“It is places like Laikipia that make some Kenyans begin to ask: Are we really independent?” For centuries, this region in the central Kenyan highlands has been a grazing area for the Samburus’ animals. With colonialisation, white people began to settle there, built ranches and farmed cattle. After Kenya’s independence in 1963, they stayed on. So far, relations between them and the locals have been alright, albeit distant. Climate change, however, increases the potential for conflict in the country and intensifies the competition for resources.
Laikipia has been suffering from the effects of global warming for several decades. Long periods of drought destroy the grassland the Samburu and their herds depend on. The white cattle farmers’ ranches and not least the privately managed and strictly guarded nature reserves cut through their traditional migration routes and block off the paths with electric fences. When elections are near, the disputes threaten to escalate. Daphne Matziaraki and Peter Murimi followed Kenyans of all parties over a period of five years and give them a chance to tell their stories in this film.

In the north of Georgia, twelve kilometres from the Russian-influenced region of Abkhazia, a family are realising their dream. Under the optimistic motto “Plant the Future,” the Georgian government has launched a funding programme that enabled the people in this state which has been shaken by wars and crises for years to make a fresh start on their own farmland. With this support Soso, a retired engineer, took the big step in 2021 with his wife and two young sons and began growing blueberries.
Director Elene Mikaberidze and a dynamic camera follow the bold endeavour of the greenhorn farmers as they settle into their unfamiliar new life month by month. In the evenings, they pass the time with games and conversations, while the television is on in the background: images of a Ukraine under attack, news of the escalation in the Middle East remind the adults of the Russo-Georgian War sixteen years ago. Soso, the head of the family, contemplates his homeland in the midst of an escalating global situation. What dreams will still find a place there? Mother Nino is worried about her children’s future. She wants them to have the freedom to go their own way, to travel abroad and leave Georgia behind. Whether these ideas correspond with Soso’s remains to be seen.

Claire Simon’s filmic observation focuses on the institution of school. But instead of a systematic analysis of the objectives and workings of this place of education, her emphasis is on the daily interactions between children and teachers. How are disputes resolved? How do you teach consideration, forbearance, empathy? The film explores these questions calmly and with an unobtrusive camera, using as example the Anton Makarenko primary school in Ivry-sur-Seine, just outside the south-eastern outskirts of Paris.
Parents arrive with their children. The teacher shakes hands with a newcomer – a gesture of encouragement. In class, the instructors seldom raise their voices, authoritarian shouting is out of place here. The staff rely on dialogue instead, which in turn depends on trust and mutual respect. Claire Simon immerses herself in the life of this school and lets the captured moments between children and adults speak for themselves. A sensitive mosaic unfolds: moments of deeply felt learning and teaching bliss, boat trips on the Seine, turmoil in the schoolyard. All these details feed into the vibrant image of a pedagogical mission carried by small and big shoulders.

Dr. Izzeldin Abuelaish has been nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize several times. As a Palestinian gynaecologist practising in an Israeli hospital he was able to pass the strictly guarded checkpoints to Gaza without a hitch. His humanist perspective is expressed in words like these: “Do we need to be sick in order to understand that we are equal?” When the Israeli army attacked Abuelaish’s home in Gaza in January 2009 and three of his daughters died, he picked up the phone. On the other end of the line was Shlomi Eldar, a Channel 10 reporter who decided to broadcast his friend’s despair live to the Israeli audience. A historic television moment; the shelling of Gaza was terminated soon afterwards.
Director Tal Barda has given her portrait the same title as Izzeldin Abuelaish’s book, which was published in 2011. More than ten years after the publication of this memoir, the doctor as well as his now grown-up children speak out in her film, talk about traumas, their new beginning in Toronto and the struggle to obtain an official apology from Israel. “I Shall Not Hate” addresses the complicated ties between the fates of Palestine and Israel. Izzeldin Abuelaish’s conviction that peaceful coexistence is the only chance of survival remains unbroken.

Sanjivani, a young woman from a rural area in the state of Maharashtra in central India, is a loving and tender mother. After her husband’s suicide, she lives with her brother-in-law who makes her work in the fields. She is now solely responsible for her two kids, faced with a mountain of debt left by her husband and the structures of a patriarchal society that incapacitates and renders invisible widows like her. It is only when she joins a group of women who suffered similar fates that she slowly gains some self-confidence. She is not alone with her despair and grief – the suicide rate among peasants who took their lives in the face of crop failures and dumping prices on the globalised market is harrowing: 400,000 in the last twenty years.
Kinshuk Surjan not only observes people and circumstances with compassion; he also stands for a cinema that makes a difference. The women’s group he follows here only came together as a result of his film project. In impressive images and with great empathy for the protagonists he portrays, he not only succeeds in producing a careful representation of highly complex contexts, but also a truly documentary intervention into unacceptable conditions – with the aim of improving them.

There are documentary heroes of such strength and vitality that you fall in love with their charm from the very first moments. As a viewer, you are ready to follow them through fire and water. Naima is exactly such a case – undoubtedly enhanced by the directorial talent and masterful dramatic work of Anna Thommen. Both fire and water will be present.
Naima’s story is the story of a migrant in Europe who has to start her life from scratch when she moves from Venezuela to Switzerland. She used to work in marketing for international companies, but now she ekes out a living with various service jobs. Naima does not give up and fights for the chance to be with her children again. Due to her financial difficulties, the two teenagers live with her ex-husband. When she is given the opportunity to undergo the desired training as a nurse and a preparatory internship in a psychiatric ward, Naima faces significant challenges. Her supervisor dislikes her, which practically leads to the internship not being credited. So there is no shortage of fire and water for our heroine. But Anna Thommen’s portrait is a testament to the human spirit’s ability to endure and even overcome conflagration. It is a must-watch for anyone seeking an inspiring and emotionally touching documentary.

Young people roaming through thickets, bathing under birches in clear lake water, dewdrops glistening in the sunlight, animals scurrying, flying and crawling through the undergrowth. What at first looks like a modern fairy tale film soon lands rather rudely in today’s reality. Finland, the most densely forested European country with its boreal vegetation acts, together with Sweden, as the green lungs of the continent. There is a scientific consensus that preserving forests is one of the most effective measures to counteract climate change and halt the massive extinction of species. Despite this immensely important task, around ninety percent of Finland’s forests are currently threatened by deforestation, partly for the paper industry.
Her love of trees and her equally great anger at their destruction suddenly puts 22-year-old Ida at the forefront of a new environmental movement. Together with many like-minded people she takes on the giants of the Finnish forest industry. At the same time, she realises that her family, too, share the deeply rooted conviction that the forest is “cropland” meant to ensure Finland’s prosperity. One thing is certain: The committed young activists must fight a tough battle against economic interests, the political system and the prejudices of generations.

“Who are you to change anything!?” Yisrael Meir Lau, once Ashkenazi Chief Rabbi of Israel, rages against non-orthodox movements in Judaism. His nephew, queer activist Amichai Lau-Lavie, has an answer that packs a punch: born in 1961 on Israel’s Independence Day, 38 generations of rabbis in his family tree, son of a Holocaust survivor, drag queen, today also an ordained rabbi and spiritual leader of an interdenominational Jewish congregation in New York. Amichai wants to be a “virus inside the system” to break patriarchal traditions and make Judaism more humane, more open. His drag alter ego urges: “Redemption will only come through transgression!”
Director Sandi DuBowski followed his protagonist over more than twenty years. The long production period enabled him to document different phases in Amichai’s life, to show him celebrating, crying, doubting and triumphant. Supporters and critics comment on every decision and life change. The result is a complex portrait that sensitively introduces not only Amichai but also his family and congregation. An inspiring story that gives us hope.

Director Yvann Yagchi, the son of Palestinian migrants, and his Jewish best friend spend a carefree childhood far away from politics on the neutral ground of Switzerland. As adults, both long for religious and ethnic affiliation. Yvann wants to visit Palestine at last and break generations of silence about the fate of his family. His friend moves to a Jewish settlement in the West Bank. Thus begins the story of a failed reunion.
With frankness and patience, Yvann’s film, addressed directly at his former closest confidant, documents his own emotional development: Initial optimism and diplomatic reserve soon give way to an underlying unease. When a Palestinian refugee challenges him to give up the platitudes about striving for truth and formulate his opinion clearly, we realise that there can be only one standpoint for Yvann. There is a rift between the friends, vividly illustrated by animated doodles. Reflections on a lost friendship turn into a search for identity, made immeasurably harder by the ongoing destruction of Palestinian existence.

Luciana’s office is a place of miracles. This is where strangers confide in her, share their most profound desires and concerns. And Luciana? She circles her huge magnifying glass over the pages of old books to soon find the perfect coordinates for a spiritual new beginning. In his new film, Peter Kerekes becomes nothing less than a witness to psychomagical acts. The Neapolitan astrologer is not only able to calculate the perfect birthday spot for those who seek advice – in her blunt way, she aims right at the centre of personal dramas. A pair of identical twins, for example, argue whether one of the sisters should fulfil the other’s longing for a child, while an unhappy mother yearns to rekindle her relationship.
Luciana sends the twins to Beirut, the mother to Alaska. Kerekes accompanies them on their journeys of salvation, even if Alaska turns into an air conditioner and a few buckets of ice cubes for reasons of practicality. He always brings out the comic potential of a story while pointing out complicated conflicts with astonishing poignancy: possessive mother figures and absent fathers, loneliness in a relationship and the fear of change. “Wishing on a Star” is a charming consultation that boldly confronts the big questions in life.