In 1982, a fire broke out in the Soviet Antarctic research station Vostok and destroyed the station's power plant. The expedition was left without light or heating right before the four-month long polar night set in, with an outside temperature of -70 °C. The men decided not to ask for help, because they knew that it was nowhere to be found.
Apatity, a far-north industrial town in Russia, first came into being as a USSR concentration camp. Although its environment is at the brink of ecological disaster, the people here still believe in the state’s promise of immortality that can be gained through sacrificial service to the fatherland. This is how the elite in a totalitarian state buy a person’s will, strength, talent and, indeed, life, turning the human being into another resource that is as faceless as a grey lump of ore. ‘I cannot fight big corporations or state structures with a film. But I hope that there is someone in the darkness of the cinema whose heart will get a bit warmer after seeing it,’ says the director. The larger part of the film was shot during the polar night.
An observational documentary by Maria Aua is about the reconstruction of the former textile factory into the Academy of Arts. The process of transformation is the result of the selfless and hard physical work of the builders.
A black and gloomy comedically stylized film about a young ice cream seller, Roob, who, almost by chance and thanks to his 'multibusinessman' boss, happens to land the leading role in an underground porno film. Though the youngsters in the lead roles of the porno film realize that they have crossed the line that most of their fellow citizens might denounce as indecent, their helpless actions are somewhat pardoned by their curiosity and inexperience. The same cannot be said for the film crew, who are pragmatic and down-trodden and for whom there is no difference whether they are selling potatoes at the market or making a porno - as long as the money keeps rolling in.
The Lithuanian scientist Ausra Revutaite has spent 30 years in the Tian Shan mountain range in Central Asia, straddling the borders between Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan and the autonomous Chinese region of Xinjiang. Some 3,500 meters above sea level with only her faithful dog and gray cat for company, she studies climate change on the Tuyuksu Glacier at an old Soviet-era research station. She loves the solitude and silence that her painstaking work brings her. Magnificent shots of her surroundings and everyday work are interspersed with archive footage of the people who preceded her by a century. Not much seems to have changed.
At the beginning of the 1960s, when the French pioneers of cinéma vérité set out to achieve a new realism, and when direct cinema in Québec began to vie for notice, the Baltics wit-nessed the birth of a generation of documentarists who favored a more romantic view of the world around them. This meditative documentary essay – from a Latvian writer and Lithuanian director whose composed touch has long dovetailed with the stylistically diverse works of the Baltic New Wave – pushes adroitly past the limits of the common his-toriographic investigation to create a portrait of less-clearly remembered filmmakers. The result is a consummate poetic treatment of the ontology of documentary creation. Also a cinematic poem about cinema poets.
A poetic and atypical nature film about the various inhabitants of an old-growth forest, on the ground, in the air and in the water. There's no commentary, only the rich, almost palpable sounds of the forest and the magical situations captured by the camera. Although we might sometimes be puzzled as to what's actually happening a mating ritual or the start of a fight? the lack of explanation leaves space for us to associate freely and simply experience the images. The film offers a close-up view of a wide range of creatures such as the insect that appears out of the melting snow, gradually begins to move and impatiently waits until all its legs are free so it can fly away. The scale of the portraits is sometimes grand and at other times modest, but always filmed with precision, whether in daylight or at night. Time doesn't seem to matter in this extraordinary piece of slow cinema.
A karakat is an unsinkable vehicle that every self-respecting resident of the Peipus shore assembles with his own hands. Originally intended to drive the owner to a fishing spot in the winter, today the karakat has become a unique “ice-taxi.” By observing several karakat-men’s routines, we aim to portray a fascinating culture of old-believers, self assembled hybrid vehicles and ice fishing in this part of Estonia.
A dreamlike passage through the architecture of shapes created from light and shadow. This film is a cinematographic attempt to find an invisible city that exists in parallel to Tartu.
Vello moved to a secluded swamp island 30 years ago. He left his career and city life to live in harmony with mother nature. Vello makes a living from beekeeping and hunting, his life flows in the same rhythm as the nature around him.
A poetic documentary about life in a war-torn Chechen village, with the cemetery as its symbolic focal point. The village lives and breathes in unison. The Chechen gravediggers are always busy. Death is an everyday visitor. It does not even matter that yet another war has ended. The people live stuck in a circle of vengeance. They also gather into circles to chant prayers to God. Only the cows are grazing calmly next to the cemetery and the children are happily going about their business. The Chechens' parting words to one another are, "May you come back free!"
A reindeer herdsman’s life is as gently monotonous as the tundra itself. It flows in synchrony with the life of the reindeer herd from one migration to the next. The time between these two points belongs entirely to the herdsman. It’s áigi - the herdsman’s time.
