A young Swiss woman searches for her Armenian roots. Various lovingly animated drawers of the simultaneously accumulating family archive open. This very personal examination of collective traumas of post-migrant communities finds images and words for racism and the difficulties of talking about feelings with male family members. Its leitmotif is a wardrobe roaming through night-blue landscapes which – despite the cracks – holds everything and everyone together.

A marvellously wild stop motion animadoc trip to unknown worlds, in which 18-year-old astronaut Fatu sets himself a challenge that’s as nerve-racking to him as a lunar expedition. He wants to go shopping at the supermarket – for the first time as he sees himself: in full glam make-up. How will his family with their Kosovar roots react to these new coordinates? Will his self-perception and the others’ perception clash? Set course for star date LGBTQAI+.

Driven by the barking of the voracious rented apartment, an aged ballet dancer makes his way through a permanently rain-drenched wasteland to his monotonous job. The protagonist makes graceful movements to Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake and seems briefly fulfilled. But the audience? Pearls before cows! Priit Tender’s caustic, surreal stop motion animation is a free association inspired by a poem by Andres Ehin about a grueling, gluttonous daily routine that’s gone to the dogs.

Take: three generations of women in Covid lockdown in New York, enough white wine, vodka and time to talk about the really important issues. Dana Reilly makes the best of the pandemic restrictions and films what happens when her mother Janet and 90-year-old grandmother Sylvia decide to move in together. The result is a funny and at the same time lovingly raw tribute to two strong personalities, their not uncomplicated closeness and completely different worlds.

There is a house hanging from heavy ropes, firmly anchored to the rocks. Up there in the cliffs, far above the town below, a father lives with his son in the cold. In his 2D frame-by-frame animation, director João Gonzalez uses few colours, which makes the harsh shadows and extreme camera angles of his drawings all the more atmospheric. He has realised a metaphorical tale that can do without dialogue, relying on sound and images alone.

Planes of all sizes, fun fairs, neon advertising, protesting people, men, women and children having fun, desert-like landscapes, urban views – the shimmering 8mm images develop a peculiar pull. They come from our present day but seem strangely distant, past. It’s the visual diary of I.O, a girl who lives in a future surveillance state and remembers the world before climate change.

Cristobal, a young fisherman at work outside the Mexican port of Lázaro Cárdenas, shares his insights: Fishing is harder than working out. Also, he and the sea are connected by a progressing disease. At night he perceives what can only be grasped from the boat: the chemicals flowing into the water, the smell, the red lights of the steel mill. “Men of Salt” tells of a dilemma: What if you identify with an ecosystem that’s ceaselessly being abused?

A fly rotates around a lightbulb, a spoon turns in a cup. Everything moves in circles here, including the life of the couple. He looks at his mobile phone, she does the sun salutation. Even her somersaults don’t make him look up. The minimalist black and white animation begins to vibrate. The monotony gets out of rhythm. She imagines him as a fly and chases him. Scenes of a marriage, reflected in the yellow eyes of a gecko.

In rural northern Colombia, where the railway has long been discontinued, people help themselves with a fleet of “Motorrodillos” – motorcycle-driven miniature trains. Every day, Dolly and her colleagues take school kids, goods and travellers on rugged routes from village to village. If you meet oncoming traffic on the way, you get off the rails. If you find holes in the rails, you mend them yourself. The affectionate portrait of a self-organised transport system.

Cooking is a wonderful occasion to think, reminisce and talk. And if you have never learned to cook, if you’ve spent your life seeing the place at the stove as a feminist step backwards, then you can only have braised pork ribs while reflecting on your distant first home, your mother. How fortunate then that one can also reminisce in animated form and do it so impressively that the fragrant images make our mouth water.

Shaking his head, Michele looks at the olives lying on the ground. Nobody collects them now. He once planted the olive trees. They were his pride and fed the family. Now he sits by the fireplace with his wife. Their hands show the years of hard field work. With a tender gaze, their grandson watches his grandparents cook, argue, take walks. Moving snapshots that coalesce into a life lived, a chronicle of the rural exodus in Italy.

Magic mobile on the wall, who is the fairest of them all? A young woman slips into a second skin. She goes out, drinks bubble tea with her friends. Selfies are made. The mood is cheerful. But once back home, she and her outward skin melt into each other; a self dissolves. Her own reflection becomes a chimera. A surreal body horror animation about beauty ideals and the compulsion to fit in.

Sixteen-year-old Cian is expected to work at his family’s sheep farm after school. Life there is as rough as the Irish west coast landscape. No time to lie in or play football. Instead, rams must be taken by the horns. In this sensitive coming-of-age study, the camera watches the lanky boy from up close as he learns the challenging craft of shepherding, under his grandfather’s patient and critical eyes.

Having a child is a heavy new responsibility. When Ethan Barrett becomes a stay-at-home dad and suddenly finds himself in charge of the welfare of his little daughter, he realises abruptly that his every action will influence her life – whether he wants it or not. Charming, ironical and witty, he explores how to be least in the way of her perfect development. The next little masterpiece of tongue-in-cheek humour after “Burp” (DOK Leipzig 2020).

Bizarre animations of strange beauty on a metal plate, set to Free Jazz. Light reflexes. Lines and circles that take on human or insect form, merge and dissolve. Sometimes a voice from offscreen gives directions, demands a new plate. Then everything starts again – but differently. The realization dawns slowly: This is an expedition to an underworld that generates silently communicating ghost lights.

A young woman attaches acoustic sensors to a tree, hammering nail after nail into the bark. Something stirs in the bowels of the earth, apparently attracted by the sound. This being, whatever it is, starts to search for its origin, gliding through tunnel systems, bizarre subterranean formations. Sometimes you see our world from below, people walking their daily paths. The soil lives! There is still a lot to discover.