Schedule

The documentary explores army cooks' impact on war outcomes, showcasing how feeding thousands shapes victories and defeats. It depicts food prep as strategic, reflecting a world where ideals are fought for around the kitchen table. Through eleven meals spanning from World War II to Chechnya, the film spans nations, illustrating culinary battles from France to Russia.   'If someone was to write it's a pacifist film, it's not true. If someone was to write it's a film that celebrates the army and the military, it's also not true. There are so many different situations and I was curious to see how human beings go about solving them. I would ask them the same questions and always get different answers. Sometimes you have to be a pacifist because you are a member of some dictator's army, but sometimes you have to grab a gun and fight for your homeland.' - Peter KEREKES

With 20 years of shrimp farming expertise in Taiwan, Du ventured to Myanmar, unaware of the challenges ahead—white powders and guns. Sue, a Burmese-Chinese woman with shrimp farming dreams, married Jojo and took over her father's farm. United by ambition, Du and Sue aimed to create a 'Diamond Marine World'. 'Taiwan is close to Mainland Southeast Asia. A lot of Southeastern Asian labourers come to work in Taiwan. Taiwanese people often look at economically disadvantaged Southeast Asian countries through estranged, discriminatory glasses. I traveled along the Mekong River through Thailand, Laos, Cambodia, and Vietnam for three months in 2015. During that time, I met many Taiwanese people working away from home and became curious about their work and lives in Southeast Asia. 'In Diamond Marine World, the chef from Taiwan, "Du," with his Burmese employees, "Sue," and "Jojo," work together for an opportunity to become rich. Each of them made their sacrifices and choices in the quest for success. They have also lost their trust due to inner demons and conflicts. What is the definition of success in different cultures and systems of values? To become wealthy or to live in the present? In this film, I think the audience can eventually catch sight of humanity and understand this estranged country, Myanmar.' - HUANG Hsiu-yi

In a 250-square-kilometre online community, individuals simulate survival scenarios through avatars. A film crew enters, forming connections with participants who gradually reveal their true selves. Blending virtual experiences with real-life stories, the documentary explores the implications of virtualisation and the evolving nature of human interaction in a digital world.   'We started our research during our studies at the Beaux-Arts. Our first intention was really just to experiment. We did not intend to make a documentary or a film in any way, but mostly just wanted to observe. The idea was to connect to a game and to go and see what was going on there, by observing, without playing. We weren't really aware of what was going on in these online games at the time. At some point we came across a player who wasn't using any of the game's tools and was just hanging out. When we saw that this was possible, to stop in a game, to simply take in the landscape and look around, to sit down with people in a virtual world, to just pause, to talk about other things, to not play in fact, we realised that it was perhaps possible to make a documentary here. That's how it started I think.' - Guilhem CAUSSE

Spring, 1989: For exactly 100 years, the brick-making industry has determined the rhythms of life in Zehdenick, a small town north of Berlin in the state of Brandenburg. Veteran and young brickmakers speak openly and critically about their working and living conditions. As the first instalment of Volker KOEPP's March Brandenburg trilogy, this film was premiered in October 1989, one month before the fall of the Berlin Wall, at the Mannheim Film Festival in West Germany.

The second instalment of March Brandenburg trilogy captures the conversations taking place in Zehdenick during the weeks leading up to the first free elections in spring 1990. Including previously censored footage of March Brandenburg Bricks, this film reflects the hopes and concerns of the business community, working class women, and young people during 'Die Wende', the period of political change in East Germany.

Structured around a dancer's routine, the film unfolds in four stages: hope, fear, anger, and longing for stability. It interweaves these emotions with those of locals of Matsu, the military, and first-time-visiting photographers from Taiwan island.   'Perhaps out of a reactionary mood, I told myself not to film historical tragedies or emphasise soldiers and war. Instead, I wondered if there were stories of the people of Matsu. Thus, chasing after the figure of a dancer, I embarked on the exploration of Matsu.' – CHEIN Wei-ssu

In 1998, Wuqiu was marked as a Nuclear Waste Disposal site despite protests. Islanders question the choice: ‘Why dump it here? Why not bury gold?’ As a military zone, public access is denied, leaving us defenseless if the government acts further.   'However, today, we still use the sparse population of the outlying islands as an excuse, attempting to further exploit the scarce remaining pristine land. If not for the shadow cast by nuclear waste, the islanders' lives would have been tranquil and content. But the imminent shadow of radiation quickly covered the island and shadowed people's hearts.' – Zero CHOU

Liuqiu, a tiny island on the outskirt of the Taiwan Strait, which means ‘floating ball’. Surrounded by more floating balls—’hotels-on-the-sea’ where Chinese fishermen stay. The film depict fate, humanity and destiny of these floating balls.   'Originally a joyful overseas holiday, but once the filming began, everyone except the cinematographer felt ill. Spending eight to nine hours on a dirty, oily boat, unable to use the restroom or eat, only continuously smoking and bonding with them. Then, those lacking sleep started vomiting first. Some places seem nearby, just a short ride by boat, but can people really settle there? This is where I began contemplating the fate of the outlying islands.' - LEE Chih-chiang

A 24-year-old medical student, showing signs of schizophrenia, goes untreated due to family denial. Her brother, eight years younger, questions but remains silent. Years later, he records family interactions, revealing his sister's deteriorating condition. Finally, after 25 years, treatment begins. Despite progress, she succumbs to lung cancer in 2021, leaving unanswered questions for her family.   'My sister was smart, good at drawing, and had great potential. I believe that schizophrenia is not a mental illness but a brain illness, and there is no need to be ashamed or hide it. However, I could not understand the actions of my parents, who could be considered experts. I now know what it's like to feel really troubled because you don't have anyone to talk to. I started recording the facts because they disappeared. It's a boring video that looks like a home video, but I made it because I wanted to help prevent the same thing from happening again.' - FUJINO Tomoaki

Lesya, imprisoned for a crime of passion, faces seven years in an Odessa women's correctional facility. With her newborn, she enters a world filled solely with women—inmates, nurses, and wardens. Uniforms blur identities in this world of wives, widows, daughters, sisters, pregnant women, and children, making it hard to tell who is who.   'I also wanted the film to deliver an authentic collective testimony of the convicted mothers, not only through their conversations with Iryna but also through the silent scenes—the loneliness they feel when their children are taken away and they despairingly finish their birthday cake; the flashes of happiness when the women briefly forget they're in prison. Visually, these scenes are treated almost like a photograph—a memory of a moment independent of space and time. I believe that what defined the women's relationship towards me was curiosity. I did not ask them to do anything; I did not order them around. I simply observed and listened to them, and what they were willing to share with me, I translated into this film.' - Peter KEREKES

Old folks waiting for a good coffin, children waiting to leave the island, soldiers anticipating military retirement... Trees waiting for wind, wind seeking rocks, rocks waiting for man’s return, and I’m waiting for the movie to end.   'This is my hometown. When I first picked up the camera to praise you, what I saw was your abandoned face. Only 16 minutes, yet my feelings were so heavy and fearful. That island, the island I want to return to but don't know how... I think this is a movie that (Kinmen) islanders dare not see...' - HUANG Ting-fu

In 1998, Wuqiu was marked as a Nuclear Waste Disposal site despite protests. Islanders question the choice: ‘Why dump it here? Why not bury gold?’ As a military zone, public access is denied, leaving us defenseless if the government acts further.   'However, today, we still use the sparse population of the outlying islands as an excuse, attempting to further exploit the scarce remaining pristine land. If not for the shadow cast by nuclear waste, the islanders' lives would have been tranquil and content. But the imminent shadow of radiation quickly covered the island and shadowed people's hearts.' – Zero CHOU

Structured around a dancer's routine, the film unfolds in four stages: hope, fear, anger, and longing for stability. It interweaves these emotions with those of locals of Matsu, the military, and first-time-visiting photographers from Taiwan island.   'Perhaps out of a reactionary mood, I told myself not to film historical tragedies or emphasise soldiers and war. Instead, I wondered if there were stories of the people of Matsu. Thus, chasing after the figure of a dancer, I embarked on the exploration of Matsu.' – CHEIN Wei-ssu

The film was shot in two periods. Initially, during Kuo's visit to Ching-wen rebuilding his parents' home, unplanned as a documentary. Later, funding came, but Ching-wen left for Taipei. Kuo returned to Orchid Island, capturing memories of Ching-wen.   'Over these years, moving between Taiwan and Orchid Island, I shared many joyful moments with Ching-wen. I hoped to document his life on the island and even wrote a script for him. Yet, after years of waiting, when I finally received a bit of funding to film, he had to leave Orchid Island.' – KUO Chen-ti

A filmmaker decides to recover the transhumance path that the shepherds in his town used to take to get to the mountains, but he cannot find anyone still alive to tell him the exact route. His idea is also to film it with his family's old super-8 camera but he discovers that, after 41 years of disuse, it no longer picks up sound. The forgotten path and the mute camera will become, along with a donkey called Paolo, the protagonists of a journey full of memories, question marks and silence. '...perhaps we are filmmakers of memory. We work with highly fragile material. And I say it without nostalgia. I see more and more of the future in the past. Sometimes I used to say it as a joke, but it has turned out to be true: my first film was about a house. The next one I did was about a tree and this last one has a path as its main character. The path that connects the house with the tree. And that's all my memory. Gaston Bachelard said that the first images, the ones we all remember at the end of our lives, are those three: a house, a tree and a path. And it's funny that this film plays with forgetfulness: sometimes we see an image without sound, and then we hear a sound without an image... the senses are deactivated, as they are in our memories. Often what we remember is a voice but not its face, and then we see a landscape clearly but not its music... that's how the film progresses, like a path into the fog. And as always, when one sense disappears, another develops. I think this film is made for the sense of touch, which is why the hand that films appears so often, feeling for texture, touching memory.' - Oskar ALEGRIA

Farah, born during the Islamic revolution in Iran in 1979, captures moments of joy and defiance in her daily life and is forced to migrate to her private planet to be free. She buys other people's memories in super 8mm films and records and archives her own, to create an alternative history of Iran.   'When we share a memory with others, it moves from private to public. This story is woven tightly with a resistance to forgetting. At a time when power structures strive to narrate history in ways that hide important and popular segments, it becomes all the more crucial to share personal details and micro-narratives.' - Farahnaz SHARIFI

The soldier's written words breathe life into the desolate and shell-covered Tong-Sha Island, transforming it into a vivid landscape. It's a place where many men seem symbolically bound, unvisited yet too precious to forsake.   'Being used to a certain way of looking, listening and understanding, we are often presumptuous about our judgments. As a filmmaker, I made the same mistake at the beginning of the shoot. I didn’t choose the subject; it is the subject that chose me.' - LEE Meng-zhe

The final instalment of March Brandenburg trilogy moves away from the town of Zehdenick in order to focus on the rural areas north of Berlin. Made in the period between the currency union in East Germany and the official reunification in October 1990, the film shows how drastically the lives of the residents have changed, as crippling unemployment has taken the place of hard work.

In 1974, the filmmaker began his 23-year journey of filming the women workers in a newly built textile factory in the town of Wittstock, East Germany. Life in Wittstock is the fifth instalment in the series; by then, nearly 3,000 women were working in the factory. In this film, three of the workers talk about the changes in the town, their promotions at work, and the choices and compromises they have made in their lives over the years.

Although the director had planned to end the Wittstock documentary series at Life in Wittstock, he continued the project to capture the changes taking place in East Germany after the German reunification. This sixth instalment returns to the town shortly after the fall of the Berlin Wall. The three women workers experience various forms of instability and upheaval when the factory is liquidated; Edith leaves and start a new life in Württemberg.

In May 2008, Cyclone Nargis hit Myanmar's Ayeyarwaddy Delta, claiming 140,000 lives. Despite a filming ban, young Burmese filmmakers clandestinely visited devastated villages after the storm, capturing surreal scenes of loss and resilience. Their emotional footage reveals the profound impact of Nargis, depicting a world where life and death intertwine, altering countless lives forever. For security reasons, the filmmakers couldn't reveal their names and they used pseudonyms. But for the first time, they screened the film with their real names at the 2nd Wathann Film Festival in 2012. One of the directors Pe Maung Same said the screening of Nargis for the first time in Myanmar was their apology to those who were in the film. 'I feel ashamed that we couldn't use our real names due to security reasons when people in the movie dared to show their faces in front of the camera. I want to apologise to them. I want them to understand us. Things are open now and we get the chance to apologise by screening the film here,' he said.

In a 250-square-kilometre online community, individuals simulate survival scenarios through avatars. A film crew enters, forming connections with participants who gradually reveal their true selves. Blending virtual experiences with real-life stories, the documentary explores the implications of virtualisation and the evolving nature of human interaction in a digital world.   'We started our research during our studies at the Beaux-Arts. Our first intention was really just to experiment. We did not intend to make a documentary or a film in any way, but mostly just wanted to observe. The idea was to connect to a game and to go and see what was going on there, by observing, without playing. We weren't really aware of what was going on in these online games at the time. At some point we came across a player who wasn't using any of the game's tools and was just hanging out. When we saw that this was possible, to stop in a game, to simply take in the landscape and look around, to sit down with people in a virtual world, to just pause, to talk about other things, to not play in fact, we realised that it was perhaps possible to make a documentary here. That's how it started I think.' - Guilhem CAUSSE

In Shan State, Myanmar, ancient culture clashes with six decades of civil war. Once a renowned folk singer, Nan Mya Han now channels loss through metaphorical verses. A documentary intertwines her songs with scenes of rituals, delving into decay and impermanence amid political turmoil. It's a poignant, mesmerising exploration of a people's resilience amidst upheaval.   'In our country, people believe that if someone had experienced scary and frightening events, the guardian souls from the body would run away and that person would never have a dream anymore. In order to become cured of that, the soul has to be summoned back.   'Song of Souls is not only the voice of a mother who is moaning and bewailing for her vanishing children but also the sound of calling my own souls as a filmmaker.' - Sai Naw Kham

Chernivtsi, a city in western Ukraine (Czernowitz in German) used to be the centre of the Jewish culture, but only a handful of its Jewish residents survived the concentration camps—Mr ZWILLING, the self-proclaimed pessimist, was one of them. Everyday, Mr ZWILLING visits the elderly Mrs ZUCKERMANN to speak German, to talk about Judaism and their city, and to reminisce about the war.

A filmmaker decides to recover the transhumance path that the shepherds in his town used to take to get to the mountains, but he cannot find anyone still alive to tell him the exact route. His idea is also to film it with his family's old super-8 camera but he discovers that, after 41 years of disuse, it no longer picks up sound. The forgotten path and the mute camera will become, along with a donkey called Paolo, the protagonists of a journey full of memories, question marks and silence. '...perhaps we are filmmakers of memory. We work with highly fragile material. And I say it without nostalgia. I see more and more of the future in the past. Sometimes I used to say it as a joke, but it has turned out to be true: my first film was about a house. The next one I did was about a tree and this last one has a path as its main character. The path that connects the house with the tree. And that's all my memory. Gaston Bachelard said that the first images, the ones we all remember at the end of our lives, are those three: a house, a tree and a path. And it's funny that this film plays with forgetfulness: sometimes we see an image without sound, and then we hear a sound without an image... the senses are deactivated, as they are in our memories. Often what we remember is a voice but not its face, and then we see a landscape clearly but not its music... that's how the film progresses, like a path into the fog. And as always, when one sense disappears, another develops. I think this film is made for the sense of touch, which is why the hand that films appears so often, feeling for texture, touching memory.' - Oskar ALEGRIA

Gwa To, a transgender expects relationship impermanence, assuming women will prefer "real" men. Ma Soe is disillusioned with marriage from her father's drinking. After a period of courtship, the two live together as a couple. Their bond is tested when Gwa To brings home Phoe Htoo, a two-month-old boy seeking adoption. 'Their story makes me think of my childhood: what it could have been if I was raised by my parents. But more importantly, it gave me a chance to understand the strength of parental love and what it means to be a family. I made this documentary as a tribute to this unconditional love and the bonds that it creates.' - Lamin Oo

This is a film-concert of the Dakh Daughters musical and theatrical band, a modern political cabaret in which the art becomes a way of understanding the events of the revolution and the war in Ukraine. The film was created with the support of the Ukrainian Cultural Foundation. ‘Living through a pivotal moment in the history of their country, the Maidan Revolution of 2014, art became a way for the Dakh Daughters to reflect upon those events and face the harsh reality of today’s Ukraine with wisdom and hope. This political cabaret draws its magic from combining the joie de vivre and the horror of the devastating war—even if we don’t see it, its shadow is always there, darkened by the bright stage lights.’ - Irena STETSENK

The soldier's written words breathe life into the desolate and shell-covered Tong-Sha Island, transforming it into a vivid landscape. It's a place where many men seem symbolically bound, unvisited yet too precious to forsake.   'Being used to a certain way of looking, listening and understanding, we are often presumptuous about our judgments. As a filmmaker, I made the same mistake at the beginning of the shoot. I didn’t choose the subject; it is the subject that chose me.' - LEE Meng-zhe

Structured around a dancer's routine, the film unfolds in four stages: hope, fear, anger, and longing for stability. It interweaves these emotions with those of locals of Matsu, the military, and first-time-visiting photographers from Taiwan island.   'Perhaps out of a reactionary mood, I told myself not to film historical tragedies or emphasise soldiers and war. Instead, I wondered if there were stories of the people of Matsu. Thus, chasing after the figure of a dancer, I embarked on the exploration of Matsu.' – CHEIN Wei-ssu

Old folks waiting for a good coffin, children waiting to leave the island, soldiers anticipating military retirement... Trees waiting for wind, wind seeking rocks, rocks waiting for man’s return, and I’m waiting for the movie to end.   'This is my hometown. When I first picked up the camera to praise you, what I saw was your abandoned face. Only 16 minutes, yet my feelings were so heavy and fearful. That island, the island I want to return to but don't know how... I think this is a movie that (Kinmen) islanders dare not see...' - HUANG Ting-fu

Mentioning Diao-yu-tai evokes an immediate patriotic response in Taiwan due to the territorial dispute between China and Japan, sparked by a 1968 oil field survey in the East China Sea.   'I wouldn't say I'm shooting the Diao-yu-tai; it's more like the Diao-yu-tai is capturing me, or perhaps it is reflecting me. I never thought the Diao-yu-tai was important to me, and even now, after researching so much about the island, the more I understand it, the less I want to engage with it. I just wish it could peacefully lie there.' - Singing CHEN

After a military coup in Myanmar on February 1, 2021, a Burmese teenager, initially depressed, decides to join a friend's media group for revolution, reigniting hope and steering his own path.   'Before the coup, I was just a filmmaker who loved making and watching films and at that time I was trying to make my first feature film. And then a coup happened, the film industry couldn't run anymore. All Burmese people's hopes and dreams were ruined.   At that time, I was thinking if I can't make my first feature film, I will try to do my first documentary about the coup. So I started recording myself for a long time and Journey of a Bird was born. The documentary is about the struggle of the young generation of Myanmar but I don't want to make heavy drama stuff. Just in a natural way. Of course, the world already knows how cruel the policies and soldiers of Myanmar are, but they also need to know about how military coups make a lot of chaos in our generation.'

In Yangon, dreams end with a military takeover in February 2021. Amid darkness, a film emerges, capturing the struggle through written words, recorded voices, and images—a portrayal of losing ground.   'I grew up in Yangon. In February 2021, my dreams came to an end. My mother said: 'Son, wake up. The military has taken over the country.' The days got darker. The window in my narrow room and the piece of sky I watched seemed to be the only freedom left. I wanted to say something about this new undercurrent in my life.' - LG Anonymous LG Team

A couple escape to the jungles after the protest against the 2021 Myanmar military coup. Amidst the chaos and uncertainty, they find comfort in a newly adopted cat named ‘Poopy’.

The People's Defense Force attempts to retrieve a comrade's body from a battle during Myanmar's Spring Revolution. Two members lose legs, leading to a heart-wrenching funeral with an empty coffin.

 Adolescents abandon their daily routines and don uniforms in an effort to oppose the terrorist administration. Green is a hue of liberation.

In ancient times, the vast area between the Vistula, the Volga, the Baltic Sea, and the Black Sea was called ‘Sarmatia’, where Moldova, Belarus, Lithuania, and Ukraine can be found today. Quoting the works of the Sarmatia-born German poet Johannes BOBROWSKI (1917–1965), KOEPP travels through the area, depicting the region as the ‘dreamland where all nations and religious [groups] would find their place if history had not ploughed it all up over and over again’.

Uwe Johnson's final study in the English town of Sheerness featured a map of Mecklenburg, his childhood home he never revisited post-emigration. Conceived as a geobiography, this film follows Johnson's texts to locations from his life, encountering people and landscapes linked to his work, sometimes closely, sometimes more loosely. 'My re-encounter with the writer Uwe Johnson was special for me: it seemed as if a survivor of the war had tried to write against forgetting. The present in 2018, however, was characterised by historical oblivion and the hopes of the 1990s for a more peaceful world had long since vanished after the apparent end of the Cold War. There had been Chechnya and Georgia, and Russia had recently annexed Crimea… 'This is how I approached the content. Johnson's relationship to the landscapes of his homeland, his coming to terms with the post-war period, his "going and staying." I had already filmed many landscapes in his regions and I often experienced that the people I met in the villages only became at home here after 1945. And I had always pointed out in my films that the north and east of Germany were always particularly affected by the devastation of wars and divisions and that everything was often completely desolate; this was the case from the 30-year war, death and the devil, right up to the effects of the Second World War in the last century. The affinity with Uwe Johnson's world became more and more apparent in many facets. That's why, impressed by the poetic power of Johnson's texts, I wanted to make this film. 'The pandemic caused repeated interruptions after filming began. The current developments of 2020 to 2023 were suddenly very closely linked to Uwe Johnson's work. The dashed hopes of women in Belarus and the announcement of Russian manoeuvres. Finally, on February 24, 2022, the expansion of Russia's invasion to the whole of Ukraine. Now, at the beginning of 2023, it seems as if there had never been an end to the war.' - Volker KOEPP

Mrs. O. is suffering from dementia. Her story is told through a combination of documentary footage and her video journals. She uses a digital camera to document daily activities, memories, thoughts, and event commentaries. Through an individual story of gradual memory loss, Alda reflects the attitude of the post-communist society towards its recent history. 'I found Mrs. Oldriska by random search on the internet when I was searching for information about different malfunctions of memory. She had a blog, where she published short diary notes and simple poems. According to her profile, she suffered from Alzheimer's type of dementia. I found it interesting how she reflects on her past through the experience with the disease, what remains in the memory and what just fades and how different memories deform or reform the past, not just in some individual life, but also in so-called collective memory of a society, or country. I wrote the script of the film Alda based on our discussions and her diaries, and I used her expressions, her way of talking and reflecting reality. It is her voice-over in the film. A lot of ideas emerged spontaneously or as a result of improvisation during the recording. The lady in the picture is an actress, because for Mrs. Oldriska the shooting would be extremely exhausting, and she was OK with this kind of solution. While I was writing the script for Alda, I lent a small digital camera to Mrs. Oldriska and asked her to record for me some situations from her everyday life. I thought it might help me with the writing, and that maybe I could use some of it in the film. But when I saw the footage, it was a separate movie by Mrs. Oldriska herself. I ended up editing the material to 75 minutes and named the film Olda. With no previous experience in filmmaking, she uses the camera in a very spontaneous way, sometimes fighting with the technical limits of the device, sometimes even forgetting about the shooting itself. The result is a diary-style film dealing with aging, pain, and solitude in a raw, non-aestheticized manner. These two films are in a way complementary and they refer to different ways of approaching reality in documentary filming—an author's point of view versus the pure record of what appears to be so-called "authentic reality.' - Viera ČÁKANYOVÁ

Ms. Oldřiška, diagnosed with Alzheimer's, lives with her dog in an apartment in Brno in the Czech Republic. Using a basic camera, she captures daily challenges, visits from her friend and son, and her apartment's reconstruction. The film explores ageing, pain, solitude, and the love for both people and animals. 'I found Mrs. Oldriska by random search on the internet when I was searching for information about different malfunctions of memory. She had a blog, where she published short diary notes and simple poems. According to her profile, she suffered from Alzheimer's type of dementia. I found it interesting how she reflects on her past through the experience with the disease, what remains in the memory and what just fades and how can different memories deform or reform the past, not just in some individual life, but also in so-called collective memory of a society, or country. I wrote the script of the film Alda based on our discussions and her diaries, and I used her expressions, her way of talking and reflecting reality. It is her voice-over in the film. A lot of ideas emerged spontaneously or as a result of improvisation during the recording. The lady in the picture is an actress, because for Mrs. Oldriska the shooting would be extremely exhausting, and she was OK with this kind of solution. While I was writing the script for Alda, I lent a small digital camera to Mrs. Oldriska and asked her to record for me some situations from her everyday life. I thought it might help me with the writing, and that maybe I could use some of it in the film. But when I saw the footage, it was a separate movie by Mrs. Oldriska herself. I ended up editing the material to 75 minutes and named the film Olda. With no previous experience in filmmaking, she uses the camera in a very spontaneous way, sometimes fighting with the technical limits of the device, sometimes even forgetting about the shooting itself. The result is a diary-style film dealing with aging, pain, and solitude in a raw, non-aestheticized manner. These two films are in a way complementary and they refer to different ways of approaching reality in documentary filming—an author's point of view versus the pure record of what appears to be so-called “authentic reality.' - Viera ČÁKANYOVÁ

HUNG Chun-hsiu spent seven years filming three residents of Kinmen island: an owner of a local photography shop, a retired officer and a Chinese woman from Sichuan province who came to Kinmen with the hope for a better future. Using photographs and archival materials, HUNG explores the personal stories of three residents and how they reflect upon the upheavals between the two sides of the Taiwan Strait.

Old folks waiting for a good coffin, children waiting to leave the island, soldiers anticipating military retirement... Trees waiting for wind, wind seeking rocks, rocks waiting for man’s return, and I’m waiting for the movie to end.   'This is my hometown. When I first picked up the camera to praise you, what I saw was your abandoned face. Only 16 minutes, yet my feelings were so heavy and fearful. That island, the island I want to return to but don't know how... I think this is a movie that (Kinmen) islanders dare not see...' - HUANG Ting-fu

The soldier's written words breathe life into the desolate and shell-covered Tong-Sha Island, transforming it into a vivid landscape. It's a place where many men seem symbolically bound, unvisited yet too precious to forsake.   'Being used to a certain way of looking, listening and understanding, we are often presumptuous about our judgments. As a filmmaker, I made the same mistake at the beginning of the shoot. I didn’t choose the subject; it is the subject that chose me.' - LEE Meng-zhe

Structured around a dancer's routine, the film unfolds in four stages: hope, fear, anger, and longing for stability. It interweaves these emotions with those of locals of Matsu, the military, and first-time-visiting photographers from Taiwan island.   'Perhaps out of a reactionary mood, I told myself not to film historical tragedies or emphasise soldiers and war. Instead, I wondered if there were stories of the people of Matsu. Thus, chasing after the figure of a dancer, I embarked on the exploration of Matsu.' – CHEIN Wei-ssu

As the latest instalment of the Ten Years franchise, the omnibus film Ten Years Myanmar is a collective effort from five Myanmar filmmakers to speculate on the future of the country that has been torn apart since the coup in 2021.   Production Note: The result is five very different scenarios and visions, some grim and some more hopeful, and all together will inspire the Myanmar and international audience to stay resilient in times of adversity. All five of the filmmakers have continued to live and work in Myanmar, even after many fellow filmmakers have left, and this film also serves as a model for those working in environments where freedom of expression is limited in how to express their thoughts and feelings, some of which may be controversial.

The director revisits places of his own past. Born in 1944 in Stettin (now the Polish city of Szczecin) and grown up in Berlin-Karlshorst, he has met and turned numerous people and locations between the two cities into the protagonists of his films. Now, he returns to them to find out more about the history of this region, and how much of his own life has overlapped with the lives of his protagonists.

Taman-taman (Park): Two Indonesian poets meet at Tainan Park, using daytime experiences to craft poetry. Inspired by encounters and emotions, their creations take shape through night-time chanting, imagination, and action. Taman-taman (Park) unfolds a journey resembling an ancient fable, with untold stories hidden in the endless night. The storytellers become integral parts of the narratives as well.   'If we describe it with landscape painting, no matter how realistic it is, the painter cannot bring the scenery in front of them into the exhibition hall. However, looking at the landscapes that the painter has selected, modified, and embellished, sometimes the soul can be taken to a further place. Or, the painting itself is already an independent scenery, whether as a whole or in detail; it makes people yearn for or fear. Sometimes, when looking at landscape paintings, imagining the painter facing the scenery across this canvas, gradually, it also becomes a part of the scenery.' - SO Yo-hen  

In 1985 Buenos Aires, the trial of Argentina's last dictatorship unfolds, reminiscent of Nuremberg after WWII. Recorded on U-matic tapes, 90 days reveal testimonies of horror and a final verdict: 'Never Again'. The film delves into defenders, political positions, and victims' voices, narrating tales of torture and pain, encapsulating life and death within a courtroom.   'The 90 days that the trial lasted were entirely recorded by the public television with two cameras on U-matic cassettes. The search for and access to the trial archive, 530 hours of footage, began in 2013. Dreaming about a documentary film that narrates what happened there, and at the same time tells the story of the Argentine horror and its justice process.    'It was not easy to find the material. At the public television channel, which was in charge of the recording, they denied me any kind of collaboration for fear of political reprisals. At the General Archive of the Argentine Nation (AGN), which has the material in custody, they suggested that in order to avoid inconveniences I should look for the material at the University of Salamanca in Spain, which also has a copy of the material in custody. It seemed incredible. More than three decades after the trial, it still raised fears and reservations in small officials unable to make a decision and take the risks.   'In 2019, after much walking, I learned, through my friends at the Luisa Hairebedian Foundation that the archival material, the 530 digitised hours, are in the custody of Memoria Abierta NGO. We met with the team, agreed on the guidelines to work together and then, finally, we were ready to start visualising the archive…. The Trial is the first cinematographic work that deals exhaustively with the archive of the Trial of the Juntas, the cornerstone of the process of justice for crimes against humanity in Argentina and it is an invaluable document for Humanity'. - Ulises DE LA ORDEN

In my senior year, I filmed myself and my friends as we went through the college entrance exam under pressure. As a university student, I still grapple with anxiety. Then one day, I got a call from my high school friend saying she was not doing well. I decided to write a letter to her. ‘Throughout our lives, we have been constantly reminded that we would transform into butterflies as we become adults. We were led to believe that adolescence was merely a pupal stage, where all our dreams and hopes would take flight upon metamorphosis. However, my friends and I didn’t quite experience that butterfly-like transformation. Instead, we found ourselves undergoing a different kind of growth, akin to a dragonfly that, unlike the complete metamorphosis of a butterfly, only changes in size as it matures.’ - HONG Daye  

A new kind of normality has taken hold in Wittstock, which the filmmaker has captured for us for the one last time. The big factory is no longer there. As for the three women workers, Elsbeth goes to retraining courses, always on the hunt for a job; Renate has now been working for five years as a chambermaid in a small hotel; Edith, who used to be so rebellious, has moved to Heilbronn for work and become very tranquil.

Old folks waiting for a good coffin, children waiting to leave the island, soldiers anticipating military retirement... Trees waiting for wind, wind seeking rocks, rocks waiting for man’s return, and I’m waiting for the movie to end.   'This is my hometown. When I first picked up the camera to praise you, what I saw was your abandoned face. Only 16 minutes, yet my feelings were so heavy and fearful. That island, the island I want to return to but don't know how... I think this is a movie that (Kinmen) islanders dare not see...' - HUANG Ting-fu

The soldier's written words breathe life into the desolate and shell-covered Tong-Sha Island, transforming it into a vivid landscape. It's a place where many men seem symbolically bound, unvisited yet too precious to forsake.   'Being used to a certain way of looking, listening and understanding, we are often presumptuous about our judgments. As a filmmaker, I made the same mistake at the beginning of the shoot. I didn’t choose the subject; it is the subject that chose me.' - LEE Meng-zhe

Structured around a dancer's routine, the film unfolds in four stages: hope, fear, anger, and longing for stability. It interweaves these emotions with those of locals of Matsu, the military, and first-time-visiting photographers from Taiwan island.   'Perhaps out of a reactionary mood, I told myself not to film historical tragedies or emphasise soldiers and war. Instead, I wondered if there were stories of the people of Matsu. Thus, chasing after the figure of a dancer, I embarked on the exploration of Matsu.' – CHEIN Wei-ssu

The soldier's written words breathe life into the desolate and shell-covered Tong-Sha Island, transforming it into a vivid landscape. It's a place where many men seem symbolically bound, unvisited yet too precious to forsake.   'Being used to a certain way of looking, listening and understanding, we are often presumptuous about our judgments. As a filmmaker, I made the same mistake at the beginning of the shoot. I didn’t choose the subject; it is the subject that chose me.' - LEE Meng-zhe

What do the islands want to convey? We hear nothing but silence. The souls of these islands long for the past, yet forever trapped in this space. The film symbolises their struggles, offering silent contemplation without firm conclusions.   'Originally, this project aimed to speak from a so-called borderland perspective. Now, I'm somewhat concerned that such a viewpoint might be delusional. At least, for the "Northern Three Islands", if we talk about respecting the land, and respecting nature, then we should also learn true abandonment. Perhaps from my perspective... their silence might indeed be the most appropriate voice.’ - SHEN Ko-shang

Old folks waiting for a good coffin, children waiting to leave the island, soldiers anticipating military retirement... Trees waiting for wind, wind seeking rocks, rocks waiting for man’s return, and I’m waiting for the movie to end.   'This is my hometown. When I first picked up the camera to praise you, what I saw was your abandoned face. Only 16 minutes, yet my feelings were so heavy and fearful. That island, the island I want to return to but don't know how... I think this is a movie that (Kinmen) islanders dare not see...' - HUANG Ting-fu

Celsa covers her skin with roots and leaves from her jungle-like garden. She wants to heal. She still feels prison and torture endured 45 years ago in a concentration camp in Paraguay. However, the past echoes; the country is ruled by the son of the former dictator's right-hand man.   'For me, Guapo'y is the confirmation that stories find us. They are voices and tracks that rise up thanks to their protagonists' drive. With her kindness and simplicity, Celsa teaches me the importance of fighting together, and that healing cannot be carried out without encountering oneself first, one's images and memories. Celsa's journey represents the need of the Paraguayan people. The need not to forget and not to allow oblivion to be enacted by current leaders who defend the worst years of a country's history, years of horror and silence. Guapo'y is an urgent tale of an aching body that needs to heal'. - Sofía PAOLI THORNE

In 1970s Bucharest, Zahra and Maria formed a deep friendship during university. As political turmoil brewed in Iran, Zahra was forced to return home, leaving Maria behind. They stayed connected through letters, chronicling their struggles as women in countries moving in divergent directions. Despite the distance and obstacles, their longing for each other remained strong. 'For me, the film is about a recent past, which reverberates very strongly with the immediate, current reality. It is a film that presents a subjective, feminine history of two countries and societies that experimented with different political systems, an Islamic and Communist one, in which people were gradually crushed by the repressive political apparatus. It is a film that resonates with the recent events in Iran, where women are fighting again for their rights, just as they did in 1979. Their cry now, even if not present in the film, expresses what Zahra and Maria also want: "Zan, Zendegi, Azadi!" — "Woman, Life, Freedom!" ' - Vlad PETRI

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The video links the director's past to imagination and creation, exploring themes like domestic violence, intergenerational trauma, and resistance. The film considers hands as memory places that can both accumulate and transfer memories. Through hands and their creations, it imagines unearthing lost memories that have not been included in performative, socially acceptable family albums. 'By highlighting the performative nature of family photographs, I aimed to uncover the hidden imprints of the patriarchal family structure, which served to mask the traumas of domestic violence and mental illness within my own family. I used video-collage and a blend of diverse animation techniques to visually depict the fragmented nature of memory. As the process of remembering inherently involves rewriting, I found that frame-by-frame animation was fitting. Since the memory of touch is at the heart of the narrative, I opted for handmade paper animation, which also hints at the concept of hands as vessels carrying memories across generations. Just like family photos and heirlooms.' - Şirin Bahar DEMIREL

A Syrian filmmaker in Leipzig reconstructs his father's journey, arriving in the GDR as an exchange student in 1956. The son applies for asylum more than 60 years later as a refugee. The civil war in Syria separates their stories, the film brings them back together and continues them. 'I've become haunted by my father's story in the GDR 60 years ago, trying to imagine him here, thinking of the differences in time, circumstances, politics, relations, what is left, and what changed. I kept searching for his places and possible traces, taking photos and notes. His language school, a barbershop, an opera, the university, archives, camera, river…. In my studio, I treat a few old photographs of my father. Cut his young figure, retouch, and paste it in new locations creating new photos. Background film is my attempt to reconstruct and adapt memory, deal with the loss, learn more about my new home, its present and past, claim and rewrite a personal history, and establish a meeting point between two eras, stories, father and son in the cinema space.' - Khaled ABDULWAHED

This film is about haunting memories of Asia's late 20th-century modernisation, beginning with a 1965 United States embargo on the hair trade, known as the 'Communist Hair Ban'.    'Wigs were vital for the rise of the Asian economy in the post-war era. In the heyday of the 1960s, it was the number four export in Hong Kong's export-oriented industrialisation. Between Mao's China—the largest source of hair supplies, and the insatiable Western market, Hong Kong functioned as the gateway. In 1965, the U.S. Treasury Department imposed an embargo on "Asiatic hair" to cut off foreign currency to Communist China in the hair trade. The highly racialized category of "Asiatic hair" was later revised as "communist hair," to enable the wig industry to develop in U.S. allies, including mainly South Korea and Japan, which led to a significant reconfiguration of light industry in East Asia. Departing from the moment of the communist hair ban, through stories of movement, diaspora and migration, this project examines the role of Hong Kong as a transient space that mediates and sanitises the connection between different worlds. The relationship between U.S. Imperialism and East Asia order in the Cold War era.' - WANG Bo  

The documentary explores army cooks' impact on war outcomes, showcasing how feeding thousands shapes victories and defeats. It depicts food prep as strategic, reflecting a world where ideals are fought for around the kitchen table. Through eleven meals spanning from World War II to Chechnya, the film spans nations, illustrating culinary battles from France to Russia.   'If someone was to write it's a pacifist film, it's not true. If someone was to write it's a film that celebrates the army and the military, it's also not true. There are so many different situations and I was curious to see how human beings go about solving them. I would ask them the same questions and always get different answers. Sometimes you have to be a pacifist because you are a member of some dictator's army, but sometimes you have to grab a gun and fight for your homeland.' - Peter KEREKES

The film was shot in two periods. Initially, during Kuo's visit to Ching-wen rebuilding his parents' home, unplanned as a documentary. Later, funding came, but Ching-wen left for Taipei. Kuo returned to Orchid Island, capturing memories of Ching-wen.   'Over these years, moving between Taiwan and Orchid Island, I shared many joyful moments with Ching-wen. I hoped to document his life on the island and even wrote a script for him. Yet, after years of waiting, when I finally received a bit of funding to film, he had to leave Orchid Island.' – KUO Chen-ti

Liuqiu, a tiny island on the outskirt of the Taiwan Strait, which means ‘floating ball’. Surrounded by more floating balls—’hotels-on-the-sea’ where Chinese fishermen stay. The film depict fate, humanity and destiny of these floating balls.   'Originally a joyful overseas holiday, but once the filming began, everyone except the cinematographer felt ill. Spending eight to nine hours on a dirty, oily boat, unable to use the restroom or eat, only continuously smoking and bonding with them. Then, those lacking sleep started vomiting first. Some places seem nearby, just a short ride by boat, but can people really settle there? This is where I began contemplating the fate of the outlying islands.' - LEE Chih-chiang

In 1998, Wuqiu was marked as a Nuclear Waste Disposal site despite protests. Islanders question the choice: ‘Why dump it here? Why not bury gold?’ As a military zone, public access is denied, leaving us defenseless if the government acts further.   'However, today, we still use the sparse population of the outlying islands as an excuse, attempting to further exploit the scarce remaining pristine land. If not for the shadow cast by nuclear waste, the islanders' lives would have been tranquil and content. But the imminent shadow of radiation quickly covered the island and shadowed people's hearts.' – Zero CHOU

This documentary, composed of various video clips and footage, is an exploration to search for some missing jigsaw pieces in history. Something that turned someone into a hero, or an absolute jerk. Some things are hidden under the carpet, from Hiroshima to Teresa Teng to the Space Race, an Olympic and the moon.   'Some things have been tricked. In the commonly known narratives, there are secrets hidden between the lines that no one has ever seen. What's repeated every single day by human beings is killing each other. Although they become sad and miserable for it, they never stop killing each other, not even for a single day. "War is over" is just another propaganda. Killing never stops; it continues and escalates callously.' - Thunska PANSITTIVORAKUL

Over twelve years, Leonard Retel Helmrich chronicles an Indonesian family in Jakarta's slums, revealing societal issues like corruption, religious conflicts, and economic disparity. His revolutionary camera work in this film continues the themes of his previous documentaries, and while connected, each film stands strong on its own, requiring no prior viewing to enjoy.     'I shot Position Among the Stars with the same method as the previous two documentaries, 'Single Shot Cinema,' which I developed myself. Since I follow my main characters very closely, I'm centre stage at every event, so I can shoot the situation from inside out. I have opted for this method since I realise that as an observer, I am part of the event that I am observing. As a human being I don't experience reality as a series of shots, but as one continuing event, so I shoot the situation from that perception.' - Leonard Retel HELMRICH

Arum's parents, part of South Korea's 386 generation, aimed to secure democracy. But Arum's perspective shifts at 18 with the Sewol ferry disaster. Even her father's involvement in its aftermath prompts her to question inherited democracy. Reflecting on events like #MeToo and impeachment, Arum ponders her generation's role in shaping South Korea's political landscape.   'Constrained by my father's public service, I held back from joining protests, inspired yet unable to live up to my mother's feminist ideals. This film mirrors my quest for a political voice, threading the line between critiquing and championing the efforts of previous generations. I aspire for it to spark conversations about forging the democracy of tomorrow.' - NAM Arum

This is a film-concert of the Dakh Daughters musical and theatrical band, a modern political cabaret in which the art becomes a way of understanding the events of the revolution and the war in Ukraine. The film was created with the support of the Ukrainian Cultural Foundation. ‘Living through a pivotal moment in the history of their country, the Maidan Revolution of 2014, art became a way for the Dakh Daughters to reflect upon those events and face the harsh reality of today’s Ukraine with wisdom and hope. This political cabaret draws its magic from combining the joie de vivre and the horror of the devastating war—even if we don’t see it, its shadow is always there, darkened by the bright stage lights.’ - Irena STETSENK

In a Yangon clinic, patients with mental disorders find solace under an artist couple's care. The duo, blending medicine and art, helps patients express their struggles creatively. The husband, a physician, contemplates a film reflecting the clinic's reality but fears consequences. The wife, a psychiatrist, grapples with her own need for healing while treating others.   'This is a country where the civil war has not only been going on for seven decades but continues till today. This is a poor society in which the basic needs of thirty million people are never met. If we apply a broader definition of "psychiatric disorders" to the population, more than half of them have mental or psychological problems. But this film is not about "psychiatric patients" nor "psychiatric clinics." It tries to testify and document the chaotic phase the country is going through. Most people try to make themselves sleep better; having lost their freedom in this crazy and cruel life, they struggle to carry on with the help of the injections that help them sleep.' - Midi Z

In an impoverished outskirt of Yangon where the healthcare needs of the neighbourhood is great, a doctor tries to deal with the patients' problems and also his own.   'This is one of my very first films, I had a coworker, Jeu, who used to do photoshoots at weddings. He followed me around with a camera. And a Yangon Film School student, The Maw Naing, who started learning editing. In 2010, it was illegal to carry a camera on the streets and could land you in trouble with the authorities. We decided to make a film within the clinic and when we went out, we were very careful. We were first thinking of filming only me, the doctor, but it was impossible to film the doctor without the patients. By the time we made that film, there were already two separate military coups in Myanmar. The film was made 10 years after the second military coup. Almost all signs of resistance were crushed, and the people were defeated. With poverty, diseases, and darkness everywhere, people have lost almost all hope. Now, along with another military coup in 2021, this dreadful situation has returned. It is like reliving the memories and the era of hardship. I hope the film will shed light on the situation in Myanmar even after 14 years.' - Aung Min

A 24-year-old medical student, showing signs of schizophrenia, goes untreated due to family denial. Her brother, eight years younger, questions but remains silent. Years later, he records family interactions, revealing his sister's deteriorating condition. Finally, after 25 years, treatment begins. Despite progress, she succumbs to lung cancer in 2021, leaving unanswered questions for her family.   'My sister was smart, good at drawing, and had great potential. I believe that schizophrenia is not a mental illness but a brain illness, and there is no need to be ashamed or hide it. However, I could not understand the actions of my parents, who could be considered experts. I now know what it's like to feel really troubled because you don't have anyone to talk to. I started recording the facts because they disappeared. It's a boring video that looks like a home video, but I made it because I wanted to help prevent the same thing from happening again.' - FUJINO Tomoaki

Gwa To, a transgender expects relationship impermanence, assuming women will prefer "real" men. Ma Soe is disillusioned with marriage from her father's drinking. After a period of courtship, the two live together as a couple. Their bond is tested when Gwa To brings home Phoe Htoo, a two-month-old boy seeking adoption. 'Their story makes me think of my childhood: what it could have been if I was raised by my parents. But more importantly, it gave me a chance to understand the strength of parental love and what it means to be a family. I made this documentary as a tribute to this unconditional love and the bonds that it creates.' - Lamin Oo

Using video diary footage, Parallel World chronicles the 12-year journey of Elodie, a French-Taiwanese girl with Asperger syndrome. Through Elodie's drawings and clay works, the audience can take a glimpse of her whimsical world. The film, a mother's love letter to her daughter, follows them on a journey of self-seeking and self-recognition.   'I became a mother when Elodie was born, and this new identity prompted me to contemplate culture, identity, and national boundaries. The film Somewhere Over the Cloud is a result of the contemplations. As Elodie continued to grow, I found myself examining how an individual connects with the outside world once again.   'Elodie was diagnosed with Asperger's Syndrome. She has dysgraphia but possesses a talent for drawing. As a mother, I want to equip my child with the skill sets required for her to survive in society, yet at the same time, I wonder what makes us human; wonder if I can truly understand my child's inner needs. I observe how creativity is gradually undermined when individuals are pressured by society to conform to a standard mold. But what is a normal person anyway? Isn't normality just an averaged-out result of a lot of random people?   'At the age of fifteen Elodie went to her father's country to begin a new phase of her life. I became a "Zoom Mom": The videos recorded during the past ten years have been a source of reflection on our lives. For more than 10 years, I had to freeze my emotions to continue walking the tightrope as a special child's mother and translating all these complex feelings into a documentary proved to be my outlet.   'All special children are gifts from God. These words, pictures, and videos are my self-therapy and what I would like to share with the world. Let them become the most profound love and blessing for my child.' - HSIAO Mei-ling  

Obstetricians Hla and Nyo Nyo, a Buddhist and a Muslim, brave persecution in Myanmar to provide medical care for Rohingya women. Despite the civil war and risks, Nyo Nyo establishes a clinic, showcasing resilience in the face of political turmoil. The Sundance-prize-winning documentary captures their unwavering commitment amid a backdrop of violence and instability.   'I was born in Rakhine State, in the western part of Myanmar. When I was a kid, it seemed as though Buddhists and Muslims were able to live peacefully side by side. As an adult, I was living and working as a filmmaker in Yangon. In 2012, news of the Rohingya conflict started to come out. I refused to believe in the hate speech in the media at that time, so I went back to my hometown to better understand myself, my people, where all this anger and hatred was coming from. As a female filmmaker, I first thought of searching for a story about women in the conflict zone. Many people were saying that the Rohingya population was growing because of a lack of access to birth control. This heightened my curiosity to find midwives practising in the region. There I met two extraordinary women, a Buddhist midwife Hla and her young Muslim apprentice Nyo Nyo. This film is dedicated to women living in a conflict zone. It’s about compassion, courage, and sisterhood.' - Snow Hnin Ei Hlaing

Chen Da, born in 1905, learned traditional Taitung-style songs as a boy. Working as a cowherd and fisherman, he travelled from Hengchun to Taitung. He began his career as a wandering minstrel at 20. Homage to Chen Da portrays his life and singing in various settings, including his hometown and the well-known musical venue in Taipei, Scarecrow Restaurant.

The film captures the 1979 ritual of Burning the Wang Ye Boat in Sucuo Village, Tainan County. Wang Ye, believed to ward off diseases and evil spirits, is celebrated through building, parading, and burning a wooden boat. Without interviews or dialogue, the visual narrative invokes spirituality and imagination through depictions of people, fire, and the god.   'This film is not a documentation of folk traditions, but a reconstruction of how the villagers enact their pilgrimage and interact with their gods of spirits. The religious rituals in Taiwan are always noisy and seemingly chaotic, yet with a strong force of life. To make the meaning of the ritual easier to grasp, the film tries to reveal passion and paranoia of the pilgrims and turn it into a spectacle of joy and pathos. This is the only thing I expect to achieve in the film.' - CHANG Chao-tang

A filmmaker decides to recover the transhumance path that the shepherds in his town used to take to get to the mountains, but he cannot find anyone still alive to tell him the exact route. His idea is also to film it with his family's old super-8 camera but he discovers that, after 41 years of disuse, it no longer picks up sound. The forgotten path and the mute camera will become, along with a donkey called Paolo, the protagonists of a journey full of memories, question marks and silence. '...perhaps we are filmmakers of memory. We work with highly fragile material. And I say it without nostalgia. I see more and more of the future in the past. Sometimes I used to say it as a joke, but it has turned out to be true: my first film was about a house. The next one I did was about a tree and this last one has a path as its main character. The path that connects the house with the tree. And that's all my memory. Gaston Bachelard said that the first images, the ones we all remember at the end of our lives, are those three: a house, a tree and a path. And it's funny that this film plays with forgetfulness: sometimes we see an image without sound, and then we hear a sound without an image... the senses are deactivated, as they are in our memories. Often what we remember is a voice but not its face, and then we see a landscape clearly but not its music... that's how the film progresses, like a path into the fog. And as always, when one sense disappears, another develops. I think this film is made for the sense of touch, which is why the hand that films appears so often, feeling for texture, touching memory.' - Oskar ALEGRIA

Mrs. O. is suffering from dementia. Her story is told through a combination of documentary footage and her video journals. She uses a digital camera to document daily activities, memories, thoughts, and event commentaries. Through an individual story of gradual memory loss, Alda reflects the attitude of the post-communist society towards its recent history. 'I found Mrs. Oldriska by random search on the internet when I was searching for information about different malfunctions of memory. She had a blog, where she published short diary notes and simple poems. According to her profile, she suffered from Alzheimer's type of dementia. I found it interesting how she reflects on her past through the experience with the disease, what remains in the memory and what just fades and how different memories deform or reform the past, not just in some individual life, but also in so-called collective memory of a society, or country. I wrote the script of the film Alda based on our discussions and her diaries, and I used her expressions, her way of talking and reflecting reality. It is her voice-over in the film. A lot of ideas emerged spontaneously or as a result of improvisation during the recording. The lady in the picture is an actress, because for Mrs. Oldriska the shooting would be extremely exhausting, and she was OK with this kind of solution. While I was writing the script for Alda, I lent a small digital camera to Mrs. Oldriska and asked her to record for me some situations from her everyday life. I thought it might help me with the writing, and that maybe I could use some of it in the film. But when I saw the footage, it was a separate movie by Mrs. Oldriska herself. I ended up editing the material to 75 minutes and named the film Olda. With no previous experience in filmmaking, she uses the camera in a very spontaneous way, sometimes fighting with the technical limits of the device, sometimes even forgetting about the shooting itself. The result is a diary-style film dealing with aging, pain, and solitude in a raw, non-aestheticized manner. These two films are in a way complementary and they refer to different ways of approaching reality in documentary filming—an author's point of view versus the pure record of what appears to be so-called "authentic reality.' - Viera ČÁKANYOVÁ

Ms. Oldřiška, diagnosed with Alzheimer's, lives with her dog in an apartment in Brno in the Czech Republic. Using a basic camera, she captures daily challenges, visits from her friend and son, and her apartment's reconstruction. The film explores ageing, pain, solitude, and the love for both people and animals. 'I found Mrs. Oldriska by random search on the internet when I was searching for information about different malfunctions of memory. She had a blog, where she published short diary notes and simple poems. According to her profile, she suffered from Alzheimer's type of dementia. I found it interesting how she reflects on her past through the experience with the disease, what remains in the memory and what just fades and how can different memories deform or reform the past, not just in some individual life, but also in so-called collective memory of a society, or country. I wrote the script of the film Alda based on our discussions and her diaries, and I used her expressions, her way of talking and reflecting reality. It is her voice-over in the film. A lot of ideas emerged spontaneously or as a result of improvisation during the recording. The lady in the picture is an actress, because for Mrs. Oldriska the shooting would be extremely exhausting, and she was OK with this kind of solution. While I was writing the script for Alda, I lent a small digital camera to Mrs. Oldriska and asked her to record for me some situations from her everyday life. I thought it might help me with the writing, and that maybe I could use some of it in the film. But when I saw the footage, it was a separate movie by Mrs. Oldriska herself. I ended up editing the material to 75 minutes and named the film Olda. With no previous experience in filmmaking, she uses the camera in a very spontaneous way, sometimes fighting with the technical limits of the device, sometimes even forgetting about the shooting itself. The result is a diary-style film dealing with aging, pain, and solitude in a raw, non-aestheticized manner. These two films are in a way complementary and they refer to different ways of approaching reality in documentary filming—an author's point of view versus the pure record of what appears to be so-called “authentic reality.' - Viera ČÁKANYOVÁ

When fishing at sea, he always glimpses Guishan Island. Childhood memories and the villagers' distinct qualities were buried there during the village’s relocation. 'Now, we hide our homesickness in dreams'. Witnessing the island's tourism deeply affects displaced islanders.   'I originally thought my relationship with Guishan Island was close... but it was wishful thinking, my own imagination. Should I stand in their shoes or mine? What exactly defines my standpoint? I'm quite uncertain. Is this film meant to speak for them or to make everyone want to visit the place? Eventually, I realised everything was filmed for my nostalgia.' - LEE Yung-chuan

When a boat sets off, passengers may anticipate their destination's appearance. Some believe imagination can transport them, while others need firsthand experience. The story of Keelung Islet documents both a process and a state of consciousness.   'Emotions change faster than the body, so nothing can be permanently recorded. Sometimes I think, if only I could simplify myself, would things be better? But I refuse to give up. When everything is filled with trash, why do you still demand excellence? The place where the island is located is a transient world, so perfection and imperfection always coexist…' – Jimmy WU

The film was shot in two periods. Initially, during Kuo's visit to Ching-wen rebuilding his parents' home, unplanned as a documentary. Later, funding came, but Ching-wen left for Taipei. Kuo returned to Orchid Island, capturing memories of Ching-wen.   'Over these years, moving between Taiwan and Orchid Island, I shared many joyful moments with Ching-wen. I hoped to document his life on the island and even wrote a script for him. Yet, after years of waiting, when I finally received a bit of funding to film, he had to leave Orchid Island.' – KUO Chen-ti

West Island lies south of Penghu, under a square kilometre in size. At its peak, around 200 people lived here, but by 1999, only few remained. It's uncertain if their departure was coincidental. Both the island and its inhabitants have faded into obscurity.   'You just need to stand at the highest point on the island. In the morning, you can watch the sunrise, and in the afternoon, you can watch the sunset there. Standing at one spot, you can see the entire island in 360 degrees. It feels like the area where you can land is very small, but your vision is incredibly vast.' - CHU Hsien-che

Old folks waiting for a good coffin, children waiting to leave the island, soldiers anticipating military retirement... Trees waiting for wind, wind seeking rocks, rocks waiting for man’s return, and I’m waiting for the movie to end.   'This is my hometown. When I first picked up the camera to praise you, what I saw was your abandoned face. Only 16 minutes, yet my feelings were so heavy and fearful. That island, the island I want to return to but don't know how... I think this is a movie that (Kinmen) islanders dare not see...' - HUANG Ting-fu

In 1998, Wuqiu was marked as a Nuclear Waste Disposal site despite protests. Islanders question the choice: ‘Why dump it here? Why not bury gold?’ As a military zone, public access is denied, leaving us defenseless if the government acts further.   'However, today, we still use the sparse population of the outlying islands as an excuse, attempting to further exploit the scarce remaining pristine land. If not for the shadow cast by nuclear waste, the islanders' lives would have been tranquil and content. But the imminent shadow of radiation quickly covered the island and shadowed people's hearts.' – Zero CHOU

In my senior year, I filmed myself and my friends as we went through the college entrance exam under pressure. As a university student, I still grapple with anxiety. Then one day, I got a call from my high school friend saying she was not doing well. I decided to write a letter to her. ‘Throughout our lives, we have been constantly reminded that we would transform into butterflies as we become adults. We were led to believe that adolescence was merely a pupal stage, where all our dreams and hopes would take flight upon metamorphosis. However, my friends and I didn’t quite experience that butterfly-like transformation. Instead, we found ourselves undergoing a different kind of growth, akin to a dragonfly that, unlike the complete metamorphosis of a butterfly, only changes in size as it matures.’ - HONG Daye  

Structured around a dancer's routine, the film unfolds in four stages: hope, fear, anger, and longing for stability. It interweaves these emotions with those of locals of Matsu, the military, and first-time-visiting photographers from Taiwan island.   'Perhaps out of a reactionary mood, I told myself not to film historical tragedies or emphasise soldiers and war. Instead, I wondered if there were stories of the people of Matsu. Thus, chasing after the figure of a dancer, I embarked on the exploration of Matsu.' – CHEIN Wei-ssu

Mentioning Diao-yu-tai evokes an immediate patriotic response in Taiwan due to the territorial dispute between China and Japan, sparked by a 1968 oil field survey in the East China Sea.   'I wouldn't say I'm shooting the Diao-yu-tai; it's more like the Diao-yu-tai is capturing me, or perhaps it is reflecting me. I never thought the Diao-yu-tai was important to me, and even now, after researching so much about the island, the more I understand it, the less I want to engage with it. I just wish it could peacefully lie there.' - Singing CHEN

In 1998, Wuqiu was marked as a Nuclear Waste Disposal site despite protests. Islanders question the choice: ‘Why dump it here? Why not bury gold?’ As a military zone, public access is denied, leaving us defenseless if the government acts further.   'However, today, we still use the sparse population of the outlying islands as an excuse, attempting to further exploit the scarce remaining pristine land. If not for the shadow cast by nuclear waste, the islanders' lives would have been tranquil and content. But the imminent shadow of radiation quickly covered the island and shadowed people's hearts.' – Zero CHOU

Liuqiu, a tiny island on the outskirt of the Taiwan Strait, which means ‘floating ball’. Surrounded by more floating balls—’hotels-on-the-sea’ where Chinese fishermen stay. The film depict fate, humanity and destiny of these floating balls.   'Originally a joyful overseas holiday, but once the filming began, everyone except the cinematographer felt ill. Spending eight to nine hours on a dirty, oily boat, unable to use the restroom or eat, only continuously smoking and bonding with them. Then, those lacking sleep started vomiting first. Some places seem nearby, just a short ride by boat, but can people really settle there? This is where I began contemplating the fate of the outlying islands.' - LEE Chih-chiang

The soldier's written words breathe life into the desolate and shell-covered Tong-Sha Island, transforming it into a vivid landscape. It's a place where many men seem symbolically bound, unvisited yet too precious to forsake.   'Being used to a certain way of looking, listening and understanding, we are often presumptuous about our judgments. As a filmmaker, I made the same mistake at the beginning of the shoot. I didn’t choose the subject; it is the subject that chose me.' - LEE Meng-zhe

What do the islands want to convey? We hear nothing but silence. The souls of these islands long for the past, yet forever trapped in this space. The film symbolises their struggles, offering silent contemplation without firm conclusions.   'Originally, this project aimed to speak from a so-called borderland perspective. Now, I'm somewhat concerned that such a viewpoint might be delusional. At least, for the "Northern Three Islands", if we talk about respecting the land, and respecting nature, then we should also learn true abandonment. Perhaps from my perspective... their silence might indeed be the most appropriate voice.’ - SHEN Ko-shang

With 20 years of shrimp farming expertise in Taiwan, Du ventured to Myanmar, unaware of the challenges ahead—white powders and guns. Sue, a Burmese-Chinese woman with shrimp farming dreams, married Jojo and took over her father's farm. United by ambition, Du and Sue aimed to create a 'Diamond Marine World'. 'Taiwan is close to Mainland Southeast Asia. A lot of Southeastern Asian labourers come to work in Taiwan. Taiwanese people often look at economically disadvantaged Southeast Asian countries through estranged, discriminatory glasses. I traveled along the Mekong River through Thailand, Laos, Cambodia, and Vietnam for three months in 2015. During that time, I met many Taiwanese people working away from home and became curious about their work and lives in Southeast Asia. 'In Diamond Marine World, the chef from Taiwan, "Du," with his Burmese employees, "Sue," and "Jojo," work together for an opportunity to become rich. Each of them made their sacrifices and choices in the quest for success. They have also lost their trust due to inner demons and conflicts. What is the definition of success in different cultures and systems of values? To become wealthy or to live in the present? In this film, I think the audience can eventually catch sight of humanity and understand this estranged country, Myanmar.' - HUANG Hsiu-yi

影片介於虛構與真實之間，一場夢在我內心激發出一連串的影像，三個人超越時空地相互呼應，個人的、歷史的記憶開始交錯不清。透過導演自身旅居國外的鄉愁、祖母對日據時代礦工祖父的回憶、與一位中法混血的張先生追憶父親的口述，這些回憶與傷感構成了幻境，帶領我們穿越記憶與歷史，開始在離散與放逐中試著追尋平凡百姓的內心的感情和記憶。

Over twelve years, Leonard Retel Helmrich chronicles an Indonesian family in Jakarta's slums, revealing societal issues like corruption, religious conflicts, and economic disparity. His revolutionary camera work in this film continues the themes of his previous documentaries, and while connected, each film stands strong on its own, requiring no prior viewing to enjoy.     'I shot Position Among the Stars with the same method as the previous two documentaries, 'Single Shot Cinema,' which I developed myself. Since I follow my main characters very closely, I'm centre stage at every event, so I can shoot the situation from inside out. I have opted for this method since I realise that as an observer, I am part of the event that I am observing. As a human being I don't experience reality as a series of shots, but as one continuing event, so I shoot the situation from that perception.' - Leonard Retel HELMRICH

A series of emails that the filmmaker wrote to her late mentor, the renowned American documentary filmmaker Robert KRAMER, are woven throughout the plot of a story as the boundaries of life, distance, language, identity and nationality are re-examined from the perspective of Elodie, her daughter.

Using video diary footage, Parallel World chronicles the 12-year journey of Elodie, a French-Taiwanese girl with Asperger syndrome. Through Elodie's drawings and clay works, the audience can take a glimpse of her whimsical world. The film, a mother's love letter to her daughter, follows them on a journey of self-seeking and self-recognition.   'I became a mother when Elodie was born, and this new identity prompted me to contemplate culture, identity, and national boundaries. The film Somewhere Over the Cloud is a result of the contemplations. As Elodie continued to grow, I found myself examining how an individual connects with the outside world once again.   'Elodie was diagnosed with Asperger's Syndrome. She has dysgraphia but possesses a talent for drawing. As a mother, I want to equip my child with the skill sets required for her to survive in society, yet at the same time, I wonder what makes us human; wonder if I can truly understand my child's inner needs. I observe how creativity is gradually undermined when individuals are pressured by society to conform to a standard mold. But what is a normal person anyway? Isn't normality just an averaged-out result of a lot of random people?   'At the age of fifteen Elodie went to her father's country to begin a new phase of her life. I became a "Zoom Mom": The videos recorded during the past ten years have been a source of reflection on our lives. For more than 10 years, I had to freeze my emotions to continue walking the tightrope as a special child's mother and translating all these complex feelings into a documentary proved to be my outlet.   'All special children are gifts from God. These words, pictures, and videos are my self-therapy and what I would like to share with the world. Let them become the most profound love and blessing for my child.' - HSIAO Mei-ling  

A series of emails that the filmmaker wrote to her late mentor, the renowned American documentary filmmaker Robert KRAMER, are woven throughout the plot of a story as the boundaries of life, distance, language, identity and nationality are re-examined from the perspective of Elodie, her daughter.

Using video diary footage, Parallel World chronicles the 12-year journey of Elodie, a French-Taiwanese girl with Asperger syndrome. Through Elodie's drawings and clay works, the audience can take a glimpse of her whimsical world. The film, a mother's love letter to her daughter, follows them on a journey of self-seeking and self-recognition.   'I became a mother when Elodie was born, and this new identity prompted me to contemplate culture, identity, and national boundaries. The film Somewhere Over the Cloud is a result of the contemplations. As Elodie continued to grow, I found myself examining how an individual connects with the outside world once again.   'Elodie was diagnosed with Asperger's Syndrome. She has dysgraphia but possesses a talent for drawing. As a mother, I want to equip my child with the skill sets required for her to survive in society, yet at the same time, I wonder what makes us human; wonder if I can truly understand my child's inner needs. I observe how creativity is gradually undermined when individuals are pressured by society to conform to a standard mold. But what is a normal person anyway? Isn't normality just an averaged-out result of a lot of random people?   'At the age of fifteen Elodie went to her father's country to begin a new phase of her life. I became a "Zoom Mom": The videos recorded during the past ten years have been a source of reflection on our lives. For more than 10 years, I had to freeze my emotions to continue walking the tightrope as a special child's mother and translating all these complex feelings into a documentary proved to be my outlet.   'All special children are gifts from God. These words, pictures, and videos are my self-therapy and what I would like to share with the world. Let them become the most profound love and blessing for my child.' - HSIAO Mei-ling  

影片介於虛構與真實之間，一場夢在我內心激發出一連串的影像，三個人超越時空地相互呼應，個人的、歷史的記憶開始交錯不清。透過導演自身旅居國外的鄉愁、祖母對日據時代礦工祖父的回憶、與一位中法混血的張先生追憶父親的口述，這些回憶與傷感構成了幻境，帶領我們穿越記憶與歷史，開始在離散與放逐中試著追尋平凡百姓的內心的感情和記憶。

對影像的出現和消失的思考。 作者自我的影像隨著創作材料的準備（磨墨），從漸漸浮現到攪亂至凝結，當毛筆吸收墨汁，作者的影像被毛筆所吞噬，作者的靈魂轉換成創作材料，成為一種符碼，作為創作行為和作者之間的一種辯証。

殘缺的生命如同拼圖中誨澀黯淡的色塊，遺漏任何一塊，就不是完滿的拼圖。40年來，台中的郭瑞琳醫師創辦靈光醫院和莊宏達醫師開闢瑪利亞身障者的園地，接力呵護著受傷的孩童。因為他們，城市的灰暗映襯出炫麗，殘缺啟發了慈愛。

In Shan State, Myanmar, ancient culture clashes with six decades of civil war. Once a renowned folk singer, Nan Mya Han now channels loss through metaphorical verses. A documentary intertwines her songs with scenes of rituals, delving into decay and impermanence amid political turmoil. It's a poignant, mesmerising exploration of a people's resilience amidst upheaval.   'In our country, people believe that if someone had experienced scary and frightening events, the guardian souls from the body would run away and that person would never have a dream anymore. In order to become cured of that, the soul has to be summoned back.   'Song of Souls is not only the voice of a mother who is moaning and bewailing for her vanishing children but also the sound of calling my own souls as a filmmaker.' - Sai Naw Kham

Mentioning Diao-yu-tai evokes an immediate patriotic response in Taiwan due to the territorial dispute between China and Japan, sparked by a 1968 oil field survey in the East China Sea.   'I wouldn't say I'm shooting the Diao-yu-tai; it's more like the Diao-yu-tai is capturing me, or perhaps it is reflecting me. I never thought the Diao-yu-tai was important to me, and even now, after researching so much about the island, the more I understand it, the less I want to engage with it. I just wish it could peacefully lie there.' - Singing CHEN

Lesya, imprisoned for a crime of passion, faces seven years in an Odessa women's correctional facility. With her newborn, she enters a world filled solely with women—inmates, nurses, and wardens. Uniforms blur identities in this world of wives, widows, daughters, sisters, pregnant women, and children, making it hard to tell who is who.   'I also wanted the film to deliver an authentic collective testimony of the convicted mothers, not only through their conversations with Iryna but also through the silent scenes—the loneliness they feel when their children are taken away and they despairingly finish their birthday cake; the flashes of happiness when the women briefly forget they're in prison. Visually, these scenes are treated almost like a photograph—a memory of a moment independent of space and time. I believe that what defined the women's relationship towards me was curiosity. I did not ask them to do anything; I did not order them around. I simply observed and listened to them, and what they were willing to share with me, I translated into this film.' - Peter KEREKES

In an impoverished outskirt of Yangon where the healthcare needs of the neighbourhood is great, a doctor tries to deal with the patients' problems and also his own.   'This is one of my very first films, I had a coworker, Jeu, who used to do photoshoots at weddings. He followed me around with a camera. And a Yangon Film School student, The Maw Naing, who started learning editing. In 2010, it was illegal to carry a camera on the streets and could land you in trouble with the authorities. We decided to make a film within the clinic and when we went out, we were very careful. We were first thinking of filming only me, the doctor, but it was impossible to film the doctor without the patients. By the time we made that film, there were already two separate military coups in Myanmar. The film was made 10 years after the second military coup. Almost all signs of resistance were crushed, and the people were defeated. With poverty, diseases, and darkness everywhere, people have lost almost all hope. Now, along with another military coup in 2021, this dreadful situation has returned. It is like reliving the memories and the era of hardship. I hope the film will shed light on the situation in Myanmar even after 14 years.' - Aung Min

In a 250-square-kilometre online community, individuals simulate survival scenarios through avatars. A film crew enters, forming connections with participants who gradually reveal their true selves. Blending virtual experiences with real-life stories, the documentary explores the implications of virtualisation and the evolving nature of human interaction in a digital world.   'We started our research during our studies at the Beaux-Arts. Our first intention was really just to experiment. We did not intend to make a documentary or a film in any way, but mostly just wanted to observe. The idea was to connect to a game and to go and see what was going on there, by observing, without playing. We weren't really aware of what was going on in these online games at the time. At some point we came across a player who wasn't using any of the game's tools and was just hanging out. When we saw that this was possible, to stop in a game, to simply take in the landscape and look around, to sit down with people in a virtual world, to just pause, to talk about other things, to not play in fact, we realised that it was perhaps possible to make a documentary here. That's how it started I think.' - Guilhem CAUSSE

Arum's parents, part of South Korea's 386 generation, aimed to secure democracy. But Arum's perspective shifts at 18 with the Sewol ferry disaster. Even her father's involvement in its aftermath prompts her to question inherited democracy. Reflecting on events like #MeToo and impeachment, Arum ponders her generation's role in shaping South Korea's political landscape.   'Constrained by my father's public service, I held back from joining protests, inspired yet unable to live up to my mother's feminist ideals. This film mirrors my quest for a political voice, threading the line between critiquing and championing the efforts of previous generations. I aspire for it to spark conversations about forging the democracy of tomorrow.' - NAM Arum

Farah, born during the Islamic revolution in Iran in 1979, captures moments of joy and defiance in her daily life and is forced to migrate to her private planet to be free. She buys other people's memories in super 8mm films and records and archives her own, to create an alternative history of Iran.   'When we share a memory with others, it moves from private to public. This story is woven tightly with a resistance to forgetting. At a time when power structures strive to narrate history in ways that hide important and popular segments, it becomes all the more crucial to share personal details and micro-narratives.' - Farahnaz SHARIFI

After a military coup in Myanmar on February 1, 2021, a Burmese teenager, initially depressed, decides to join a friend's media group for revolution, reigniting hope and steering his own path.   'Before the coup, I was just a filmmaker who loved making and watching films and at that time I was trying to make my first feature film. And then a coup happened, the film industry couldn't run anymore. All Burmese people's hopes and dreams were ruined.   At that time, I was thinking if I can't make my first feature film, I will try to do my first documentary about the coup. So I started recording myself for a long time and Journey of a Bird was born. The documentary is about the struggle of the young generation of Myanmar but I don't want to make heavy drama stuff. Just in a natural way. Of course, the world already knows how cruel the policies and soldiers of Myanmar are, but they also need to know about how military coups make a lot of chaos in our generation.'

In Yangon, dreams end with a military takeover in February 2021. Amid darkness, a film emerges, capturing the struggle through written words, recorded voices, and images—a portrayal of losing ground.   'I grew up in Yangon. In February 2021, my dreams came to an end. My mother said: 'Son, wake up. The military has taken over the country.' The days got darker. The window in my narrow room and the piece of sky I watched seemed to be the only freedom left. I wanted to say something about this new undercurrent in my life.' - LG Anonymous LG Team

A couple escape to the jungles after the protest against the 2021 Myanmar military coup. Amidst the chaos and uncertainty, they find comfort in a newly adopted cat named ‘Poopy’.

The People's Defense Force attempts to retrieve a comrade's body from a battle during Myanmar's Spring Revolution. Two members lose legs, leading to a heart-wrenching funeral with an empty coffin.

 Adolescents abandon their daily routines and don uniforms in an effort to oppose the terrorist administration. Green is a hue of liberation.

Obstetricians Hla and Nyo Nyo, a Buddhist and a Muslim, brave persecution in Myanmar to provide medical care for Rohingya women. Despite the civil war and risks, Nyo Nyo establishes a clinic, showcasing resilience in the face of political turmoil. The Sundance-prize-winning documentary captures their unwavering commitment amid a backdrop of violence and instability.   'I was born in Rakhine State, in the western part of Myanmar. When I was a kid, it seemed as though Buddhists and Muslims were able to live peacefully side by side. As an adult, I was living and working as a filmmaker in Yangon. In 2012, news of the Rohingya conflict started to come out. I refused to believe in the hate speech in the media at that time, so I went back to my hometown to better understand myself, my people, where all this anger and hatred was coming from. As a female filmmaker, I first thought of searching for a story about women in the conflict zone. Many people were saying that the Rohingya population was growing because of a lack of access to birth control. This heightened my curiosity to find midwives practising in the region. There I met two extraordinary women, a Buddhist midwife Hla and her young Muslim apprentice Nyo Nyo. This film is dedicated to women living in a conflict zone. It’s about compassion, courage, and sisterhood.' - Snow Hnin Ei Hlaing

This documentary, composed of various video clips and footage, is an exploration to search for some missing jigsaw pieces in history. Something that turned someone into a hero, or an absolute jerk. Some things are hidden under the carpet, from Hiroshima to Teresa Teng to the Space Race, an Olympic and the moon.   'Some things have been tricked. In the commonly known narratives, there are secrets hidden between the lines that no one has ever seen. What's repeated every single day by human beings is killing each other. Although they become sad and miserable for it, they never stop killing each other, not even for a single day. "War is over" is just another propaganda. Killing never stops; it continues and escalates callously.' - Thunska PANSITTIVORAKUL

Over twelve years, Leonard Retel Helmrich chronicles an Indonesian family in Jakarta's slums, revealing societal issues like corruption, religious conflicts, and economic disparity. His revolutionary camera work in this film continues the themes of his previous documentaries, and while connected, each film stands strong on its own, requiring no prior viewing to enjoy.     'I shot Position Among the Stars with the same method as the previous two documentaries, 'Single Shot Cinema,' which I developed myself. Since I follow my main characters very closely, I'm centre stage at every event, so I can shoot the situation from inside out. I have opted for this method since I realise that as an observer, I am part of the event that I am observing. As a human being I don't experience reality as a series of shots, but as one continuing event, so I shoot the situation from that perception.' - Leonard Retel HELMRICH

With 20 years of shrimp farming expertise in Taiwan, Du ventured to Myanmar, unaware of the challenges ahead—white powders and guns. Sue, a Burmese-Chinese woman with shrimp farming dreams, married Jojo and took over her father's farm. United by ambition, Du and Sue aimed to create a 'Diamond Marine World'. 'Taiwan is close to Mainland Southeast Asia. A lot of Southeastern Asian labourers come to work in Taiwan. Taiwanese people often look at economically disadvantaged Southeast Asian countries through estranged, discriminatory glasses. I traveled along the Mekong River through Thailand, Laos, Cambodia, and Vietnam for three months in 2015. During that time, I met many Taiwanese people working away from home and became curious about their work and lives in Southeast Asia. 'In Diamond Marine World, the chef from Taiwan, "Du," with his Burmese employees, "Sue," and "Jojo," work together for an opportunity to become rich. Each of them made their sacrifices and choices in the quest for success. They have also lost their trust due to inner demons and conflicts. What is the definition of success in different cultures and systems of values? To become wealthy or to live in the present? In this film, I think the audience can eventually catch sight of humanity and understand this estranged country, Myanmar.' - HUANG Hsiu-yi

Mrs. O. is suffering from dementia. Her story is told through a combination of documentary footage and her video journals. She uses a digital camera to document daily activities, memories, thoughts, and event commentaries. Through an individual story of gradual memory loss, Alda reflects the attitude of the post-communist society towards its recent history. 'I found Mrs. Oldriska by random search on the internet when I was searching for information about different malfunctions of memory. She had a blog, where she published short diary notes and simple poems. According to her profile, she suffered from Alzheimer's type of dementia. I found it interesting how she reflects on her past through the experience with the disease, what remains in the memory and what just fades and how different memories deform or reform the past, not just in some individual life, but also in so-called collective memory of a society, or country. I wrote the script of the film Alda based on our discussions and her diaries, and I used her expressions, her way of talking and reflecting reality. It is her voice-over in the film. A lot of ideas emerged spontaneously or as a result of improvisation during the recording. The lady in the picture is an actress, because for Mrs. Oldriska the shooting would be extremely exhausting, and she was OK with this kind of solution. While I was writing the script for Alda, I lent a small digital camera to Mrs. Oldriska and asked her to record for me some situations from her everyday life. I thought it might help me with the writing, and that maybe I could use some of it in the film. But when I saw the footage, it was a separate movie by Mrs. Oldriska herself. I ended up editing the material to 75 minutes and named the film Olda. With no previous experience in filmmaking, she uses the camera in a very spontaneous way, sometimes fighting with the technical limits of the device, sometimes even forgetting about the shooting itself. The result is a diary-style film dealing with aging, pain, and solitude in a raw, non-aestheticized manner. These two films are in a way complementary and they refer to different ways of approaching reality in documentary filming—an author's point of view versus the pure record of what appears to be so-called "authentic reality.' - Viera ČÁKANYOVÁ

Ms. Oldřiška, diagnosed with Alzheimer's, lives with her dog in an apartment in Brno in the Czech Republic. Using a basic camera, she captures daily challenges, visits from her friend and son, and her apartment's reconstruction. The film explores ageing, pain, solitude, and the love for both people and animals. 'I found Mrs. Oldriska by random search on the internet when I was searching for information about different malfunctions of memory. She had a blog, where she published short diary notes and simple poems. According to her profile, she suffered from Alzheimer's type of dementia. I found it interesting how she reflects on her past through the experience with the disease, what remains in the memory and what just fades and how can different memories deform or reform the past, not just in some individual life, but also in so-called collective memory of a society, or country. I wrote the script of the film Alda based on our discussions and her diaries, and I used her expressions, her way of talking and reflecting reality. It is her voice-over in the film. A lot of ideas emerged spontaneously or as a result of improvisation during the recording. The lady in the picture is an actress, because for Mrs. Oldriska the shooting would be extremely exhausting, and she was OK with this kind of solution. While I was writing the script for Alda, I lent a small digital camera to Mrs. Oldriska and asked her to record for me some situations from her everyday life. I thought it might help me with the writing, and that maybe I could use some of it in the film. But when I saw the footage, it was a separate movie by Mrs. Oldriska herself. I ended up editing the material to 75 minutes and named the film Olda. With no previous experience in filmmaking, she uses the camera in a very spontaneous way, sometimes fighting with the technical limits of the device, sometimes even forgetting about the shooting itself. The result is a diary-style film dealing with aging, pain, and solitude in a raw, non-aestheticized manner. These two films are in a way complementary and they refer to different ways of approaching reality in documentary filming—an author's point of view versus the pure record of what appears to be so-called “authentic reality.' - Viera ČÁKANYOVÁ

This film is about haunting memories of Asia's late 20th-century modernisation, beginning with a 1965 United States embargo on the hair trade, known as the 'Communist Hair Ban'.    'Wigs were vital for the rise of the Asian economy in the post-war era. In the heyday of the 1960s, it was the number four export in Hong Kong's export-oriented industrialisation. Between Mao's China—the largest source of hair supplies, and the insatiable Western market, Hong Kong functioned as the gateway. In 1965, the U.S. Treasury Department imposed an embargo on "Asiatic hair" to cut off foreign currency to Communist China in the hair trade. The highly racialized category of "Asiatic hair" was later revised as "communist hair," to enable the wig industry to develop in U.S. allies, including mainly South Korea and Japan, which led to a significant reconfiguration of light industry in East Asia. Departing from the moment of the communist hair ban, through stories of movement, diaspora and migration, this project examines the role of Hong Kong as a transient space that mediates and sanitises the connection between different worlds. The relationship between U.S. Imperialism and East Asia order in the Cold War era.' - WANG Bo  

After a military coup in Myanmar on February 1, 2021, a Burmese teenager, initially depressed, decides to join a friend's media group for revolution, reigniting hope and steering his own path.   'Before the coup, I was just a filmmaker who loved making and watching films and at that time I was trying to make my first feature film. And then a coup happened, the film industry couldn't run anymore. All Burmese people's hopes and dreams were ruined.   At that time, I was thinking if I can't make my first feature film, I will try to do my first documentary about the coup. So I started recording myself for a long time and Journey of a Bird was born. The documentary is about the struggle of the young generation of Myanmar but I don't want to make heavy drama stuff. Just in a natural way. Of course, the world already knows how cruel the policies and soldiers of Myanmar are, but they also need to know about how military coups make a lot of chaos in our generation.'

A couple escape to the jungles after the protest against the 2021 Myanmar military coup. Amidst the chaos and uncertainty, they find comfort in a newly adopted cat named ‘Poopy’.

The People's Defense Force attempts to retrieve a comrade's body from a battle during Myanmar's Spring Revolution. Two members lose legs, leading to a heart-wrenching funeral with an empty coffin.

Celsa covers her skin with roots and leaves from her jungle-like garden. She wants to heal. She still feels prison and torture endured 45 years ago in a concentration camp in Paraguay. However, the past echoes; the country is ruled by the son of the former dictator's right-hand man.   'For me, Guapo'y is the confirmation that stories find us. They are voices and tracks that rise up thanks to their protagonists' drive. With her kindness and simplicity, Celsa teaches me the importance of fighting together, and that healing cannot be carried out without encountering oneself first, one's images and memories. Celsa's journey represents the need of the Paraguayan people. The need not to forget and not to allow oblivion to be enacted by current leaders who defend the worst years of a country's history, years of horror and silence. Guapo'y is an urgent tale of an aching body that needs to heal'. - Sofía PAOLI THORNE

As the latest instalment of the Ten Years franchise, the omnibus film Ten Years Myanmar is a collective effort from five Myanmar filmmakers to speculate on the future of the country that has been torn apart since the coup in 2021.   Production Note: The result is five very different scenarios and visions, some grim and some more hopeful, and all together will inspire the Myanmar and international audience to stay resilient in times of adversity. All five of the filmmakers have continued to live and work in Myanmar, even after many fellow filmmakers have left, and this film also serves as a model for those working in environments where freedom of expression is limited in how to express their thoughts and feelings, some of which may be controversial.

In May 2008, Cyclone Nargis hit Myanmar's Ayeyarwaddy Delta, claiming 140,000 lives. Despite a filming ban, young Burmese filmmakers clandestinely visited devastated villages after the storm, capturing surreal scenes of loss and resilience. Their emotional footage reveals the profound impact of Nargis, depicting a world where life and death intertwine, altering countless lives forever. For security reasons, the filmmakers couldn't reveal their names and they used pseudonyms. But for the first time, they screened the film with their real names at the 2nd Wathann Film Festival in 2012. One of the directors Pe Maung Same said the screening of Nargis for the first time in Myanmar was their apology to those who were in the film. 'I feel ashamed that we couldn't use our real names due to security reasons when people in the movie dared to show their faces in front of the camera. I want to apologise to them. I want them to understand us. Things are open now and we get the chance to apologise by screening the film here,' he said.

When fishing at sea, he always glimpses Guishan Island. Childhood memories and the villagers' distinct qualities were buried there during the village’s relocation. 'Now, we hide our homesickness in dreams'. Witnessing the island's tourism deeply affects displaced islanders.   'I originally thought my relationship with Guishan Island was close... but it was wishful thinking, my own imagination. Should I stand in their shoes or mine? What exactly defines my standpoint? I'm quite uncertain. Is this film meant to speak for them or to make everyone want to visit the place? Eventually, I realised everything was filmed for my nostalgia.' - LEE Yung-chuan

When a boat sets off, passengers may anticipate their destination's appearance. Some believe imagination can transport them, while others need firsthand experience. The story of Keelung Islet documents both a process and a state of consciousness.   'Emotions change faster than the body, so nothing can be permanently recorded. Sometimes I think, if only I could simplify myself, would things be better? But I refuse to give up. When everything is filled with trash, why do you still demand excellence? The place where the island is located is a transient world, so perfection and imperfection always coexist…' – Jimmy WU

The film was shot in two periods. Initially, during Kuo's visit to Ching-wen rebuilding his parents' home, unplanned as a documentary. Later, funding came, but Ching-wen left for Taipei. Kuo returned to Orchid Island, capturing memories of Ching-wen.   'Over these years, moving between Taiwan and Orchid Island, I shared many joyful moments with Ching-wen. I hoped to document his life on the island and even wrote a script for him. Yet, after years of waiting, when I finally received a bit of funding to film, he had to leave Orchid Island.' – KUO Chen-ti

West Island lies south of Penghu, under a square kilometre in size. At its peak, around 200 people lived here, but by 1999, only few remained. It's uncertain if their departure was coincidental. Both the island and its inhabitants have faded into obscurity.   'You just need to stand at the highest point on the island. In the morning, you can watch the sunrise, and in the afternoon, you can watch the sunset there. Standing at one spot, you can see the entire island in 360 degrees. It feels like the area where you can land is very small, but your vision is incredibly vast.' - CHU Hsien-che

Structured around a dancer's routine, the film unfolds in four stages: hope, fear, anger, and longing for stability. It interweaves these emotions with those of locals of Matsu, the military, and first-time-visiting photographers from Taiwan island.   'Perhaps out of a reactionary mood, I told myself not to film historical tragedies or emphasise soldiers and war. Instead, I wondered if there were stories of the people of Matsu. Thus, chasing after the figure of a dancer, I embarked on the exploration of Matsu.' – CHEIN Wei-ssu

Mentioning Diao-yu-tai evokes an immediate patriotic response in Taiwan due to the territorial dispute between China and Japan, sparked by a 1968 oil field survey in the East China Sea.   'I wouldn't say I'm shooting the Diao-yu-tai; it's more like the Diao-yu-tai is capturing me, or perhaps it is reflecting me. I never thought the Diao-yu-tai was important to me, and even now, after researching so much about the island, the more I understand it, the less I want to engage with it. I just wish it could peacefully lie there.' - Singing CHEN

In 1998, Wuqiu was marked as a Nuclear Waste Disposal site despite protests. Islanders question the choice: ‘Why dump it here? Why not bury gold?’ As a military zone, public access is denied, leaving us defenseless if the government acts further.   'However, today, we still use the sparse population of the outlying islands as an excuse, attempting to further exploit the scarce remaining pristine land. If not for the shadow cast by nuclear waste, the islanders' lives would have been tranquil and content. But the imminent shadow of radiation quickly covered the island and shadowed people's hearts.' – Zero CHOU

Liuqiu, a tiny island on the outskirt of the Taiwan Strait, which means ‘floating ball’. Surrounded by more floating balls—’hotels-on-the-sea’ where Chinese fishermen stay. The film depict fate, humanity and destiny of these floating balls.   'Originally a joyful overseas holiday, but once the filming began, everyone except the cinematographer felt ill. Spending eight to nine hours on a dirty, oily boat, unable to use the restroom or eat, only continuously smoking and bonding with them. Then, those lacking sleep started vomiting first. Some places seem nearby, just a short ride by boat, but can people really settle there? This is where I began contemplating the fate of the outlying islands.' - LEE Chih-chiang

Taman-taman (Park): Two Indonesian poets meet at Tainan Park, using daytime experiences to craft poetry. Inspired by encounters and emotions, their creations take shape through night-time chanting, imagination, and action. Taman-taman (Park) unfolds a journey resembling an ancient fable, with untold stories hidden in the endless night. The storytellers become integral parts of the narratives as well.   'If we describe it with landscape painting, no matter how realistic it is, the painter cannot bring the scenery in front of them into the exhibition hall. However, looking at the landscapes that the painter has selected, modified, and embellished, sometimes the soul can be taken to a further place. Or, the painting itself is already an independent scenery, whether as a whole or in detail; it makes people yearn for or fear. Sometimes, when looking at landscape paintings, imagining the painter facing the scenery across this canvas, gradually, it also becomes a part of the scenery.' - SO Yo-hen  

The documentary explores army cooks' impact on war outcomes, showcasing how feeding thousands shapes victories and defeats. It depicts food prep as strategic, reflecting a world where ideals are fought for around the kitchen table. Through eleven meals spanning from World War II to Chechnya, the film spans nations, illustrating culinary battles from France to Russia.   'If someone was to write it's a pacifist film, it's not true. If someone was to write it's a film that celebrates the army and the military, it's also not true. There are so many different situations and I was curious to see how human beings go about solving them. I would ask them the same questions and always get different answers. Sometimes you have to be a pacifist because you are a member of some dictator's army, but sometimes you have to grab a gun and fight for your homeland.' - Peter KEREKES

In 1985 Buenos Aires, the trial of Argentina's last dictatorship unfolds, reminiscent of Nuremberg after WWII. Recorded on U-matic tapes, 90 days reveal testimonies of horror and a final verdict: 'Never Again'. The film delves into defenders, political positions, and victims' voices, narrating tales of torture and pain, encapsulating life and death within a courtroom.   'The 90 days that the trial lasted were entirely recorded by the public television with two cameras on U-matic cassettes. The search for and access to the trial archive, 530 hours of footage, began in 2013. Dreaming about a documentary film that narrates what happened there, and at the same time tells the story of the Argentine horror and its justice process.    'It was not easy to find the material. At the public television channel, which was in charge of the recording, they denied me any kind of collaboration for fear of political reprisals. At the General Archive of the Argentine Nation (AGN), which has the material in custody, they suggested that in order to avoid inconveniences I should look for the material at the University of Salamanca in Spain, which also has a copy of the material in custody. It seemed incredible. More than three decades after the trial, it still raised fears and reservations in small officials unable to make a decision and take the risks.   'In 2019, after much walking, I learned, through my friends at the Luisa Hairebedian Foundation that the archival material, the 530 digitised hours, are in the custody of Memoria Abierta NGO. We met with the team, agreed on the guidelines to work together and then, finally, we were ready to start visualising the archive…. The Trial is the first cinematographic work that deals exhaustively with the archive of the Trial of the Juntas, the cornerstone of the process of justice for crimes against humanity in Argentina and it is an invaluable document for Humanity'. - Ulises DE LA ORDEN

The soldier's written words breathe life into the desolate and shell-covered Tong-Sha Island, transforming it into a vivid landscape. It's a place where many men seem symbolically bound, unvisited yet too precious to forsake.   'Being used to a certain way of looking, listening and understanding, we are often presumptuous about our judgments. As a filmmaker, I made the same mistake at the beginning of the shoot. I didn’t choose the subject; it is the subject that chose me.' - LEE Meng-zhe

What do the islands want to convey? We hear nothing but silence. The souls of these islands long for the past, yet forever trapped in this space. The film symbolises their struggles, offering silent contemplation without firm conclusions.   'Originally, this project aimed to speak from a so-called borderland perspective. Now, I'm somewhat concerned that such a viewpoint might be delusional. At least, for the "Northern Three Islands", if we talk about respecting the land, and respecting nature, then we should also learn true abandonment. Perhaps from my perspective... their silence might indeed be the most appropriate voice.’ - SHEN Ko-shang

Old folks waiting for a good coffin, children waiting to leave the island, soldiers anticipating military retirement... Trees waiting for wind, wind seeking rocks, rocks waiting for man’s return, and I’m waiting for the movie to end.   'This is my hometown. When I first picked up the camera to praise you, what I saw was your abandoned face. Only 16 minutes, yet my feelings were so heavy and fearful. That island, the island I want to return to but don't know how... I think this is a movie that (Kinmen) islanders dare not see...' - HUANG Ting-fu

Gwa To, a transgender expects relationship impermanence, assuming women will prefer "real" men. Ma Soe is disillusioned with marriage from her father's drinking. After a period of courtship, the two live together as a couple. Their bond is tested when Gwa To brings home Phoe Htoo, a two-month-old boy seeking adoption. 'Their story makes me think of my childhood: what it could have been if I was raised by my parents. But more importantly, it gave me a chance to understand the strength of parental love and what it means to be a family. I made this documentary as a tribute to this unconditional love and the bonds that it creates.' - Lamin Oo

HUNG Chun-hsiu spent seven years filming three residents of Kinmen island: an owner of a local photography shop, a retired officer and a Chinese woman from Sichuan province who came to Kinmen with the hope for a better future. Using photographs and archival materials, HUNG explores the personal stories of three residents and how they reflect upon the upheavals between the two sides of the Taiwan Strait.