work

The director, a young man in his thirties going through a life crisis, approaches his estranged parents to help him paint his apartment. Conversations accompanied by a paint roller and paint thinner open up old wrongs while revealing the complexity of interpersonal relationships. The absence of communication, or the lack of will to communicate, as a symptom of contemporary family ties, stands in contrast to caring for a family of pigeons that has made its nest on the director's balcony. The film, in its civility and authenticity, follows the lessons of a book dedicated to amateur filmmakers and thus enters into a subversive dialogue with the paradigms of film pedagogy. How can we live today, how can we create?“A family portrait of a diary-like, commemorative nature is a very good lesson for a beginner.” Source: Camera tortura and the book KUČERA, Jan: Filmová tvorba amatéra

Static shots, mostly long and extreme long shots, and not much seems to happen in them. As if someone often turned the camera on only after the important thing had already been done – in moments when cleaning crews and almost always invisible women with dusters, mops and buckets arrive. When is it necessary to prepare everything for the next round of operation and use under conditions that we have come to perceive as healthy. The minimalist observational documentary lets us glimpse the different forms of how human culture gets rid of dirt and other deposits. Starting with hand washing in healthcare, through various manifestations of mental hygiene and sacred rituals, to cleaning in Holocaust memorials, it is always the same cyclical process. It is the necessity and self-evident nature of the actions accompanying purification that make them a social force of fundamental importance. Above the associative sequence of slow images of cleaned places and washed people, we can reflect on the symbolic and pragmatic meanings of everyday rituals, without which our civilization would collapse.“In my opinion, the current effort is mainly to achieve efficiency and productivity in the neoliberal sense of the word. After that, however, any colour and variety disappears.”Quote source: International Film Festival Bratislava

Jan Merta (1952) is currently one of the most important Czech visual artists. In his painting work, shaped by the postmodernism of the 1980s, he leans towards abstract abbreviation and symbolic depiction of reality through everyday objects. The film is a snapshot of his life filled with painting, working in his garden and cohabitation with his partner. The civilian camera follows Merta as he prepares an exhibition for which he attempts to create new works. However, his engagement with the current geopolitical situation enters into the work, as well as the discovery of new compositional principles and creative otherworldliness that co-create his enchanted personal world. “Is this art, or can I throw it away?”

A short poetic essay depicting a young girl, Faustine, explores the relationship between the director and the protagonist and how the film camera, as a silent, omnipresent mediator, defines it. With a certain amount of self-reflection, the film understands documentary film as a medium that has a dominant power over the subjects it captures by locking their souls and likenesses forever into the cinematic image.“The act of looking becomes tangible through technology, superstitions and phantasmic vision. A film, it states, is a space that takes a real-life person hostage, engulfs, and seals them in forever.”

Hard work, insecure earnings and a whole family in debt. These are the circumstances faced by gem prospectors in the abandoned mines of Myanmar. After mining was banned, the local population has been drawn to them, hand-picking through thousands of stones, eager to find the right one – and the better life it will bring.“Sometimes no matter how much you dig, you don’t find a thing. But one good gemstone can make you rich.”

The final stops of buses, trams and trolleybuses in the suburbs of Riga. “Non-places” with no specific character, where nothing special happens and yet there is no stopping movement. Some people go from here to work or school, others return home. Or they work in their flower and vegetable stalls near the bus stops. Morning, evening, in snow and rain. Weekdays and holidays. Laila Pakalniņa captures their work, waiting and passing, calm and impatient, in tight moving shots. Gints Bērziņš's black and white camera stays at one point, describing a circle that begins and ends nowhere. Ordinary stopping points, which we use without thinking about their function, become important crossroads in a wordless urban symphony, to whose unchanging rhythm the entire metropolis must submit. Exploring the poetry in everyday routine and repetition, the film completes the director's ornamental trilogy on public transport, complemented by The Bus (2004) and Homes (2021).“The ever-moving camera creates the form of the film, peering through the window of a bus, trolleybus, or tram, observing the world.”Quote source: Riga International Film Festival

According to recent findings in astrophysics, the universe is structured as a four-dimensional web-like network. Yet similar structures are created by organisms many times smaller – known as slime mold. Can the parallel between the realms of biology and physics help us understand the mystery of our changing and intricate reality?“The cosmic web is part of the universe's large-scale structure. It is composed of dark matter, gas, and galaxies.”Source: Astronomy Magazine

An astral comedy that shows how to resurrect one’s love for a husband, find a woman to start a family or reconcile with your father. Just go to Alaska, Greenland or Lebanon, advises Italian astrologer Luciana, who works as a psychotherapist and personal coach in her office. This touchingly real guide to emotional turmoil, human longing and hope is based on the techniques of fiction film. A layered group portrait with a polished character typology portrays a world driven by chance, disguised as mirage, self-delusion or miracle. “I dreamed of making an 'Italian' film full of passionate love, strong emotions, humour and Vespa motorcycles. But there was a catch. I'm not Italian, I don't understand the language and I have a melancholic Hungarian character combined with an ironic sense of humour.” — Peter Kerekes Source: Artcam Films