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A non-verbal visual journey to the polar regions of our planet portrayed through a triptych montage of photography and video. Landscapes at the World's Ends is a multi-dimensional canvas of imagery recorded above the Arctic Circle and below the Antarctic Convergence, viewed through the lens of whom is realistically an alien in this environment, the polar tourist. Filmed during several artist residencies on-board three expedition vessels, New Zealand nature photographer and filmmaker Richard Sidey documents light and time in an effort to share his experiences and the beauty that exists over the frozen seas. Set to an ambient score by Norwegian Arctic based musician, Boreal Taiga, this experimental documentary transports us to the islands of South Georgia, the Antarctic Peninsula, Greenland and Svalbard. Landscapes at the World's Ends is the first film in Sidey's Speechless trilogy, and is followed by Speechless: The Polar Realm (2015) and Elementa (2020).
A dying man in his forties recalls his childhood, his mother, the war and personal moments that tell of and juxtapose pivotal moments in Soviet history with daily life.
This non-narrative short film examines one of the great American icons: the Louisville Slugger baseball bat. The film was conceived by its co-directors, Marlon Johnson and Dennis Scholl, along with the Louisville Orchestra's conductor, Teddy Abrams, to be screened set to a live performance by the orchestra of Claude Debussy's "Jeux".
This short film is part of a mixed media artwork of the same name, which also included postcards of Ader crying, sent to friends of his, with the title of the work as a caption. The film was initially ten minutes long, and included Ader rubbing his eyes to produce the tears, but was cut down to three and a half minutes. This shorter version captures Ader at his most anguished. His face is framed closely. There is no introduction or conclusion, no reason given and no relief from the anguish that is presented.
Bas Jan Ader hangs from the branch of a tall tree, until he loses his grip and falls into a river below.
First part of the collaborative project "Brise-Glace" showing the diverse travels on the icebreaker "Frej". Directed by Jean Rouch.
Shot in his garage-studio, the camera records Ader painstakingly hoisting a large brick over his shoulder. His figure is harshly lit by two tangles of light bulbs. He drops the brick, crushing one strand of lights. He again lifts the brick, allowing tension to accrue. The climax inevitable—the brick falls and crushes the second set of lights. Here the film abruptly ends, all illumination extinguished.
Iwasaki’s ink oscillates like an evil lava lamp that might actually be alive and its progression into more and more disturbing images create an impressive sense of dread in a film that is basically just some pencil drawings on a blank background. (Film School Rejects)
A conversation between reality and consciousness.
A brother and sister return to their family home in search of their world famous parents who have disappeared.
A structure-free, four-part examination of the rise and fall of the Third Reich. Each part explores a different topic, from Hitler's cult of personality in propaganda to how said propaganda was associated with pre-Nazi German cultural, spiritual, and national heritage to the Holocaust and the ideology behind it, particularly from Himmler's point of view.
"Des-authorized" is the combination of three stories, three realities that coexist and feed. The journey begins in the imagination of Elia K, the principal, who imagines Elijah, a character who is a poor playwright facing the crossroads to be true to his art, or succumb to the pressures of the producers must decide his work between surrender or pay the price of his freedom. On another level, we have Nina and Frederick, the protagonists of the work that Elijah is writing. They only seek to love, they are forced to leave the paper and press the Elijah to them the end that his story deserves, this is the starting point of "Des-authorized" a film set in an imaginary city , colorful and delusional. In the line of "Amelie" and "Stranger Than Fiction", brings a reflection on art, creativity, love and heartbreak.
Conceptual visual artist Ján Mančuška died in 2011. However, in his short 39 years of existence, he managed to create a number of remarkable works, many of which have been exhibited in renowned galleries around the world – including the Centre Pompidou in Paris and MoMA in New York. In his homeland, however, his work reflecting everyday life, social reality or the meaning of language has never achieved comparable fame. Together with the children of an artist who was not afraid to confront the public with the question of the meaning of art, the director embarks on a journey that aims not only to get closer to Mančuška, but also to reveal him in hitherto unrecognised shades, thus filling in the gaps that are increasingly appearing in the context of the fading memory of his personality.
In Manhattan's Central Park, a film crew directed by William Greaves is shooting a screen test with various pairs of actors. It's a confrontation between a couple: he demands to know what's wrong, she challenges his sexual orientation. Cameras shoot the exchange, and another camera records Greaves and his crew. Sometimes we watch the crew discussing this scene, its language, and the process of making a movie. Is there such a thing as natural language? Are all things related to sex? The camera records distractions - a woman rides horseback past them; a garrulous homeless vet who sleeps in the park chats them up. What's the nature of making a movie?
If a machine would possess a soul it might be a beach. Every single sand corn symbolizes a data-set of a memory captured in the world wide web saved deep down in the ocean. From there the bytes condense and finally reach the cloud. But how would it feel for a machine to see the glitch waves and feeling the shore stones on its case? What would be the colours of the coastline? Glitching Offshore tries to portrait the soul of an AI and the universe behind it. Glitching offshore, alike drifting away as in a psychogeographical dérive (furthermore, away from the "rive": bank) where human intentional yet chaotic action is substituted by pixels' stirrings of the soul.
It’s often a sense of shakiness which emerges in seeking affordable rent. Furthermore, leasing a real estate in the time of Covid it’s an enough though enterprise due to the different restrictions in moving freely and without any fear even visiting the venue, still not to mention the angst before the future that a change in life like a relocation involves so that everything starts spinning around. Such a pretty much postmodern sensation should have had Hazel in the Synecdoche, New York by Charlie Kaufman when she rents a burning house, which becomes quite her home yet with this persisting sense of precarity still not precluding to keep going. The experience is now translocated in another city, Turin. It still remains a burning house in a burning city, however it becomes home to someone.