The Europe-wide protests against Chile’s military dictatorship were expressed not only by political activism, but by a host of artistic actions. The colourful aesthetics of the Unidad Popular’s street art, popularised by the Ramona Parra Brigades, became a visual trademark. Based on this model, the Brigada Pablo Neruda, for example, whose members included well-known Chilean artists exiled in Paris like José Balmes, Gracia Barrios and Guillermo Núñez, realised a 60-metre-long mural on the fringes of documenta 6 in Kassel in 1977. Its creation was documented in Franz Lehmkuhl’s film “Chilenische Wandmalerei” (1977–80), screened in Leipzig in 1980. In his agitation film “Chile lebt”, co-produced with Michael Börner, the Chilean journalist and filmmaker Juan Forch uses pictures of the Brigada Pablo Neruda to express what keeps hope in his homeland alive: international solidarity. In 1979, Forch returned to Chile from exile in the GDR.

Florian Wüst

Romantic, mystical, folkloristic: Theodor Kittelsen's (1857–1914) oeuvre as a painter is not just dedicated to nature but also to legends and trolls – and has influenced artists to the present day. Natasha Nikitina for example, whose film takes up Kittelsen's twelve-part series of pictures "Soria Moria Palace" and his eponymous book: The young hero Askeladden sees the golden palace of Soria Moria in the distance and sets out to reach it; an allegory of the golden future that can be earned with a lot of hard work and dedication. In her film, however, Nikitina focuses more on the atmospheric element, letting a troll in a rock wake up and fall asleep again, letting geese and other birds take flight, letting fog and dusk turn into night and back into a glowing morning. A tribute to the artist, but also to the myth-enshrouded Norwegian landscape in general.

Marie Ketzscher

Łukasz dreams of becoming a professional boxer. His mother Monika supports him as much as she can. But the fact that this means he has to move to a sport boarding school over 500 kilometres away is something she can’t fathom. For who will do his washing there and make sure that he turns up to training on time? For Łukasz, the move is a step towards independence, but also a test of his abilities among like-minded people. Between hard training, new friendships and first love, the boarding school doesn’t just become a springboard for his sporting career, but also the place where he comes of age. Over five years, Adam Roszkowski accompanies his taciturn protagonist on his way to the Polish junior championships. In a blend of observation and discreet staging, everyday training routines, family moments and a first date come together to form a narrative that is so close to its characters that the documentary format almost melts into the background. Entirely indebted to the principle of show, don’t tell, “Growing Up” also gives an account of the dedication needed for competitive sport and the price it carries as well as of the silent battles needed to go one’s own way.

Tina Jany

The Chilean folk group Illapu only really became famous under the military dictatorship. The five musicians were allowed to work, but had to “keep a low profile”. When they gradually joined the cultural resistance against the Pinochet regime, they were expelled in 1981. From their French exile, they toured Europe, including East Berlin. This is where Carlos Puccio’s film begins: The Chilean directing student observed Illapu’s rehearsals and concerts for his diploma film project at the Film and Television Academy of the GDR. They talk about their enduring bond with Chile and about what would happen if individual members of the band were given entry permits and Illapu would consequently break up. In 1986, they moved to Mexico together and returned to Chile two years later because of the changing political climate.

Florian Wüst

To simply dancefreely and confidently on stage … That is 12-year-old Jools’s dream. She learns to accept her physical handicaps and overcome her own limitations with the help of choreographer Yorrith. Very slowly, in one-to-one lessons, Yorrith encourages Jools to dance in her own way and gives her the strength not to be influenced by other people’s judgements. A captivating story about the fact that there is no right or wrong when it comes to dancing, and the impressive portrait of a girl who no longer wants to be merely looked at but truly seen.

Lina Dinkla

György Kurtág is a renowned Hungarian composer and a major figure of the post-war avant-garde. Born in 1926, he has now reached the age of 100, yet his mind remains wonderfully active. Living in an attic flat of the Budapest Music Center, he continues to work tirelessly with some of the world’s finest musicians who open their creations up to the humbling process of collaboration. Traversing geographies, the film takes us from his birth town of Lugoj to the different places that shaped him, from Transylvania to Budapest to Paris. It traces his early steps into the world of music, which began with dance and four‑hand piano sessions with his mother — something he later continued with his wife and pianist Márta. It then follows his life and many artistic collaborations, including with Icelandic pianist Víkingur Ólafsson and British cellist Steven Isserlis. The film also weaves in the work on his magnum opus “Fin de Partie”. “The map is not the territory; the notes are not music…” To pianists Halla Oddný Magnúsdottir and Ólafsson, Kurtág has “found a way of writing music that is impossible to play without going beyond the notes”. It’s a sentiment shared by Kurtág, who remarks that it’s not about his ideas but about whether the piece, played by a musician, truly “happens” to them. A portrait of a man who lives and breathes music, composing entire worlds brimming with emotion.

Sevara Pan

In the early 2000s, Maria Nikolaidou took a photo on Munich’s “Panzerwiese” (tank meadow): Her son Alexandros and another little boy playing war. A woman with angel’s wings wraps her arms protectively around the two of them. Twenty-three years later, mother and son return to the spot where the black and white photo was taken. Alexandros now uses the same camera to make a photo film about the image and also meets with his former playmate. Their voice-over memories and associations reveal different perspectives and moods. The history and stories behind a photograph are being reconstructed: What was overlooked at the time? Why were Alexandros’ grandparents not allowed to give him a gun? Who is the person on the hill in the background? In the end, a new image emerges.

Anke Leweke