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.

Leaving home to live in a new country isn’t easy at all. Lyri moves to the Netherlands with her family and talks about her experiences. Given the choice, she would have preferred to stay in Israel. So many things are foreign and different now. What strikes her most, though, is that the children here learn to swim in their street clothes.

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?”

Oh, if only the cat could get up the enthusiasm to do what’s natural for her species, namely, to catch mice! But this cat is good for nothing, just lies around languidly, too lazy to even lift a paw. The clever mouse invests more energy. It’s true she doesn’t show herself, but she manages to make everything revolve around her, even to make human and cat leave the house …

Waiting people in the noise of the city. They begin to move, passing each other. Their portraits overlap, their bodies briefly collapse and for a fleeting moment form abstract time-space shapes. From the repetition and multiplication of the encounters emerges a daily accidental choreography of lifelines in urban space: delicate, intransparent and widely ramified.

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.

Railway slewing cranes by TAKRAF in global use: salvaging derailed trains, assembling bridges, moving goods. The company, now operating again under the name “Kirow” and based in Leipzig-Lindenau, has been able to maintain its standing on the global market until the present day. Constantly improved operating comfort and increased maximum loads represent 100 years of the art of engineering.

“See you next year!” a Portuguese fire warden says as he dismantles his control equipment at the end of the season. Humans and nature in southern Europe may be used to forest fires, but that does not change the facts: The ever more massive conflagrations are caused by climate change. We have long been living in the age of fire.

In the Portuguese interior, a forest fire has just devastated a large area. Wounded nature is silent, not a single bird is heard, only the wind that makes the charred tree trunks rustle. But the vegetation recovers astonishingly fast. Where all life seemed to be gone, greenery soon sprouts from the ruined trees. The residents of the affected region are engaged in the reconstruction with great respect for their natural environment. Because plants, too, are sentient creatures. In quiet, almost melancholic, but also hopeful images, the film pays tribute to the strength of the trees and illustrates how essential it would be for humanity to learn to live in harmony with nature again.

What will future urban environments look like? And how are they designed when they are inspired by the imagination of children? 250 children used their imagination to envision the city of tomorrow. On this basis, the VR experience designs walk-through scenarios. The work is part of an ongoing interdisciplinary collaboration to develop new concepts for changing societies.

Unusually elaborate in terms of cinematography and dramaturgy, the film illustrates the dangers of careless children playing on railway premises. It’s only logical that this leads to a recommendation to make do with the less dangerous model trains. Quite a number of film and television careers began at the “Iskra” pioneer film studio, headed for many years by the lower grade and handicrafts teacher Rolf Kießling.

In 1923, the Dutch erected a radio station on Puntang Mountain on Java deploying indigenous forced labourers. 2,000 metres of wire between two mountain ridges were meant to transmit news from what was then the Dutch East Indies across the 12,000 kilometres to Europe. A speculative and poetic examination of the remains of Radio Malabar – in the earth, in the mountain, in dreams of geoengineering, in local history.

Barcelona, 1991. Juanjo has to repeat the last school year. His new teacher seats him in the last row next to Miquel, who is not exactly happy about this. The two have to write an essay together on the same afternoon. A disagreeable task that is gradually forgotten as they discover that they share a great passion: music!

Juanjo comes from sheltered circumstances, his family pamper him. Miquel is the son of a single mother who could hardly manage to take care of his two siblings without his support. Heavy Metal becomes the refuge and central node of their friendship. Screeching guitars and screamed vocals – with a few remarkable exceptions – are the soundtrack of this exciting but warm-hearted and gentle story that allows a glimpse into the souls of two teenage boys. The film’s visual design is consistently pared down – to the point of leaving out whole sections of the background and character portrayal. The directors’ poignant use of distinctive striking visual elements takes us ingeniously into the world of the two friends. A wonderful journey into a time of changes, insights and growth.

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.

Numerous films deal with the American Civil War, which raged between the northern Union States and the southern Confederate States from 1861 to 1865. One general who rose to become a war icon and the 18th president of the United States was Ulysses S. Grant. Director Jim Finn uses board games to reconstruct the battles and documents a divided nation full of rebellious factions.

“Bloody Pond” or “The Flaming Forest” are the names given to places below the Mason-Dixon Line where many cruel and confusing clashes took place within a few years. Today only cemeteries, memorial plaques, wax museums and obelisks bear witness to episodes of the war that was to be of such vital importance for the shape of the USA today. Jim Finn’s 16mm shots are a detailed inspection of various stations to which he adds macabre anecdotes and trenchant descriptions. Statesmen, ideologists and warlords haunt the forests, ruins and riverbanks here – like the incidences of light which make the footage light up time and again. There is beauty in these images, in the trickling synthesizer melodies, too, or in the stop motion animations of complicated board games. This beauty has little in common with the dark underpinning of this conflict: deep-seated racism and an adamant belief in the right to own slaves.

After Ulysses S. Grant, the victorious commander of the American Civil War, maverick Jim Finn has now tackled the Apostle Paul. Eighteen centuries lie between the two and yet those historical super-figures have a lot in common. The acts of both were epoch-making, both had to undertake prolonged expeditions to achieve them, and both have inspired a host of propaganda, including numerous board games that also serve as a visual framework for Finn’s latest film. Above all, both remain controversial to this day, though Paul’s actions, due to the thin factual basis, provided and still provide better groundwork for substantially more outlandish interpretations. The films quotes some of the more outrageous ones in an eclectic montage of red-tinged excerpts from biblical epics, Christian fundamentalist talk shows, cartoons, children’s books, dioramas, theme parks and performances by magicians and rapturous choirs.

The curious title refers to a paper of the German theologist Ernst Käsemann, whose research snatched Paul from the grasp of the Antisemites who had usurped him and placed him back in the tradition of Jewish mysticism. That is also the objective of Jim Finn’s film as it gleefully dissects two thousand years of appropriation and propaganda in a wild ride through history.