Anne (36) lives in Halle (Saale) and her life is in chaos. An apartment full of moving boxes, a yapping dog. She tells her mother on the phone that the electricity is about to be cut off again. Sometimes her daughter Leonie (14) drops by. Like her mother, she is at risk of slipping into drug addiction. Anne has already lost custody of her two younger children, too. The camera stays purely observational, captures loose scenes from the life of a woman who wants to take responsibility again. The film does not look for psychological explanations but shows Anne as she is. On her drives through the prefabricated housing estate, she seems isolated from her surroundings. Mother and daughter grow closer over an ice cream in a public square. Anne’s visit to her mother provides support but creates pressure, too. We grow ever closer to Anne, sharing her wish that she can become a role model for her daughter.

Anke Leweke

They develop software, work as lifestyle coaches, own marketing agencies or an Amazon shop, travel around the world without paying for accommodation: digital nomads for whom a laptop on a suitcase is sometimes enough of a workplace. Some of their aspirations fall by the wayside in the process and become the project of an enterprising Munich-based developer: Mathias is courting rootless individualists and clever investors to become backers of a project that is to turn a deserted former luxury hotel in the Bulgarian mountains into a hip coworking space. He promises a sense of community, intense human connections and few taxes, an outdoor pool and a campfire idyll. While the nomads who dream of home are waiting for the utopia to become reality, the residents of the surrounding villages sense a new “Wind of Change” with some scepticism. A brilliant structural analysis of a business model that capitalises on modern longings and knows how to carve out the necessary space.

Jan Künemund

Schnapps is carefully poured into hip flasks and handed to the men. Their faces are marked by the traces of homeless life. A housing project in Berlin Kreuzberg gives them more than a roof over their head. The people who work here listen to them, accompany them to the doctor and hand out controlled amounts of alcohol. The project’s approach is consistently addiction-accepting – without the enforcement of abstinence and with the goal of relieving the affected persons from existential pressure. In this protected space, the men can breathe freely again after many years of living in the streets, rediscover their own personality and dignity. The camera follows some of the residents and social workers over several years, always at eye-level, showing the work of this institution and leaving space for the men’s personal stories. A fragile community emerges in front of the lens.

Anke Leweke

Light is burning in the old Franciscan church. The guests arrive to warm up and sleep. There is soup and Berliner doughnuts. When everyone has been taken care of, the light goes out again. A voice asks the filmmakers: Do you know Cologne well? A few photographs shown in-between a lot of black screen. People, places, Ingo talks. An alternative city tour from the perspective of persons living in the streets. Interesting even when you can’t make out much – possibly even art. At the end of this documentary miniature the light goes on again. And the protagonist steps out onto the street.

Jan Künemund

On New Year's Eve 2023, Thomas Heise begins to shoot his new film. It is to be called “Übergang”. His idea: A film in the “Heimatfilm” tradition revolving around Berlin’s Schönhauser Allee, where he has lived for decades. The author is to be a character in the film. A few months later, Heise falls seriously ill and dies. The small team continues to work on the film, unearthing unpublished texts and images from Heise’s estate and archives. “Images are […] encompassing”, Heiner Müller is quoted, but dreams curdle quickly. As soon as the personal story becomes a false image, it is gently but persistently put into perspective. A touching email exchange Heise had with a female high-school graduate in Karlsruhe who is searching for truth contains a whole primer for documentary filmmaking: “See what you would not otherwise see. Stay patient. […] Never expect financial security. Be happy about that. Because it won’t change.” Peter Badel and Chris Wright have not produced a hermetic artist tribute, but have, utterly in the spirit of Heise, pieced together fragments of lived history.

Jan Künemund

Playing hide and seek, reading out a school essay, taking a driving lesson. These scenes seem casual at first glance, but they turn out to be snapshots of life in exceptional circumstances. Only when the camera pulls back for a long shot does it reveal the refugee homes. The man behind the wheel drives briskly, explaining to the instructor that he obtained his driving license back home long ago. Two girls under a blanket tell each other stories of the time before they fled. What keeps this luminous round of scenes together is the hope of a return to normality.

Anke Leweke