that even the big ones are scared sometimes.

The interviews conducted by Tamara Trampe in a Pankow kindergarten testify to a rare attempt to enter the world of the young interviewees completely, to give their stories a space where reality and fantasy, worries and wishes can mix freely. A space that’s not always provided in the daily life of the kindergarten, as the film casually suggests even after it was toned down by the DEFA censors: toilets without doors, ghastly birthday parties and friendly but unmistakable reprimands when the children let too much dialect slip into the grammar exercise or when their pictures of soldiers are not realistic enough.