Boi tries to be quiet, but the glasses are shaking in his hand. You must not disturb Papa! Because when Papa is disturbed, the angry man in him wakes up and beats his beloved Mama. In “Angry Man”, there is no hiding from the violence that creeps into every fibre of daily life in the form of nervous anticipation or paralysing panic. Yet despite his fear, Boi does the only right thing: He goes to get help. But Killi’s film is not just the story of a brave boy who breaks the spiral of domestic violence: Her work radiates empathy in every direction, including even the father. Because he has a monster inside him – a drawn one that grows and creeps before it pushes its way out, where it erupts as a cut-out angry man. He needs help, too. “Angry Man”, the adaptation of a picture book by Gro Dahle and Svein Nyhus, conveys in a humanistic and credible manner that people can free themselves and change. All without a romanticising happy end.

Marie Ketzscher

Dramas that many children have to endure play out in silence and hiding: The girl cuddling her dog because her own mother is staggering about with a glass of red wine, probably pregnant again. The boy as a toy ball caught between his aggressive parents who rain their arguments down on him with hacking beaks. Another girl who balances a dangerously wobbling seesaw with her family members on it. With her intimate cut-out animation, Marianne Bundgaard Nielsen metaphorically leafs through the family albums and shows the stories hidden by the staged photos. The adults are dreary puppets, sometimes fading drawings, addressing suicides within the family. The children, on the other hand, are much more lively figures with big accusing eyes, small read hearts and sometimes even coloured butterfly wings. You have to let them flutter and fly instead of unloading so much of your own misery on them.

Marie Ketzscher