Kwinten is proud of his Dad who is the commander of a naval ship. But a new mission takes his Dad to sea again for three months. Kwinten waits for postcards and counts the days. His best friend now lives in another town, but fortunately comes to visit. Coping with missing his father isn’t easy for Kwinten. Seeing him again is all the more wonderful, though.

Somewhere on an ocean the crew of a fish trawler go about their work day and night. Every step must be perfect, every movement automatically leads to the next. Heavy chains have to be secured, nets reeled in, fish swiftly gutted and packed with ice into large boxes. A cigarette is always dangling from the lips and hopefully there’s always something left in the jar of chocolate cream. The camera moves in the same rolling beat as the ship in the waves.

In the summer of 2000 Ugandan and Rwandan troops fought a devastating battle in Kisangani. The International Court of Justice sentenced Uganda to pay one billion U.S. dollars to the civilian victims. After almost twenty years of waiting in vain, some of them set out for Kinshasa to enforce their legal claim. The physical and theatrical power of their mission both drives and radiates from this film.

Dieudo Hamadi has given the women and men he is about to follow down the Congo a visually confident and assured exposition. Gathered on an inky black stage, they look at us and sing: of blood spilled, of money forgotten. Then the march of the maimed sets itself in motion, on crutches, with prostheses, past the nearby pits of the dead and out into the country. Every metre covered is an act of rebellion. When the procession of beggars, who rightly won’t tolerate this designation, finally climbs the stairs of the National Parliament, iconic scenes of Soviet revolutionary cinema seem to shine through. But the crowd that is moving here is different. Its individual bodies push back with all their weight both against the casual shrug of the shoulders of political routine and the carelessly rounded calculations of loss and equivalent value of the arithmetic of war.

Femicides are daily in Mexico. We follow Maremoto in her fight against sexism, fear and anxiety. She is an illustrator and visual creator, but first and foremost a sensible artist. This VR experience is inspired by her art, her search for identity, her self-empowerment, her way of making herself and others aware of their own bodies and of finding allies in the struggle for change.

She and him, naked on the holiday seas in the bright sun. It may sound idyllic, but it is hell for Aurora and Jeremy. In search of funny dolphins, the two are paddling without orientation in the limitless expanse of water, no land in sight. Complete with dangers from above and below in the shape of heat and sharks. And at the centre of events is a near-defunct relationship. The roles are well-practised and grating, uptight lust is satisfied only solo.

Instead of roaring waves, it is above all the relentless silence of the sea surrounding them that provides the tension of the film. It is occasionally released in brilliant miniatures, for example a witty argument, or clumsy physical comedy. Another time, we are shocked by action-filled horror moments triggering absurd chain reactions. Whether it is the glaring light on the brutally calm water and the clueless couple, the visual fumes of decay one can almost smell, or a super dynamic dive – Levi Stoops’ direction is magnificent and timed with utmost precision.