A ghost ride through Finnish TV archives of the 1960s grazes the moon landing, American TV shows, a war in Africa. But how to connect with the world when dancing is forbidden?!
The anonymous narrator is a kind of web-adventurous flâneuse, neurotic and endlessly curious. A disturbance in the proprioception, which is the ability to sense the position, movement and location of the body and its parts, makes her perceive the world in a new way. Seemingly random anecdotes found on the internet and instructions from her cryptic physiotherapist start to come together in surprising ways. The found material forms a mosaic that reflects a world full of gazes, rules and technologies that separate us. Lines from the present and the distant past take our narrator to the 1960s, where medieval dance bans, televised wars, lost bones, space utopias and American TV stars collide. This film reflects how we can be and live in the world within ourselves and with each other. With those who are near and with those who are far. Along with all this, the film recommends dancing to everyone.
In Blind Date 2.0, Paul once again receives the filmmaker at his home – this time in order to shoot a sex date. Far from the spectacularly pornographic, but also from amateur porn, there is room to first of all clarify preferences, and consensus is established. Since both men are rather on the passive side and the double dildo fails to win over the visitor, they agree on a blowjob and find a practicable middle ground in mutual masturbation. Blind Date 2.0 does not aim at producing arousal but constitutes a doubly empathetic approach – that of the filmmaker to his protagonist, and that of the protagonist to his rather monosyllabic visitor. In targeted, unspectacular framing, the film captures the sex-positive in the ordinary, in the non-standardised, and above all in the context of social interaction: comprehensible, moving, and with a memorable cigarette afterwards.
A trip to the beach expands to a family observation over two generations. This captivating minimalist stretching exercise does not need much: black and white and the deep blue of the sea.
Blue is a story in which time stretches. A mother and a daughter are trying to find their place after the father leaves. They spend time idly on a metaphorical empty beach. They fight their uncertainty and longing. The image of the sea comes back rhythmically. It is a promise of freedom but also a scary different world, far from the warm sand.
The operators of the Emergency Call Center 112 take care of and connect with various outside situations whilst setting boundaries and dealing with their own emotions.
The Emergency Call Centre 112 receives numerous phone calls every day. The operators take care of and connect with various situations outside as well as within the office, whilst setting boundaries and dealing with their own emotions.
After leaving prison, Mariusz and his son attempt to adapt to reality, interweaving the habits of jail with the struggle of everyday life. Contrary to popular opinion, their relationship is filled with reflection and love. The protagonists' sensitivity contrasts with the heartless reality that leaves a scar on former prisoners excluding them from being valuable members of society.
A storm of queer norm-busting archive images. The creative arrangement is as sensual as the material, including purple colour explosions and a jazz music leitmotif.
Between birth and death, is the power to love and live. Political rules, religious orders, social norms and cultural taboos control who we love and how we love. The right to love is controlled and regulated by how we live. But the erotic has the power to emancipate. With spoken word and archive sources, love is unboxed from categories in queer expression and a celebration of eros as the power to change our attitudes to life and to allow others to live their lives without judgment or prejudice.
A touching, warm and painfully accurate portrait of a person with a mental disability. We observe the protagonist during her classes and therapies, we learn about her family situation, and we get to know what she dreams of and what she does in her everyday life. Animation brings Ewa's drawings to life and helps us to see the world through her eyes. We may not be able to fully understand her but thanks to Marcin Lesisz's film, we may at least get closer to her. We may realise what kind of problems she faces and notice the person, not the illness; the person who has the right to be who she wants to be.
A religious statue comes alive and unites with a boneless girl. They leave the village together with many other figures that have stepped down from the altars.
One day, all the statues in the area come to life. They leave the roadside shrines and pedestals and calmly set off straight ahead, all in the same direction. They do not even stop for a moment. People watch the phenomenon with growing anxiety. None of them knows where they are going and why. Only a little girl with a boneless body marvels at the procession of the unusual figures with pure fascination. They walk without muscles, although they should not be able to walk. How strange!
Weightless tells the story of Max' self-realisation in an environment not yet ready for it. What feels like an intimate conversation, reveals a lot about our society.
The essayistic documentary Weightless circles around the topics of identity, mental struggle and self-realisation. It does so through an intimate conversation with the protagonist, Max, about his rather complicated growing up. But Max himself is never shown in the images, which creates a special audio-visual language and unique dynamics of the spoken. The images of significant places charge the spoken with wider meaning and ambivalence.
In Jirkuff's animation, based on a story by Ilse Aichinger (1921–2016), the parts of a house develop a life of their own. Along with the handrail and the wallpaper, even the white drawing surfaces are affected: Jirkuff's charcoal strokes and the coal dust from Aichinger's text colour them grey (after all, coal is stored in the cellar where the narrating voice ultimately ends up). Here, as previously in Vermessung der Distanz (2019), Susi Jirkuff's interest is not only in the spatiality of the building but also in the (non-) behaviour of fellow humans. No one asks: “Didn't you live next door to us just yesterday?”
The story appeared in 1955 in Stillere Heimat, the literary yearbook of the city of Linz. Aichinger had survived the era of national socialist terror in an apartment near the Vienna Gestapo headquarters. The yearned end of the war did not promise liberation – the same people were sitting in the offices; they talked the same and acted the same. The housing office told the severely depleted family whose close family members had been murdered, a sister and an aunt able to flee to England: “Sleep in hammocks.” Who really cared about such matters back then? And who's really concerned about the living situation of endangered people nowadays? (Andreas Dittrich)
A Polish fishing village in deceptive winter silence … This expressively designed everyday mosaic of a village community talks of Anka, Jesus, warmth of heart and coldness of feeling.
It grows slowly as an icicle, but one day, it drops and crashes. Anka loves cats. And Jesus. In a winter silence, the lagoon freezes and the unspoken resurfaces like a crack in the ice. A mosaic portrait of a small fisherman's village where human to human, human to animal, animal to animal interdepend on a delicate balance of warm tender care and cold emotional cruelty. An eerie story of loneliness and community narrated with magical realism.
DOK Industry is realised with the support of Creative Europe MEDIA Programme of the European Union, the Mitteldeutsche Medienförderung (MDM) and the Federal Government Commissioner for Culture and the Media upon a Decision of the German Bundestag.