Director Ahmet Necdet Çupur goes back to the place of his childhood, a small village in the southeast of Turkey, in order to capture the life of his family through his adult eyes. His return takes place during a family crisis, because his younger brothers are now grown up and demand their independence, just like he did years ago. His brother Mahmut, who recently entered an arranged marriage which doesn’t fulfill him, wants to leave his young wife. Yet he feels trapped between his desire for freedom, the reproaches of his parents, as well as his own feelings of guilt, since a divorced woman becomes a pariah in the conservative community of the village. At the same time, the younger sister, Zeynep, can no longer bear her family's “repressive regime” and the life without prospects in the village, and she plans her escape to the city, where she wishes to continue her studies. The director captures with exquisite candour the tensions in the family, the identity crisis of his brothers and their rebellion against their authoritarian father, who feels that the universe of the family is in danger. Without judging or accusing, the filmmaker provides an outlet of expression for all the members of his family, even for the parents who are hurt by their children’s revolt. The result is a complex family portrait, an intense blend of often contradictory emotions and a painful generational conflict. Through exploring the universe of the conventional family structure, the movie also sketches a subtle critic of the overconservative practices which are employed in some Muslim communities. (Monica Stan)

Filmmaker Zoé Chantre composes a video diary of her most intimate reflections regarding life, death, and the desire to start a family. In a ludic manner, which merges animation with the careful and curious observation of everyday details – from the ants in her apartment to conversations with friends, walks on the beach, and regular medical checkups -, the director creates an ingenious visual universe and a welcoming cinematic space to meditate on a series of aggravating health issues, her mother’s cancer diagnosis, in addition to her own aspirations and doubts concerning her desire to become a mother. In this way, with amazing cheerfulness and admirable humour, the filmmaker manages to ask the most profound existential questions. The movie is a test of cinema’s force of expression in the face of one’s own vulnerability and mortality, as well as an attempt at self-healing. (Monica Stan)

15 years ago, Maryna, Pavel, and Denis left the Minsk State Theatre and joined the newly-founded Belarus Free Theatre. The rehearsals and the shows take place secretly and the director communicates through Skype from exile. The resources are scarce, but the subjects are explosive; civil disobedience becomes a moral duty. Just like real life is trapped between the daily routine and underground activities, the play they’re working on depicts a life full of deprivation and politicians from the opposition who “disappeared.” It is basically a play about the deprivation of truth. Any person who dares to criticize the regime risks, among other things, their own death. This is why Denis consciously chooses to betray art by renouncing acting in order to protect his family. Except that things have gotten so bad that even those who are mere observers risk everything. Because to observe means to know. The documentary is built around the violent protests in Belarus during the summer of 2020, when dictator Alexander Lukashenko was “re-elected” and the leader of the opposition, most probably the de factor winner of the elections, was forced to leave the country. Maryna, Pavel, and Denis also take to the streets and participate in the protest the best way they know – through theatre, while hundreds of people are being abusively arrested. (Sorana Stănescu)

Director Martín Solá captures fragments from an enigmatic universe: the life of Metok – a Buddhist nun who, as a child, left her Tibetan family in order to pursue the spiritual path, in a monastery from Nepal. Having reached adulthood and being initiated into the secrets of traditional medicine, Metok wishes to return to her natal village to help a woman give birth, as well as to see her family again, and she is ready to face all the obstacles and the dangers that lurk on the way to Tibet. Metok is both an open and closed book: rather untalkative and maintaining an almost mystical mysteriousness, she is nevertheless full of disarming sincerity. Opaque and transparent, devoted to her spiritual mission, and at the same time showing an almost childish homesickness, Metok is an unusual character, whom the director fails to grasp completely. The filmmaker translates what cannot be expressed in words through the poetry of images and sounds, which evoke the depth and the stillness of this remarkable being’s inner universe. (Monica Stan)

The film is a visual essay about the director’s experience of solitude during the shooting of her previous documentary (“Frem,” shot in 2017 and released in 2019) in Antarctica, the main character of which was an artificial neural network. In “White on White,” the dialogue with artificial intelligence continues, as it approaches themes pertaining to climate change, man’s relationship with nature, technology, art, and the meaning of life. Scenes from her daily routine at the research station are contrasted with lyrical images of the immaculate white of Antarctica and they are completed by the director’s commentary, thus creating an original vision and power of expression. Last but not least, it’s a film which transports you to a new place, in a new manner, which questions man’s relationship with the environment, as well as the hypocrisy of sending a ship with 300 tourists to Antarctica or consuming 300 litres of fuel every day in order to keep the research station going, to study precisely the way we destroy the planet. (Sorana Stănescu)