We don’t see where they are at first, we just hear one of the two men speaking in voice-over, in Hebrew, the Israeli who can’t sleep while his Palestinian boyfriend tosses and turns beside him in bed, plagued by nightmares, everything is more heightened by night. As the speaker makes clear, they’re at home in Paris, their dog nestled between them. But his account only touches on that in passing, it’s more about trying to make sense of the political situation back home: a war, an ongoing catastrophe so terrible it’s impossible to truly describe. Maybe any such attempt is futile, but what else can one do?
The speaker’s turn of phrase is formidable, his words spiral and turn around on themselves, talking of horrors, protests, discrimination, but also of family, intimacy, the memory of joy. The images fold back on themselves as well, shuttling through the dark apartment but also leaving it for the world outside, metro stations, indeterminate landscapes, streets in snow. They also work with the contrast between light and dark, although darkness mostly dominates, too. Yet there is still talk of waking up in the morning, of new dawns, however intangible or impossible to reach, and the images of the bed by daylight and the man waking up in it carry infinite tenderness. What else is left to hold on to than that?

Surrounded by high-rises, Natalia has created her own, not-so-small paradise: Goats roam free, shrubs and fruit trees bloom, the chickens busily lay eggs. Natalia meets repeated attempts to buy the plot with brusque derision. Even when the city and country are attacked by Russia in the wintry February of 2022, she retains her apparent carefree resistance: While all the lights around go out at night, there is a warm and cozy glow from Natalia’s house. Only Kitty, with whom she lives, expresses concern, organises his flight from Ukraine and prophylactically shows the spots that would be safest in an air raid.
Adelina Borets’ portrait of an incorruptible woman finds its own unique tone, shows a simple everyday life throughout the seasons that presents itself as self-determined and buoyant despite the worsening situation. Borets adopts Natalia’s manner as natural, gives her space. The dimensions of the war unfold step by step, at Natalia’s own pace and by skilful cuts and pans. “Flowers of Ukraine” is a film about a disaster. But it is also a love song to life – and pickled tomatoes.

In three chapters, this film takes us through the Nigerian megacity of Lagos and explores its fluid side. The tour begins with boatman Osan, constantly moving, balancing on his waterway. In split screens we see the human body as a vessel containing water. Then we are chauffeured through the flowing traffic to the Lagos market and finally perform a water dance above the rooftops of the city. Interspersed are mobile phone videos of a young man on Tarkwa Bay Beach: The waves are good, the sun is shining. May the water bless us!
“Fluid Lagos” was created in three collective workshops conceived and moderated by filmmaker Nora Mandray. Inspired by documentary practices, the participants developed a hybrid film form in which different voices and perspectives combine to talk about water, about a place and its arteries.