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.
A ghostly search for traces, based on the 1965 U.S. embargo against “communist” real hair wigs from Asia. Is every wig inhabited by a ghost from the imperial past?
This film is about the haunting memories of Asia’s late-20th-century modernisation. The story departs from a 1965 United States embargo on the hair trade, known as the “Communist Hair Ban”. In every wig resides a ghost from the imperial past.
A journey through places and times that shaped the life of Turkish writer and human rights activist Aslı Erdoğan. She writes against silence, especially in exile.
Shattered photos, excerpts from newspapers and pieces of words become voices that spread through the alleys of a city until they reach the house of a writer, who’s writing a page. These fragmented voices tell the story of Aslı Erdogan, a Turkish author forced to live in exile in Europe after being imprisoned for her political ideas.
The voices narrate her life, from her childhood in Istanbul and her feminist commitment to the years as a researcher in Switzerland, the fugue to Brazil before returning to Istanbul, the heart of her lost country. Footage of travel and migration in search of work, images from physics laboratories, videos of protests against the authorities in Istanbul: these materials get mixed in a visual and sound flow becoming the essence of our collective memory, shared by every discriminated person, among them Aslı Erdogan during her exile. Meanwhile, the process of writing has erupted: the page contains words.
The most profound memories are sometimes the most deceptive. That’s what Brett Allen Smith finds out as he keeps replaying the funeral of the family dogs. A baffling confrontation.
Recasting his newborn son and dog as himself and his childhood pets, a filmmaker confronts his own false memories through a collage of film, digital and video game footage.
In heated, often hostile debates about homosexuality, trans and sex work, a young Armenian family tries to assert some kind of queer normality for themselves and others.
Carabina, a gay artist, transvestite, and ex-sex worker, is married to Hasmik, a heterosexual lawyer. They have just become parents and are facing a dilemma: Should they raise their child in Armenia, where 93% of the population is against homosexuality?
A young woman breaks up an ugly plywood wardrobe that reminds her of an act of violence in her past. An artefact of pain is destroyed – a powerful gesture.
Attempting to purge a bad memory, Joana decides to return to the place where she suffered an act of violence in 2013 to free herself of the last trigger that binds her to this incident from the past – a wardrobe. In this self-portrait, the director appropriates the essayist traits of the documentary as a process to deal with inner ghosts. Through a ritual established by a recollection of facts, she confronts her own expectations facing the charges she endures as a woman.
A construction site in the Central African Republic, two career dreams: The double portrait of a native day labourer and a Chinese construction manager becomes a parable of globalisation.
Luan, a Chinese immigrant, is in Bangui, Central African Republic, facing his greatest professional challenge to date: he must oversee the construction of a bank headquarters that is expected to be inaugurated soon by the President of the nation himself. At the opposite end of the same labour chain, Thomas, a local, must dive into the river to get the sand that Luan needs for his building. Both share the same goal: to progress in their careers and give their families a better life. Meanwhile, the erratic and difficult lives of their families manifest themselves at a distance in various ways. Luan receives phone calls from his wife who, living thousands of kilometres away, is feeling abandoned and attempts to commit suicide; while Thomas' wife and girlfriend have both abandoned him, leaving him in charge of all his children. Eat Bitter fluidly and honestly articulates the daily life of both men, revealing the traces of the presence of the large Chinese community in the region, as well as the scars of a country devastated by the experience of a long civil war and poverty for which no one seems to have any answers.
From their lookout towers, female fire wardens scan Portuguese landscapes for wildfires. An allegorically condensed, wordless study of vigilance and vision.
Looking at the tree line, a question creeps into my mind and, simultaneously, I have a desire.
What if nothing existed?
Extended Presences follows several women in their seasonal work as fire watchers in Portugal. The film comes close to their breathing, to the passing of time and to solitude, from within.
A group of friends leave Moscow after the Russian attack on Ukraine. They find a temporary exile on a Turkish island. Intelligent reflections on home and belonging.
After the beginning of the war in Ukraine, a group of friends decide to leave Russia and settle on an island in the Marmara sea near Istanbul. The film, starting at this point as a kind of travelogue, gradually evolves into a meditation on home and exile.
In a melancholy dialogue with her boyfriend and people she met by chance, the director tries to fathom the secret of love. A wistful and poetical journey to the Caspian Sea.
A filmmaker is searching for a place where she and her boyfriend first went on a date. On this little trip, she meets random people and asks them about love, memories, and the meaning of life. Meanwhile, the pollution of the Caspian Sea pulls her search for answers towards her inner questions about memories, feelings, and happiness.
The 1994 genocide in Rwanda has traumatised generations. The children of the time lack memories, their parents are struggling to speak about it to this day. In this film they break the silence.
They were children at the time of the Tutsi genocide in Rwanda in 1994. They are now in their thirties and struggling with childhood memories of desolation and violence. To carry the weight of the past and think of a future, we must be able to talk freely. Kumva is about the need to build one's own memory in order to give flesh to the dead and to build a bridge between the past and the present.
How do you restitute self-images? A lucid, thought-provoking essay about the Congo, the far-reaching dimensions of colonial power and the (re-)privatisation of identity.
The film Lumène is based on in-depth research into photographic archives taken in the heart of the Belgian Congo between 1938 and 1939 by the German ethnographer and anthropologist Hans Himmelheber. These archives are kept at the Rietberg Museum in Zurich.
In this first part, Lumène: Privatisation, director David Shongo, in collaboration with the traditional chiefs of Lusanga, Mukedi and Feshi, analyses how photography was used as a tool of colonial domination and how it contributed to a process of privatisation of the imaginary, images, cultural heritage and spaces. These analyses raise current issues such as restitution, reparation and the domination of knowledge.
An intimate conversation between father and daughter about a fermenting family secret amidst experimental image and sound recordings of work on a winery in southwest France.
Within a dialogue through different stages, a woman evokes with her father, a historian and a stranger, events that she didn't live through and that somehow, she seems to have gone through.
Twenty years ago, the filmmaker fled from Bagdad with his family – why has always been a taboo. For his son, he breaks his silence in this filmic family therapy.
Twenty years ago, filmmaker Wiam Al-Zabari and his family fled Baghdad in the middle of the night. His father was waiting for them in the Netherlands. Since then, no one in the family has spoken about it. Now that Wiam is a father himself, he is confronted with his past life in Iraq. This raises questions. Why did they have to flee in the first place? And what are the repercussions of the escape from Iraq and their arrival in the Netherlands? To find out, Wiam breaks the silence for the first time and starts talking to his family. Can he let go of the past to embrace a future in the Netherlands?
The director, a stateless Filipino, returns to his native country. For more than twenty years, he lived without papers in the USA and feels trapped in a world full of borders.
A poetic essay film through the lens of an undocumented immigrant becoming disillusioned by their future in the United States and deciding to return to an estranged homeland. Nowhere Near tracks down the origin of a family curse backtracking through the post 9/11 era, the US occupation of the Philippines and the spiritual conquest of the Spanish empire. The film is a years-long diary towards understanding the causes of migration to the United States, though ultimately this odyssey deviates far from the expected course.
Suzanne, 91 years old, lives alone in the Vosges in a house without water or electricity, where she enjoys the little pleasures of life. A laconic and humorous portrait.
“We'll see!” Suzanne takes life as it comes, with calm and serenity. She lives alone on the farm where she was born in 1930, on the edge of a forest in the Hautes-Vosges. The house is not connected to water or electricity. According to the seasons, Suzanne cultivates her vegetable garden, prepares her preserves, reads the press, walks in the mountains, and welcomes passing visitors. She savours all the little pleasures of life while laughing, having fun and embodying this happy sobriety to which her contemporaries aspire.
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.