In her childhood, Maka attended her hated piano lessons in tears. When she asks her mother about it, she is told that this torment is extremely important for discipline. The conversation prompts an examination of whether current pedagogical routine in Georgia has strayed far from such a concept of education. A music school in which brutal emotional and verbal pressure is part of the curriculum; a ballet school where little girls must endure intense pain while stretching; a primary school class where even the most passionate recitation of a patriotic poem about the heroes of the motherland is cause for criticism. We plunge into a somewhat surreal, at times hilariously rigid world, reminiscent of a Palaeolithic dinosaur desperately trying to save itself in the present day.
“Steel is tempered by fire,” says the mother. Her words express the burden of responsibility for her beloved daughter and convey many warm, previously unspoken feelings. “But I am a human being first,” Maka replies. The loving daughter insists that the idea of humanity based on authoritarian power structures must be overcome, because it is still reproduced in the most private relationships, including those between parents and children.

The longing for something to finally happen is fulfilled by a kiss. Not the romantic kind, however, but a monstrous one, a kiss the world will talk about. Thus Dodi plods vigilantly through everyday life and parties, in a cloud of other people’s voices. “EXOMOON” follows her confident path: like a kaleidoscope with creative fractures.

Life is short, extremely short. The time between birth and death seems to fly by. Snip your finger – and it’s all over. The last seconds are just long enough to pronounce the syllable “da”. It is precisely this syllable, spoken with someone’s last dying breath, that is picked up by a man who looks for the shortest of all things in the streets of Tokyo. The syllable whirls through his thoughts, triggering a torrent of reflections on the Japanese language that he gets more and more worked up about. In a dadaist manner, the “da” words hurtle at us like notes in jazz. Bold ink drawings move across the white background, sometimes fluidly, sometimes explosively. A last “da” completes the extemporisation and brings to a standstill all the energetic circling and vibrating that dominated the image before. The dying man closes his eyes. But the end is followed by a new beginning.
“Extremely Short” marks the start of the series “Bungaku Bideo” – literature videos – which, commissioned by the Yanai Initiative, makes innovative accomplices of contemporary Japanese literature and international animation. In this case, Koji Yamamura encounters a piece of prose by Hideo Furukawa, listens to the monologue recited by the author himself and translates his linguistic furor into an exciting visual form.

Found private photo albums: The connections between the pictures remain as abstract as that which the photographs show is concrete. In this film, grandparents, aunts and children do not look out of the past at the viewer in the now but into the mysterious depths of a corridor or the vastness of a bay. Poetic spaces of interpretation open up.

He carries a flag, and that flag is red: In 1968 Holger Meins takes part in this student flag run in West Berlin, in 1970 he joins the RAF and goes into hiding.

East Berlin plays host to the world at the 10th World Youth Festival. The secret capital of the GDR, Leipzig, also gets some reflected glory. On 3 August 1973, festival delegations from forty countries take a special train to the trade fair city. Between the official events there is room for ambiguous side glances, captured in this report of the day made by several Leipzig company and amateur film groups.

Every night, Paulette stands on the lookout of her lighthouse and observes the same shooting star. Her pet rat has mysteriously disappeared, so she sends her wish for a reunion up to the night sky. The apparent celestial body turns out to be a bat with a fondness for glitter. It helps Pauline in her search. A magical, fantastical fairytale with a happy ending.

A music-filled journey towards self-acceptance. In this VR experience we meet Mr. Saul, an aging man who works in a brothel and is hiding a big secret. Through Samba, carnival and a touch of kindness, he learns to embrace himself. “Finally Me” was delicately animated by Marcio Sal, who also contributed his own voice and movement to bring Mr. Saul to life.

Surrounded by high-rises, Natalia has created her own, not-so-small paradise: Goats roam free, shrubs and fruit trees bloom, the chickens busily lay eggs. Natalia meets repeated attempts to buy the plot with brusque derision. Even when the city and country are attacked by Russia in the wintry February of 2022, she retains her apparent carefree resistance: While all the lights around go out at night, there is a warm and cozy glow from Natalia’s house. Only Kitty, with whom she lives, expresses concern, organises his flight from Ukraine and prophylactically shows the spots that would be safest in an air raid.
Adelina Borets’ portrait of an incorruptible woman finds its own unique tone, shows a simple everyday life throughout the seasons that presents itself as self-determined and buoyant despite the worsening situation. Borets adopts Natalia’s manner as natural, gives her space. The dimensions of the war unfold step by step, at Natalia’s own pace and by skilful cuts and pans. “Flowers of Ukraine” is a film about a disaster. But it is also a love song to life – and pickled tomatoes.

In three chapters, this film takes us through the Nigerian megacity of Lagos and explores its fluid side. The tour begins with boatman Osan, constantly moving, balancing on his waterway. In split screens we see the human body as a vessel containing water. Then we are chauffeured through the flowing traffic to the Lagos market and finally perform a water dance above the rooftops of the city. Interspersed are mobile phone videos of a young man on Tarkwa Bay Beach: The waves are good, the sun is shining. May the water bless us!
“Fluid Lagos” was created in three collective workshops conceived and moderated by filmmaker Nora Mandray. Inspired by documentary practices, the participants developed a hybrid film form in which different voices and perspectives combine to talk about water, about a place and its arteries.